Big Ghosts Don’t Cry Read online

  “If that isn’t the perfect case for a pre-nup, I don’t know what is,” Lucas muttered under his breath.

  My brows crinkled together as I stared at him. “You’d get a pre-nup?”

  He looked up, a startled look on his face. “Sure. Why not?”

  I scoffed. “That’s kind of depressing, isn’t it? You’re planning for the marriage to fail before it even starts.”

  Flapjack flicked his tail, a slow grin spreading on his face as he leaned in. “Oooo, this just got good.”

  I shot him a sideways scowl.

  “I—I didn’t mean anything by it, Scar, but yeah, I think if you’re rich, it’s a good idea.”

  “Well, let’s say it was us. You have your TV money. I have my inheritance, most of which is tied up in the business. Would we—” I stopped myself, realizing two things. One, we had an audience. Two, we’d never formally talked about marriage, let alone any of the steps that might get us there.

  “Never mind,” I said quickly before he could answer. “What’s going on with the phone numbers?”

  Lucas stared at me for another long moment before dropping his gaze back to the screen. “No hits yet on the numbers. It’s still processing.”

  “All right. Well, in the meantime, let’s get some food ordered.” I jumped up from the table, my cheeks still warm, and scurried into the kitchen. I pulled open the drawer under the microwave and flipped through the take-out menus from the local eateries. “You want something from McNally’s? There’s probably a thirty-minute wait. Pizza would be faster.”

  “Scarlet,” Lucas said.

  “Hmm?”

  When he didn’t answer, I looked over at him. He was watching me with a conflicted look on his face. I raised my brows expectantly and he jerked upright. “Can you, uh, watch this? I need to use the restroom.”

  My heart sank. “Sure.”

  He got up and took long strides across the living room. “And, pizza sounds good. Our usual.”

  Seconds later, the bathroom door closed.

  I raked my fingers through my hair, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut.

  Flapjack sighed. “Sheesh, way to spook the herd, Scar!”

  “She didn’t spook him,” Gwen insisted, scowling at the cat. “Lucas isn’t going to scare off just because you brought up marriage.”

  “You sure about that?” I mumbled, casting a glance toward the short hallway he’d just ducked into.

  Gwen chewed the corner of her lip.

  I drew in a deep breath. “It’s fine. I’m going to order some food. We’ll see if we get a hit on the phone numbers. Was there anything else?”

  Flapjack shook his head.

  “All right. Well, thanks, guys. And thank Sturgeon, too.” I grabbed my own phone off the kitchen counter and held up the menu for the pizza place down the street. “I think we’re going to call it a night on the PI stuff for the night.”

  “That’s our cue,” Flapjack said grumpily. “We’re getting the boot.”

  Hayward rose and automatically offered his arm to Gwen. She slipped her hand through it and then gave me a quick smile. “Have a nice night, Scarlet. Everything is going to be fine.”

  I attempted a smile in return, but it felt forced. “Thanks, Gwen. You too.”

  They turned away, heading for the door. Hayward said something to Gwen as they slipped through and one of the hushed words sounded a lot like scoundrel.

  I sighed and flopped onto the couch.

  Lucas reappeared moments later and went to the table to lean over his laptop.

  “Anything?” I asked.

  “Does the name Scott Putnum mean anything to you?”

  I considered it for a moment, then shook my head. “I don’t think so. Is that who Russ was calling?”

  Lucas nodded, his fingers flying back into action. I waited impatiently as he worked. After a few minutes, his computer spat out a ping sound and Lucas swore. “Well, I don’t know much, but he’s got a record. Aggravated assault. Looks like he only got out of prison six months ago.”

  Lucas straightened and gave me an earnest look. “And what better place to get a world-class education in being a hit man than inside the slammer?”

  A strange mixture of hope and dread churned through me. “Sounds like we got our guy. What next?”

  “I think we need to pay a visit to Mr. Hutchins and see why he was having secret conversations with a violent felon.”

  Sure. What could go wrong?

