“I have no idea why.”
Evening’s lips curled faintly. “Perhaps because of your attachment to his ex. Word has a way of getting around, Sergeant Flynn.” He tapped one bubble-tipped finger against the rocker. “Remember that Lyle is living in the past.”
Head-shrink double talk. “And that’s important, because?”
Dark eyes flashed to Ryan’s face. “Because in the past, he and Ms. Lynch were a couple. You have intruded upon that memory.”
Ryan grunted and looked down the street. More psychological bullshit. “So why are you sitting here instead of trying to round him up?”
Two cars drove past, their headlights bright yellow in the murky gray of twilight. Three doors to the right, the owner of the drycleaner removed his Open sign and closed up shop. Point Pleasant was winding down for the night.
“I’m observing.” Evening looked back to the road. “The more time that passes, the more likely Mr. Mason will surface. It’s been several days since he left Pennsylvania.”
Several days and still nothing. Lyle’s memory might be short-circuited, but he’d grown adept at keeping a low profile. It was even possible he’d stocked his car with supplies and was living out of the vehicle. If that were the case, he could be holed up in the TNT. With all the patrols and circus of Mothman hunters scouring the area, it was odd someone hadn’t spotted him, but he’d grown up here and knew the region well. The guy was proving every bit as elusive as the damn cryptid.
“You appear frustrated, Sergeant.” Evening’s tone was wry.
Smart ass. “I wish you knew why the hell Mason came back here in the first place. Saying he’s ticked about something doesn’t cut it.”
“Perhaps you need to figure it out. Mr. Mason grew up in Point Pleasant, not Austin. He has history here.”
That damn accent. It made Evening come across as superior. It was also maddeningly hard to place, as if the inflection was the offshoot of more than one dialect. He had a point about Mason, but the guy had been a loner with only a smattering of friends, and a handful of girls after Katie, none of whom Ryan knew. He could ask around and try to pinpoint connections to Lyle’s past, but the whole thing felt like a crapshoot. It didn’t make sense Katie was the catalyst of Lyle’s rage, given their relationship ended before Sam was born.
“The people of this town are more likely to remember something unsettling in Mr. Mason’s past than I am,” Evening continued as if Ryan was too dense to make the connection.
“Point taken.” The admission came grudgingly, Ryan’s voice nearly as biting as the air. Evening might not be bothered by the cold, but Ryan had reached the end of his tolerance for standing outside. Time to wrap the conversation. “You’re not from Pennsylvania.”
“That much should be obvious.” Evening stood, unwinding with the smooth agility of a cat. Before Ryan could press the issue, Evening tipped his hat in an antiquated parting gesture. “I believe I’m through observing. Good day, Sergeant.”
Rather than head indoors, he preceded down the street—a tall man in a long black coat, as out of sync with the decade as he was with Point Pleasant. Ryan scowled after him, feeling something had slipped through his grasp. Something important he’d overlooked in their conversation.
Jamming his hands into his pockets, he headed in the opposite direction.
It was nearing eleven-thirty at night when Doreen Sue walked into her living room to find Katie sitting on the couch, absorbed in a paperback. Nestled into the corner of the sofa, her daughter was dressed in comfortable-looking blue sweat pants, a dark blue pullover, and heavy pink robe. Legs curled to the side, she sat with one elbow propped on the armrest as she pored over the book.
“I thought you’d be in bed by now.”
“What?” Katie flinched at her abrupt presence, placing a hand over her heart. She’d clearly been engrossed in reading to the point of tuning out her surroundings.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Doreen Sue switched on a lamp by the front window. “How can you see with just one light?”
“I’m fine.” Katie wedged a finger between the pages to mark her place. “Did you have a nice time with Martin?”
“Wonderful.” Doreen Sue plopped her purse onto a chair, then peeled off her jacket. It was nice of her daughter to ask. Katie hadn’t liked most of the men she’d dated, but she appeared genuinely fond of Martin. “We went for dinner, then headed back to his place so I could visit with Rex. I took him a nice new chew toy. He seems like his old self.”
“That’s what Sam said too.”
Doreen Sue plopped into a chair across from her daughter. “I guess Sam’s in bed. Is he sleeping okay?” She was glad to have Katie and her grandson as houseguests for a few days, but the reason for their stay troubled her. If Katie hadn’t agreed to come of her own free will, Doreen Sue would have put her foot down and insisted they get out of the house. The sooner Ryan Flynn and the sheriff’s department rounded up Lyle Mason the better. “I worry about him having nightmares.”
Katie hugged the paperback to her chest. “That’s part of it, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“Nightmares. It says so in here.” Katie tapped the book.
Doreen Sue had seen her with the pulp piece before, a study of UFO sightings that had belonged to Jerome. She’d also noted all the handwritten notes in the margins. More than a casual observer of the unexplained, Jerome appeared obsessed with anything mysterious.
Shifting her feet to the floor, Katie leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Did I have bad dreams too? After that night coming home from Ravenswood?”
“Oh, dear.” Doreen Sue tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Back to that again. “Yes, you had nightmares. But they went beyond dreams. You would see things in your room. Imagine a presence looming over you.”