AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Ouch.
I might have uttered a complaint aloud because he murmured, “Almost there.”
The detective drove a sedan—a boring, dark-colored four-door that smelled of fake pine needles when we got in. Not a piece of garbage could be seen. Not even a Timmy’s coffee cup.
Impressive. Movies and shows always portrayed detectives as the biggest slobs. Lucky me, I’d found a hot one who wasn’t an actual pig—explained why he didn’t once look at me.
He probably saw me as trash. I’d seen it growing up. As a girl who liked boyish things but dressed kind of slutty, people made many assumptions. That I was easy to fuck. Tough in a fight.
The truth being, The Jerk was only the second guy I’d ever been with. As for going toe-to-toe with someone? Not for a long while. But that might be changing. The lady in the grocery store who’d plucked a box of bakery-fresh cookies out of my shopping cart had almost gotten throat punched.
“Hey, what are you doing?” I’d exclaimed in surprise. “Those were in my cart.”
“I need them more than you. Some of us have kids.”
I glanced at her cart with its eclectic grouping of food, easily microwaveable pizza pockets, chips, cereal more sugar than nutrition, flavored crystals, and my cookies. “Your kids need you to talk to a nutritionist. Look at all that crap.”
The lady gaped at me. “How dare you?”
“No, how dare you?” I snatched back my cookies. “Think of this as a good time to learn how to bake with your demon spawn. Maybe something with a vegetable or fruit in it.”
In that moment, in that grocery store, I’d stood up for myself, something I’d not done in years because I didn’t want to rock the boat.
It occurred to me that the detective hadn’t said a word since we’d left the hospital. I’d expected a few questions about my attack. Instead, he kept his focus on the road, played some soft jazz on the radio that I didn’t totally hate, and not once tried to put his hand on my thigh.
As he drove past my junkyard, I noticed the gates wide open. Fuck me. Why not put out a sign inviting people to rob me blind? Then again, so long as they didn’t take the stuff in my garage, would I really notice a wreck missing from the many piles?
Despite me not saying a word, the detective knew to turn into the driveway next to the fenced-in yard and then pulled to a stop in front of my tiny bungalow. Weathered, light blue siding, a metal roof a brighter shade of blue—utterly hideous and likely to last forever—and old-style windows framed in wood instead of PVC. They sucked in the cold weather, but I loved the look of them, so I’d counter by eventually adding solar to power the heated floors I’d install.
From the outside? Pure shithole. I’d yet to decide if I’d bother to change it. Let people misjudge the contents. I’d been working on the interior when I wasn’t fixing the cars and uploading random parts online. I really needed to get to sorting the junk faster. Then I could sell the scrap that I couldn’t use and start taking in new wrecks.
“How do you like living here?” the detective asked suddenly as I reached for the handle to escape the sedan.
My one shoulder lifted and fell. “It’s all right. The Ottawa Valley is a lot quieter than I’m used to.”
“I meant the junkyard and house. No problems with the ghost?”
I blinked at him. “What ghost?”
His lips curved, and hot damn, look at that. A dimple. It remained as he spoke. “People say the guy who used to own this place didn’t actually skip town but rather died and has been haunting the junkyard ever since.”
I snorted. “Please. Don’t tell me you believe in that malarky.”
He shrugged. “I don’t. But we’ve had a few calls over the years from people claiming they saw and heard things.”
“What kinds of things?”
“If I tell you, then you’ll really think I’m nuts.” His smile widened.
Despite the pain in my face, I couldn’t help but return it. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but I haven’t run into any poltergeist activity, strange moans, or unidentified floating sheets.”
“If you do, call me.” He handed me a card, which I grabbed before pulling on the door handle.
“Okay. Thanks again for the ride.”
“My pleasure, Ms. Collins.”
“Call me Allie.” Which was short for Alyssa. But he probably already knew that.
