Page 15

Chapter Fifteen

Overall, Caleb thought Delia was adapting to the situation fairly well. True, in that moment when their eyes had met, he’d seen her doubt and awkwardness, and understood she was in no way ready for their relationship to be anything other than professional, but that was okay.

The thrill of the chase was half the fun.

She took him to a warehouse that had what seemed to be thousands of slabs on display, both inside the showroom itself and out in the back lot as well. Getting his first look at all that stone, he wondered if maybe he should ease up on his all-black vision and instead get something that would contrast with the black cabinets he wanted. There was such a bewildering variety of colors and patterns, he didn’t quite know where to look first.

But Delia seemed to understand what he wanted more than he himself did, guiding him to a slab of black soapstone whose veining was a soft beige color rather than white, an unusual combination that he thought would work well with the white oak floors he already had planned.

“One slab will be enough?” he asked, mostly because he hadn’t seen another like it and wanted to be certain he wouldn’t have to worry about running out.

“Oh, sure,” she said, looking unconcerned. “This stuff goes farther than you might think. You’ll need something different for the bathrooms, though.”

Well, he wasn’t worried about that, mostly because he’d already decided that he wanted each one to have a distinct personality, even if he intended to maintain the same color scheme of black and neutrals throughout the house. He wanted something sleek and modern and hip, a design that would pay homage to the mid-century inspiration of the house without being too slavish about trying to copy any original styles too closely.

“Then I think we can slap a ‘sold’ sticker on it,” he told her. “But maybe keep looking so I can see what I might be able to use for the bathrooms.”

In the end, they found pretty much everything he needed, including some dark gray Dolomite with off-white veining for the fireplace surround. The manager at the warehouse said it wouldn’t be a problem to store everything until it was needed, and once they were done, Caleb guided Delia back to his SUV, both his heart and his wallet feeling a lot lighter.

Because after the traffic accident, he hadn’t left the house, and instead had ordered DoorDash when he didn’t feel like making something to eat. He supposed one of the imps could have disguised itself as a delivery driver, except it still didn’t seem as if the demons had figured out where he lived, thanks to the way he made sure he was picked up or dropped off in other locations around town. That didn’t explain how the demon had known he was the one to summon that particular Uber, but he hoped he’d figure it out soon.

This was the first time he’d ventured out of the house since the accident, and on the drive over to Delia’s office, he’d kept looking from side to side, wondering if some random vehicle was suddenly going to ram him or maybe one of those annoying little imp demons was going to pop up from the back seat and try to snap his neck.

None of those things had happened, though, and he had to wonder exactly what was going on here. Was it simply that he was in the company of a regular human being, and whoever was controlling those imps knew that sending them to attack him when there were mortal witnesses around wasn’t a very good idea?

That didn’t explain why they hadn’t come after him at his house, the place where he was most vulnerable. He might have been part demon, but he had to sleep like everybody else.

“Now can I buy you lunch?” he asked after he’d slid the receipts into his wallet and he and Delia were walking away from the sales counter. “Because I think this time we really have something to celebrate.”

He’d expected her to come up with some sort of excuse to avoid the meal, even though she’d half agreed to it already. Instead, she surprised him by saying, “Sure. I don’t need to be back at the office until two.”

They headed out to the parking lot and got into his Range Rover. He’d offered to drive, mostly because his vehicle was bigger and more luxurious, and Delia had gone along with the plan without argument.

So they drove to a nearby restaurant that served vaguely California-inspired fare, where they were seated quickly enough since they were coming in at the tail end of lunch. Before Delia could protest, Caleb ordered a bottle of pinot grigio, although she sent him a sideways look after the waiter headed off to fetch the wine.

“Hey,” he said with a grin, “at least I didn’t order champagne.”

“True,” she replied. Her mouth quirked at the corner, telling him she was trying to hold back a smile of her own. “I just have to hope my two o’clock won’t mind if I’m the slightest bit tipsy.”

He knew he wouldn’t mind. Although she’d been friendly and professional this whole time, he still hadn’t seen much slippage in her public veneer, and he wished she would let her guard down with him, if only a little bit.

After spending his entire life in Greencastle, surrounded by people he’d known since pretty much the day he was born, he had to admit there was something fascinating about being around someone who was a mystery to him.

“I’ll drink most of the bottle,” he offered, and Delia smiled outright.

“I appreciate your sacrifice.”

They both chuckled, then spent a minute or so studying the menu so they’d be ready to order once the waiter came back with their wine. Which he did soon enough, so Caleb was glad that he’d already settled on the chicken sandwich, while Delia ordered an Asian salad with grilled chicken.

Did she have to watch what she ate, or was she only being moderate because she didn’t feel like eating a heavy meal in the middle of the day? He couldn’t say for sure; she seemed naturally slender to him, willowy and tall, but maybe she really had to work at it to stay that slim.

“To Pueblo Street,” he said, lifting his wine glass, and Delia clinked hers against it.

“To closing the sale,” she responded. “And to the project ahead of us.”