  Chapter 12

  Gwen winked into the kitchen the next morning as I put on a pot of coffee. She’d perched herself on the counter beside the fridge, and I nearly dropped the glass carafe of cream when I closed the door and found her there.

  I swore loudly and then winced. Lucas was still sleeping soundly in the other room. “Gwen!” I hissed, adjusting my volume. “How many times do I have to tell you guys not to sneak up on me?!”

  She smiled. “Sorry.”

  Grumbling under my breath, I poured the cream into my first cup of coffee and then replaced the small container in the fridge. “Why are you here so early? Isn’t this prime time at the Lucky Lady?”

  The Lucky Lady Salon was Gwen’s favorite haunt. She floated around, slurping up all the gossip and small-town drama like it was sweet nectar. Personally, I couldn’t understand the appeal. Whenever I’d gone in for a trim, it was a bunch of ladies complaining about their husband’s fashion sense or inability to see items right in front of their faces when looking for food. Occasionally, there were younger women, though they mostly bemoaned the lack of decent shopping options and eligible men in Beechwood Harbor.

  “It’s book club today,” Gwen said. “They’re all at Hannah Wesell’s place, drinking mimosas and watching Magic Mike for the dozenth time.”

  I blinked.

  Gwen laughed at my puzzled expression. “They just tell their husbands it’s a book club so they won’t tag along or ask too many questions. Normally, they catch up on The Bachelor, but it’s the off season, so Channing Tatum has worked back into the regular rotation. Not that I’m complaining. The man is basically a walking sculpture.”

  I sat down at the kitchen table and started on my coffee. If I was going to keep up with Gwen, I’d need every last drop. “You still haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here?”

  Gwen swooped across the kitchen and effortlessly floated into the chair across from mine. “I wanted to come make sure you were okay.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  She shrugged. “Last night, things with Lucas seemed a little … tense.”

  I frowned. “You want to know if we talked about getting married.”

  Gwen innocently batted her long lashes. “Only if you want to talk about it.”

  “Well, I don’t,” I told her. “Actually, I take that back. It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it, it’s that there’s nothing to talk about.”

  “Does it bother you that he wants a pre-nup?” Gwen asked, undeterred. “It’s kind of Hollywood, don’t you think?”

  “If by Hollywood you mean high-maintenance and unnecessary, then yes, it’s very Hollywood.”

  Gwen cocked her head, her eyes narrowed. “You’re grumpy this morning. Why is that?”

  “Gwen, it’s eight o’clock, I haven’t had my coffee, and you’re in here peppering me with questions about marriage. It’s just a little too much right now.”

  “Hmm.” She straightened and placed her folded hands on the table.

  “What are you doing now?” I asked, eying her cautiously.

  “I’m waiting until you’ve finished your coffee.”

  “Oh for the love of begonias!” I set my coffee down. “I don’t care that Lucas wants a pre-nup. It’s probably the smart decision, from a logical standpoint, that he protects himself legally. My parents will probably require me to have one anyway, so really, it’s saving me an argument with them, if and when it ever came down to it. But honestly, this whole conversation is ridiculous because
Lucas and I are not engaged!”

  “Do you want to marry him?”

  I sputtered at the simple question. “I—we—I mean, maybe, someday, if things were headed that way, we could—”

  “Scarlet,” Gwen interrupted, tilting her head again. “Yes or no, first thing that comes to mind. Do you want to marry Lucas?”

  I pressed my lips together.

  Gwen raised her eyebrows.

  “Fine! Yes. I think.”

  Gwen squealed.

  I shushed her before remembering Lucas wouldn’t be able to hear her, then was struck with how truly insane my life was and started laughing.

  “This is ridiculous,” I told her.

  She bounced in her seat, rubbing her hands together. “Think of the wedding plans! You’ve probably got the flowers all picked out in your head, but there’s the dress and the church and the cake! I like those cakes where they have the little plastic people on top. Why don’t people do those anymore?”

  “Gwen! Slow down!” I almost reminded her to take a deep breath, but caught myself in time. “This is all just wild speculation. Lucas hasn’t even hinted at marriage. I’m not even sure he ever plans to marry.”

