but Lexie very well might, and that would give
her an excuse to quiz Dylan about exactly what he’d seen and hopefully trip him
up. “How can anyone not believe in ghosts? I watched this
series about haunted houses on the History Channel.” Which was true—she’d
watched for about two minutes until she’d concluded it was completely lame.
Lexie clasped her hands together. “I never expected to ever stay in a haunted
house myself. I can’t wait to talk to Dylan.”
“Whatever makes you happy,” Ben said, wrapping an arm around
her shoulders and giving her such an indulgent smile that she’d have slugged
him if his reaction hadn’t been because she was pretending to believe in
ghosts. “We can go for a walk before I head off to work. I’d like to show you
the lake. Assuming you can stand to wait to talk to Dylan.”
“I doubt he’ll be up for at least an hour,” Cecilia said.
Lexie got to her feet. “Then let’s go now.”
“It’s so nice to know you’d pick Dylan over me,” Ben said.
“Only to talk about ghosts to, and you know it,” Lexie said.
“That fake jealousy just makes you look like an idiot. I’ll meet you out front
in five minutes.”
Cecilia grinned. “The more I see you handle Ben, the more I
like you, Lexie. Enjoy your walk.”
# # #
Lexie and Ben made their way through the pines and birch trees,
taking the path that led down the hill to Forest Lake. The world was
cathedral-quiet other than the clomp of their feet and crackle of dry leaves.
Every breath of cool, pine-scented air seemed to scrub out Lexie’s lungs. After
walking maybe five minutes they reached the lake. Sunlight sparkled off the
crystal-blue water and made the rocky shoreline glow. A sky the same deep blue
as the water provided a stunning backdrop to the velvety green pine trees and
silvery birch that covered the hills surrounding the lake.
“This is beautiful,” Lexie said quietly. Speaking at a
normal volume seemed sacrilegious. “Is all of this Max’s property?” Other than
a dock and a storage shed, there was no evidence anyone else used the lake.
“Most of it. The rest is national forest.” Ben plopped down
on a flat-topped gray boulder the size of a loveseat. “I thought you said you
don’t believe in ghosts.”
Lexie sat down beside him. “I don’t. But I thought
pretending to would give me an excuse to quiz Dylan about last night, since
he’s the most likely suspect.”
“Why do you think that?”
“He said that Max told him he knew what he’d done, which I
assume refers to the murder. No one besides us knows Max was murdered. So why
would Dylan dream that if he didn’t do it?”
“Because alcohol makes people paranoid and irrational, even
in nightmares,” Ben said. “We also don’t know for sure that Grandfather’s
comment referred to murder.”
“True,” Lexie said, pulling a notepad from her purse. “But
Dylan also has a gambling problem and owes money to someone possibly connected
to the Mafia, according to Cecilia. He could be desperate for cash. Does he
have a job?”
“He freelances,” Ben said. “Believe it or not, he’s a
computer genius. He could earn a fortune, but he doesn’t have the greatest work
ethic.”
“What a surprise,” Lexie said. “Checking into Dylan’s
finances is the first item on my To Do list.”
“I’ll talk to Cecilia,” Ben said.
“Good idea. Do you want paper and a pen?”
“Why?”
“So you can write a To Do list.”
“I think I can remember everything,” Ben said.
“Are you sure?” She grabbed her purse and unzipped it. “I’ve
got another pen.”
“Lexie, I’m not incompetent,” Ben said, sounding offended.
“I run a business. And I hate To Do lists.”
Lexie rezipped her purse and returned it to the rock. “How
do you know what you have to do each day?”
“If it isn’t obvious, it obviously isn’t important. Since
you’re clearly a big fan of lists, what’s item two?”
She looked down.
her an excuse to quiz Dylan about exactly what he’d seen and hopefully trip him
up. “How can anyone not believe in ghosts? I watched this
series about haunted houses on the History Channel.” Which was true—she’d
watched for about two minutes until she’d concluded it was completely lame.
Lexie clasped her hands together. “I never expected to ever stay in a haunted
house myself. I can’t wait to talk to Dylan.”
“Whatever makes you happy,” Ben said, wrapping an arm around
her shoulders and giving her such an indulgent smile that she’d have slugged
him if his reaction hadn’t been because she was pretending to believe in
ghosts. “We can go for a walk before I head off to work. I’d like to show you
the lake. Assuming you can stand to wait to talk to Dylan.”
“I doubt he’ll be up for at least an hour,” Cecilia said.
Lexie got to her feet. “Then let’s go now.”
“It’s so nice to know you’d pick Dylan over me,” Ben said.
“Only to talk about ghosts to, and you know it,” Lexie said.
“That fake jealousy just makes you look like an idiot. I’ll meet you out front
in five minutes.”
Cecilia grinned. “The more I see you handle Ben, the more I
like you, Lexie. Enjoy your walk.”
# # #
Lexie and Ben made their way through the pines and birch trees,
taking the path that led down the hill to Forest Lake. The world was
cathedral-quiet other than the clomp of their feet and crackle of dry leaves.
Every breath of cool, pine-scented air seemed to scrub out Lexie’s lungs. After
walking maybe five minutes they reached the lake. Sunlight sparkled off the
crystal-blue water and made the rocky shoreline glow. A sky the same deep blue
as the water provided a stunning backdrop to the velvety green pine trees and
silvery birch that covered the hills surrounding the lake.
“This is beautiful,” Lexie said quietly. Speaking at a
normal volume seemed sacrilegious. “Is all of this Max’s property?” Other than
a dock and a storage shed, there was no evidence anyone else used the lake.
“Most of it. The rest is national forest.” Ben plopped down
on a flat-topped gray boulder the size of a loveseat. “I thought you said you
don’t believe in ghosts.”
Lexie sat down beside him. “I don’t. But I thought
pretending to would give me an excuse to quiz Dylan about last night, since
he’s the most likely suspect.”
“Why do you think that?”
“He said that Max told him he knew what he’d done, which I
assume refers to the murder. No one besides us knows Max was murdered. So why
would Dylan dream that if he didn’t do it?”
“Because alcohol makes people paranoid and irrational, even
in nightmares,” Ben said. “We also don’t know for sure that Grandfather’s
comment referred to murder.”
“True,” Lexie said, pulling a notepad from her purse. “But
Dylan also has a gambling problem and owes money to someone possibly connected
to the Mafia, according to Cecilia. He could be desperate for cash. Does he
have a job?”
“He freelances,” Ben said. “Believe it or not, he’s a
computer genius. He could earn a fortune, but he doesn’t have the greatest work
ethic.”
“What a surprise,” Lexie said. “Checking into Dylan’s
finances is the first item on my To Do list.”
“I’ll talk to Cecilia,” Ben said.
“Good idea. Do you want paper and a pen?”
“Why?”
“So you can write a To Do list.”
“I think I can remember everything,” Ben said.
“Are you sure?” She grabbed her purse and unzipped it. “I’ve
got another pen.”
“Lexie, I’m not incompetent,” Ben said, sounding offended.
“I run a business. And I hate To Do lists.”
Lexie rezipped her purse and returned it to the rock. “How
do you know what you have to do each day?”
“If it isn’t obvious, it obviously isn’t important. Since
you’re clearly a big fan of lists, what’s item two?”
She looked down.
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