They’d made one small step in that direction today with the order of the stone for all the various countertops. “You really think it’s going to take a whole six months?”

She sipped some pinot grigio. “Maybe a little less. It just depends on how quickly you can get a crew in there, and whether all the materials you want are in stock or whether they’re on back order. I’m sure you’ll want custom cabinets, and those take a while.”

Right. He wanted the house to be a showplace when it was done, which meant he needed something a little fancier in the kitchen and bathrooms than a bunch of prefab cabinets from a big-box store. It wasn’t so much that he planned to entertain a whole lot, but more that he’d grown up in a large, elegant home, and while this one would be utterly different in design and feel, he thought it should still reflect a certain level of taste.

“Well, it’ll be an adventure,” he remarked, and helped himself to a swallow from his glass of wine.

Another smile. “That’s one way of looking at it.”

The waiter came over with their food, and they were quiet for a moment as they both attended to their meals. And although Delia had seemed cheerful enough at the stone warehouse and as they drove over to the restaurant, now Caleb couldn’t help thinking something about her seemed almost subdued, as if she had some sort of problem weighing on her mind, one that didn’t seem to have any connection to the house on Pueblo Street or its looming remodel.

If he’d known her better, he might have asked her what was wrong. As it was, he tried to keep the conversation going by talking about the various design choices for the home, and what she thought would be the best way to handle the ragged, overgrown front and back yards.

The last thing he could do was talk about the way an imp demon had attacked him in his Uber the day before, not when the hostess seated a couple of noisy men next to them, two guys who seemed to have the need to discuss their picks for the playoffs at the top of their lungs.

Although Delia’s expression remained neutral enough, Caleb thought he saw her wince when the bros let out a loud shout of laughter. She might have spent some of her formative years playing in an all-girl punk band, but he could tell she had a low tolerance for idiots.

Yet another thing he liked about her.

Any chance at a real conversation had been effectively thwarted, so they ate the rest of their meals as quickly as they could without looking like they were trying to bolt their food. Not much respect was paid to the wine, either, but sometimes that was just how things shook out.

As they approached his Range Rover, Delia said, “It’s a shame some people never learned to use their inside voices.”

“That’s for sure,” Caleb replied, then opened the passenger door for her. “I promise I’m not that obnoxious after a couple of beers with the guys.”

Her cool, green-hued eyes surveyed him for a moment. “Do you have guys to hang out with? It seems to me like you kind of keep to yourself.”

Well, that was true. In Greencastle, he’d had plenty of people to socialize with, some of them part demon like him, a whole lot more just regular humans he’d gone to high school and college with. Here in Vegas, it seemed his closest relationships were with the DoorDash guys…and possibly Delia herself, even though Caleb guessed she might not appreciate that view of her very much.

“I’m working on the social network,” he said, then headed around to his side of the vehicle so he could get in the driver’s seat. “It’s always hard to establish yourself in a new town.”

“Especially when you have so many secrets to keep.”

Although he’d been about to back out of their parking space, he allowed himself a quick sideways glance at Delia before he did so. Her expression was more thoughtful than anything else, so he guessed she hadn’t made the comment as a dig at him.

No, it was more an expression of fact than anything else.

“It doesn’t help,” he allowed as he guided the Range Rover onto Desert Inn Road. “But I suppose you haven’t had to deal with that sort of thing much, right?”

She had been staring ahead, her gaze apparently fixed on the cars in front of them. Now she looked over at him, waiting a beat or two before she responded.

“Not really,” she said. “I mean, I grew up here. We moved a couple of times because my mother liked to find bigger and better houses for us, but my parents always made sure to stay in the same general area so I wouldn’t have to start over in a new school and have to make a whole new set of friends.”

Well, that answered that question. “Do you keep in touch with any of your high school friends?”

Again, she paused for a few seconds. Then she said, “A couple. But people are busy with their own lives, so it’s not like I get together with them every Friday to work on my fantasy football league or anything.”

He supposed real estate agents could have crazy work hours, too, since they had to maneuver around people’s schedules and would probably have to see their clients after work during the week and whatever time was convenient on the weekend.

That was one thing that made him easy to work with, he supposed — he didn’t have anything like a real job, so he could come and go according to times that worked for both of them.

But since it seemed as if Delia was willing to share at least a little personal information, he thought he might try to ask another question.

“Do you come from a big family?”

He halfway hoped she would say yes. His family had been just his mother and father and him, and the Lockwoods weren’t exactly the most loving, nurturing family in the world. He’d often thought that if he’d had a brother or sister, someone who could be a friend or at least an ally, then maybe his childhood would have been a little more bearable.

However, Delia shook her head. “No, it was just me and my parents. They tried to have more kids after me, but it never worked out.” She smiled then, a little crookedly. “At least I never had to fight with someone over the bathroom or who was hogging the remote when I wanted to watch TV after school.”

Caleb supposed that was one way of looking at the situation.