  That dampened her celebration. She sank back into her chair, her smile fading. “Well what would you do then?”

  I sipped my coffee. “What do you mean?”

  “If he doesn’t want to get married and you do?”

  I exhaled. “I’m not worried about that right now. We haven’t been together that long, and he just started a new job, and I’ve got all this … magic crap to figure out. It’s okay if we wait.”

  “Would you leave Beechwood Harbor?” Gwen asked, suddenly sober.

  The question was simple enough, but it somehow hit me upside the head from left field and I hesitated. “I—I don’t know, Gwen. I honestly haven’t thought about it.”

  The bedroom door opened and I snapped my mouth shut. Footsteps sounded and then the bathroom door closed.

  “That’s Lucas,” I whispered.

  I don’t know why I thought she’d take the hint and clear out. Before I could make my meaning clearer, the door opened and Lucas shuffled into the living room. He wore a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and nothing else. He ruffled his tousled hair and scrubbed his hand down his face before looking at me. “Mm. Good morning, baby. Coffee smells good.”

  Gwen’s jaw nearly unhinged as she stared at him, the look in her eyes similar to the one Flapjack got near the fish section of the grocery store.

  I cleared my throat and she snapped out of it. “Hmm? What, Scar? What were you saying?”

  Silently, I tossed my head toward the front door.

  She frowned but levitated from the chair and soared through the room. “This conversation isn’t over,” she warned before sliding out the front door.

  “How’d ya sleep?” I asked Lucas, propping my feet up on the chair Gwen had vacated.

  “I’m not gonna lie, I think the bed at my new place has spoiled me for all other beds,” Lucas teased, going to the coffee maker.

  I smiled. “We can’t all have the full Marriott experience.”

  He laughed.

  “What are the odds I can talk you into making your buttermilk pancakes?” I asked, shifting my attention back to Lucas. “You always get them fluffier than I do.”

  Lucas grinned and poured a cup of coffee for himself. “That’s because I’m patient and wait for the baking powder to activate before I start cooking them. You just throw a big glob in the pan and hope for the best.”

  I scowled at his back but kept my peace. Mostly because I wanted pancakes.

  Lucas chuckled. “I can feel you glaring, by the way.”

  “I’ll make you a deal,” I said. “You make the pancakes now, and I’ll buy lunch later.”

  Lucas reached into the cupboard where I kept my mixing bowls and pulled the largest one down.

  I grinned and finished my coffee while he went to work on the batter.

  “Who were you talking with?” Lucas asked, glancing over his shoulder at me. “I heard you out here chatting.”

  My cheeks warmed. Just how much of my side of the conversation had he picked up on? Mentally, I replayed as much as I could remember. Yikes.

  “Um, Gwen. She stopped by for a few minutes. She’s gone now. Come to think of it …” I paused and craned my neck to peek over the back of the couch. Empty. “No one’s here.”

  Where were Flapjack and Hayward?

  “Were you talking about me?” Lucas asked, casually whisking together the batter.

  My heart thumped a little faster. “Ego much?” I teased.

  He laughed and pulled a frying pan out of the cupboard, turned on the stove, and dropped a little butter in when it got hot.

  While he waited for it to melt, he poured me a second cup of coffee.

  “Thank you.”

  He reached up and tipped an invisible cap. “Gratuities gladly accepted.”

  I laughed. “I’ll just bet. My tip rides on whether or not my syrup is warm.”

  Lucas chuckled and returned to the stove. “Noted.”

  He poured a cupful of batter into the pan and it sizzled, sending the sweet aroma through the kitchen. I reached for my coffee mug and tried to keep my drooling to a minimum.

  Snippets of the conversation with Gwen floated back to me as I watched him work. There was no question I loved Lucas, and I certainly wouldn’t object to waking up with him every morning. But a wedding? Was that what I wanted? As a florist, I spent a good majority of my time in the wedding world, and sure, sometimes I envied the happy glow of the brides I met with for floral consultations. But that didn’t mean I was ready to plan a wedding for myself. Not to mention all the complications after that. Lucas was closer now, but we were still separated by over a hundred miles, and that wasn’t likely to change any time soon.

