“Why?”
“I don’t know.” Placing the paperback on the table, she picked up her coffee. “It might sound silly, but I feel close to Jerome since trying to help him that night. If this”—she motioned to the book—“was important to him, I’d like to glance through it.”
Ryan didn’t care about Katie’s interest in speculative hogwash, but her attachment to Jerome bothered him. A squiggle of emotion strangely like jealousy made his reply clipped. “Whatever. Just don’t go getting crazy ideas about little green men and flying saucers.”
“Don’t poke fun.”
“I’m not.” But, of course, he was. Being condescending, even arrogant, and all because of Jerome. The guy was on the scrawny side and socially inept. Could Katie be interested in someone like that, or was she simply responding with kindness for a friend in trouble? If he didn’t get off the fence soon, he’d never know. “Look, I didn’t mean to ridicule, but whoever was driving that van last night was flesh and blood, not an extraterrestrial.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Then you do think it was someone watching the house?”
He didn’t want to scare her but at the same time wanted to be truthful. “Let’s put it this way. I don’t think it was anyone out for a nighttime drive or looking for directions.”
She paled. “And the Mothman?” Her voice trembled as she said the name.
The million-dollar question. Which, as always, lacked an answer.
Standing, Ryan picked up his jacket. “Keep the book. I’m going to talk to Caden. It’s time I find out exactly what my brother’s connection is to that winged freak.”
The Mothman knows.
Caden took a swig of beer, mentally recounting Parker Kline’s parting words. Sunday afternoon and he was camped on Eve’s sofa, the Pittsburgh Steelers and Baltimore Colts running plays on her console TV. The last he’d looked it was nearing halftime, Pittsburgh leading ten to six.
The smell of baking lasagna wafted from the kitchen where Eve was busy tossing a salad. They’d made the pasta together, but she’d shooed him into the living room afterward, telling him to enjoy the game. Any other time he would have been eager to cheer on Terry Bradshaw or lament a bad call by one of the refs, but he couldn’t focus. His mind kept drifting back to Parker and his weird tidbits of information.
Why bring up the Mothman? And what about the other thing he’d said?
Cold must return. Evening will follow.
What the hell did that mean? There was no question the kid’s mind was broken, yet Jerome had gone to see him for something.
Exhaling, Caden scrubbed a hand over his face. With a rare day off, he shouldn’t be worrying over a UFO fanatic laid up in the hospital. But despite all his eccentric behavior, Jerome was a decent guy. No one deserved to spend their life in a coma, and right now, it didn’t seem like he was going to come out of it.
Caden took another swig of beer. The phone rang and Eve yelled from the kitchen that she would answer. The house was hers, but he’d moved in two weeks ago—right after he’d bought a ring in contemplation of asking her to marry him. He still hadn’t found the right time to propose, the diamond niggling at the back of his mind.
Five minutes later as the Colts were punting, Eve strolled into the room, a dish towel slung over her shoulder, a glass of wine in hand. “That was Sarah.” She sat in the chair adjacent to him. Perched on the edge, she was obviously keyed up about something. “Her mom just left Martin’s gas station after getting a fill up.”
“That’s news.” He kept the amusement in his voice to a minimum, knowing Sarah’s mother liked to gossip.
“No, no. While she was there, Mrs. Sherman saw Doreen Sue, and Doreen Sue was a wreck.” Eve sipped her wine, staring intently at a spot on the floor as if trying to work through a dilemma. “I wonder if I should call Katie.”
“Because Doreen Sue’s upset about something?”
“No.” Eve’s gaze flashed to his face. “Because according to Mrs. Sherman, Doreen Sue saw Lyle buying cigarettes from the vending machine.”
“Lyle?” Caden knew the name should prompt a memory, but his thoughts were wrapped up in Parker, diamonds, and the last forty-five seconds of the half.
“Lyle Mason. Katie’s ex.”
“Oh.” Now he understood. He’d gone to high school with Lyle and his sister, Lottie. A year older, Lyle had been forced to repeat tenth grade, placing him in the same classes as Lottie and Caden. During their senior year, Lottie had died tragically in a fall from a balcony. Never social to begin with, Lyle withdrew, turning increasingly bitter. It was hard to imagine how Katie had ended up in a relationship with such a downer of a guy.
“Katie should know.” Eve’s glance was sharp, as if she sought approval.
“Isn’t Sarah going to tell her?”
“She thinks I should.”
Caden drank his beer, hoping he could stay out of it. Why did women feel the need to get involved? On the TV, the game had been replaced with a commercial of Didi Conn pandering the crispiness of Tostitos. He could use some right about now. “I’m sure Doreen Sue’s going to tell her.”
Eve digested the thought for all of five seconds. “I think I should.”
Thankfully, the doorbell chimed, saving him from committing one way or another. Somehow it didn’t surprise him to find Ryan on the threshold when Eve answered. His brother wandered into the room, declining the offer of a beer from Eve, then dropping to a seat in an easy chair.
“How’s the game?” he asked.
“Halftime,” Caden supplied. “Steelers are winning.”
Ryan nodded, looking distracted. “Smells good in here.”
“We made lasagna.” Eve appeared at his side. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner.”
“Thanks, but I just dropped by to talk to Caden about something.”
“You mean about Lyle?”
Ryan stared blankly. “Lyle?”
“Mason.” Caden shook his head, deciding Parker Kline would have to wait. “Apparently, Lyle Mason, Katie’s ex, is back in town.”