He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I’ve told you—I really am from Nashville.”
“That was convenient for us all.”
He couldn’t quite tell what the tone of her voice meant so he didn’t respond. It was already growing late so he drove straight to the restaurant. F. Scott’s was a casual place where some dressed up and some dressed down and the music and food were good. Their table was in a corner by the wall; when they were seated, it seemed intimate. He couldn’t help marveling again that she could look like her cousin—and be so beautiful.
“Why are you staring at me?”
He grinned. “Honestly? I was finding it incredible that you could look so much like Malachi—but be so attractive.”
“Malachi is very handsome!” she said, defending her cousin. “And thank you. I think.”
“Sorry,” he murmured. “I think.”
The waitress arrived. Olivia ordered a Jack Daniel’s on the rocks; he opted for the same. They both decided on steak and their order was in.
She sipped her drink when it was served but still looked restless. “I just wish we could be doing something more.”
“We actually are,” he told her.
“We are? How?”
“Back in the offices, they’re sifting through backgrounds and finding out everything that they can about everyone involved with the Horse Farm.”
“But you’ve done that, haven’t you?”
“We just keep going deeper and deeper,” he said. “Trying different approaches and looking for new connections.”
“And does that help?” she asked. She rubbed the condensation on her glass. “I guess I’m afraid we’ll never get to the truth.”
He was surprised when he found himself reaching across the table to take her hand. “We will. That’s what the Krewe units do.”
She nodded.
And she didn’t pull away.
“This is all new to me,” she said. “Malachi was working for himself and the next thing I know he’s at the academy. I researched the Krewe of Hunters and read between the lines. I asked him a lot of questions. I was stunned to discover that he’s really happy. He’s engaged to a coworker and...and then when this happened and I called him...”
“You ended up with me.”
She didn’t reply; their food arrived. When the waitress left, Olivia cut a piece of meat and asked, “How did you come to be part of...this? How did you find the Krewe?”
“They found me. Actually, Malachi was partnered in New Orleans with a detective who joined the force in Savannah. And I worked with the same guy, David Caswell, in Savannah. He’d suggested me before your situation came up, and since I do know Nashville and vicinity, it seemed like a good time and place to start.”
“Oh.”
“I know what I’m doing,” he told her. “I’d wanted to get in with the Krewe—but you don’t just apply for it. And guess what, Ms. Gordon? I have seniority over your cousin. He got roped into the academy through the Krewe. I was already an agent when I got recruited.” He stopped talking. He didn’t need to defend himself.
She smiled. “I didn’t say anything. I’m just glad someone believed me. Except that I knew Malachi would.” She inhaled a shaky breath. “How...how did you find out? Are you one of those people who sees them—” She broke off, and lowered her voice. “Who often sees ghosts?”
He nodded. “Often enough. It started when I was a kid. I used to talk to an old fellow who haunts a tavern—the place where I first met your cousin, by the way—and my parents thought I had an imaginary friend. I think, prior to that, I was intended to be an only child. No, I think I was a surprise myself. But I do know I made them decide to have another.”
“You must have been a wonderful kid.”
“Nope. I scared them. Anytime Rayna starts getting uppity with me, I remind her that she might not have existed if it weren’t for my ‘imaginary’ friends.”
“She gets uppity?”
“Occasionally.” He shook his head. “But not usually. She’s a good kid. And she’s the perfect product of Nashville. She loves music. In fact, she’s like a kid herself when she sees others perform.”
“Aha! It’s parental and sibling issues that plague you! We can work on that at the Horse Farm,” she said solemnly, but a small smile curved her lips.
He grinned, sitting back. “My parents are great people, too. They’re major-league academics and spend their lives pursuing interesting places and knowledge, even in retirement. They don’t see ghosts or believe in them. Ghosts aren’t scientifically verifiable, in their opinion. What about you? What’s your history with ghosts?”