  I shook my head, banishing the thoughts for the day. Lucas and I were planning to drive into Pine Shoals to confront Sabrina’s ex-husband that evening and needed to prepare. Thoughts of weddings bells and happily ever after would have to wait. Assuming we made it out unscathed.

  Chapter 13

  The burner phone was missing from the welcome mat when we left the apartment that afternoon, and I made a mental note to thank Sturgeon next time I saw him around town. Without his search, we’d be chasing our tails, still looking for a lead to follow up on. Lucas drove us to Pine Shoals in his SUV, and we parked on the opposite side of the street from Russ Hutchins’s large hillside estate. His home stood in stark contrast to Sabrina’s. I wasn’t sure what Russ did for a living but judging by the estate and the massive sum he’d been forking over to his ex-wife, it was clear business was going well.

  Lucas gave a low whistle. “Looks like he’s not hurting, even after the alimony and child support.”

  I nodded. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  “Do you think he’ll be home?” Lucas asked, glancing at the clock on the dash. It was Friday afternoon, right after two o’clock.

  “I called his office to see if we could make an appointment, but his receptionist said he was out for the day. He has to come back eventually.” I leaned forward and tugged at the zipper on the backpack sitting near my feet. “Which, is why I brought snacks.”

  Lucas grinned. “An old-fashioned stake out, huh?”

  “Yeah, but we’re driving back into town if I need the bathroom,” I declared.

  “Fair enough.” He chuckled. “Let’s go knock and see if anyone answers.”

  We climbed out of the car and went across the quiet street. The home was in a neighborhood, but there was a good deal of distance between the properties. Russ’s home featured a long, tree-lined driveway, but it wasn’t gated. Small mercies. Lucas took the lead and we started up the sloped driveway. A three-car garage was attached to the house, but it was impossible to tell if there were cars inside.

  Lucas rang the doorbell and we waited.

  Moments later, the doo
r opened and a middle-aged man with tanned skin, sandy brown hair, and an angular face appeared. “Can I help you?”

  “Are you Russell Hutchins?” Lucas asked.

  The man glanced at me and then back at Lucas. “I am. Who are you?”

  “Lucas Greene. This is my associate.” He gestured at me but didn’t use my name. “We’d like to ask you a few questions about your ex-wife’s murder, if you have some time.”

  Russ balked. “Are you cops?”

  Lucas shook his head. “PI.”

  His answer caught me off guard, but I masked my surprise.

  “Private investigators?” Russ laughed, the sound cold and patronizing. He ran a hand along his jaw, smiling in disbelief. “Unbelievable. They’re really not going to let this go, are they?”

  When Lucas didn’t answer, Russ leaned in, any hint of humor gone. “You tell Gerald and Winnie that I had nothing to do with Sabrina’s murder. I don’t know anything more than what I’ve already told the cops. You can ask them—they’ll tell you I’ve fully cooperated. And now, I have nothing left to say.”

  “I see,” Lucas said calmly.

  Russ tensed, his smile gone. “You know what? You need to tell them to leave this alone, for their granddaughter’s sake. How is Miranda supposed to move past this when it keeps getting dredged up over and over again?”

  “We’re trying to help solve the case,” I interjected. “Don’t you think the closure would help Miranda?”

  Russ looked at me but quickly dismissed my question. “What she needs is to be left alone. Gerald and Winnie are lucky that I’ve been understanding with their ridiculous accusations. But if this keeps up, I’m going to have to rethink their role in Miranda’s life. You make sure they know that.”

  The threat was red hot and I swallowed hard.

  Lucas didn’t back down, his face impassible, like cold steel. “Does the name Scott Putnam mean anything to you?”

  Fire blazed in Russ’s eyes. “This is private property. You need to leave before I call the real cops.”

  He didn’t wait for us to comply before slamming the door in our face. A decisive click followed.

  “Well, that went well.” I exhaled.