But she must be close with her mother, or he doubted Delia would have ever agreed to share an office and a business with Linda Dunne. He hadn’t seen the other woman very much, only a couple of times in passing as he was coming and going from Dunne & Dunne, but she’d always seemed friendly, smiling at him in acknowledgment as she headed out to meet a client or host an open house.

She definitely seemed like a much more pleasant person than Brooke Lockwood.

“Being an only child does have its benefits,” he agreed.

By that point, they’d almost reached the parking lot for the building where her office was located, so he turned on his signal and moved into the right lane.

“So…what now?” he asked, glad to spy a parking place almost immediately in front of the main entrance.

“Now,” Delia said as she hefted her purse on her shoulder, “I’ll make a few phone calls to my favorite G.C.s and see who’s available. After that, I’ll pass their names on to you so you can meet them at the property and have them give you a firmer quote on the scope of work. But in the meantime, the house is yours, so I think you should go back and really walk the property and get an idea of what you want to do. I always get much more of a feel for a house once I’m able to be alone there for a while and get into all the nooks and crannies.”

At least he wouldn’t have to worry about being attacked by a vengeful ghost while poking around in the linen closet. Then again, Caleb wasn’t sure whether that had ever been a real risk. The spirit of the serial killer seemed to have known he wasn’t exactly human and therefore not viable prey.

But Delia’s suggestion sounded like a good one. While he’d certainly liked having her company as they walked the property and talked over possibilities for the design, there was something to be said for evaluating a place on your own without any outside input.

“All right,” he said. “In fact, I think I’ll head over there after this.”

“Good plan.” She opened the passenger-side door, then added, “And I’ll call you as soon as I have some info about the G.C.s.”

Caleb nodded, and she got out. For a moment, he remained where he was, watching as she headed into the building, coppery hair swishing with every movement, bright and shimmering against the teal blue jacket she wore.

Damn, she was gorgeous.

But she also wasn’t interested, which meant there wasn’t much point in sitting there and gawking at her.

He backed out of the parking space and pointed the Range Rover toward the house on Pueblo Street.

Because the garage hadn’t been updated yet and didn’t have a working opener, Caleb parked in the driveway. However, leaving his SUV there rather than on the street still seemed to send a subtle message that this place really was his.

Despite all the exposed two-by-fours and supplies stacked everywhere, the house felt a little more cheerful than it had the last time he was here. Sunlight streamed through the big windows, and a couple of birds — plain old finches and sparrows, from what he could tell — had settled on the back wall and were cheeping away.

And he could tell no more ghosts lingered here. The worry had floated around in the back of his mind that maybe he hadn’t located all the victims and maybe a spirit or two would emerge from the woodwork now that their murderer was gone, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

No, his was the only presence here.

As he was poking around the master bedroom, trying to decide whether he should leave the closet as-is or whether he should have the contractors steal a little space from the bathroom to expand it, he saw that Delia had been right. It was good to get familiar with the house and have a clearer idea of what he wanted to do with it.

During the process, though, he realized that he truly did want to make this place his — not as an income property, but as the place where he lived. The remodel would allow him to put his personal stamp on the house, something he hadn’t been able to do with his current home, which had been completely updated — and furnished — before he moved in. Sure, this property wouldn’t be ready for months and months, but whenever the reno was complete, he would live here, not in the house he’d thought would be a good place to set down roots.

Some people probably would have thought he was crazy for wanting to move into a murder house like this, but the ghosts were long gone. Whatever residue of sorrow and pain might have lingered after their deaths, it certainly wasn’t around anymore.

He went back into the living room and peeked outside. The Range Rover sat unmolested in the driveway, telling him that whoever was directing those imp demons, they didn’t seem to know he was here.

Unless….

Now that he thought about it, the answer seemed ridiculously simple. The attacks had occurred when he was either on-site at a casino — or at least its parking structure — or while he was en route to one. Nothing at all had happened when he was only driving to Delia’s office or the grocery store or the bank.

Which meant that whoever was in charge, they seemed a lot more interested in keeping him away from the casinos rather than making sure he was permanently removed from the equation.

Contrary to popular belief, demons weren’t that invested in killing people. They liked to torment them, relished their pain, but outright murder raised a lot of questions, even if there was no chance of actually finding the killer, not when demons didn’t leave any real evidence behind and could pop back to Hell and escape detection.

And killing him now that he’d woven himself a little more tightly into the fabric of the city by buying property and interacting with people like Delia — or even Paige Loomis — on a professional level made such a proposition even more problematic. Maybe if the other demons had figured out who he was and what he was doing much earlier in the process, when he was still moving from hotel room to hotel room while deciding which house to buy, they would have had an easier time making sure his gambling activities were stopped permanently.

Now, though….

Well, if they had a bug up their ass because he’d won too much money at their damn casinos, it would be easy enough for him to stop gambling. He already had a decent chunk of change in the bank, and maybe now was the time to think about investing some of it rather than relying on the gaming tables to provide him with his income. Delia must know a financial advisor she could recommend.

After arriving at that solution, Caleb almost wanted to laugh out loud. Could it really be so easy?

He sure as hell hoped so.