The Man Who Hated Ned O'Leary (Dig Two Graves 2)

The overgrown bushes filling the front garden of the abandoned house offered more than enough cover, but two men scaling a tall iron fence would draw attention no matter what. If they even managed to cross the street.

He needed to come up with a plan.

Cole gestured at Ned when he spotted a small window leading into the attic of a house across from their gloomy destination.

“You said we’re going to the church. What now?” Ned asked.

“We’re meeting Jan in an hour in that big old building across the street. The one with broken windows and weeds in the garden,” Cole said and ducked his head to enter the attic, keeping to himself that it was the same place he’d told Tommy and Ned about as they approached Denver. The last thing he needed now was ghost panic when they had real problems to deal with.

The air inside was thick with dust, and only once he slid to the wooden floor, tired as if he’d been running up a steep mountain all day, did he notice eyes staring at him.

Four dolls sat on miniature thrones on a table covered with an embroidered cloth. Each wore a lovely dress in a length fit for little girls. Made of expensive-looking fabric, the clothes had been accessorized with jewelry, hats, and tiny gloves, and as Cole moved closer, mesmerized by the quality of work put into applying a rosy flush to the porcelain faces, he could have sworn the hair on their heads was real.

The rest of the attic contained boxes and chests of all kinds, but the unsettling way the dolls stared out into the street, as if they were the judges of an unholy court, gave him a chill.

“What in all hells—” he uttered a curse when his head hit the ceiling, but there was no point in arguing with the space they invaded. He settled on his knees next to Ned, who frowned at a pamphlet featuring a picture of four girls playing in front of a house that looked suspiciously similar to the one across the street.

Ned’s frown was deep as the Great Canyon. “You’re taking me to a house filled with ghosts? Have you gone mad?”

Shit.

Cole rested both hands on his hips and took a deep breath, staring at the halo created around Ned’s face by floating dust and sun-kissed red hair. “Yes. Nobody goes in there. It’s a perfect hideout.”

Ned faced away from him with a growl, and his profile was yet more stunning. Cole’s lips itched to kiss that big nose all over. Their ordeal hadn’t ended, but he’d at least managed to get Ned out of jail. Surely they could find a way to talk about a future?

“Nobody goes there for a reason.”

Cole slumped against a huge chest made of wood and leather. “That story I told you is embellished, so don’t you look at that stupid sheet of paper again, because the people who printed it make money selling sensationalist balderdash. That’s why so many people turn dumb when they read too much!”

“Are you saying people haven’t been murdered there?” Ned grumbled and sat as far away from Cole as the small space allowed. When an old-timey candelabra fell onto his head from a shelf, he swore loudly. “Sure, why not? Let Cole whisk you away to some death pit. What’s it matter now anyway?”

Heat buzzed in Cole’s chest. “It matters, because I’m saving your life! And stop talking to yourself when I’m right here!”

Ned blinked several times, as if the confrontational words confused him. “You’ve got no business listening in on a private conversation I am having with myself!” he growled and hugged his knees while pouting like an overgrown child.

Cole swallowed, overcome by a wave of tenderness. “I didn’t mean to. It’ll all be over in a few hours. We’ll both be safe, back on the road,” he said, leaning over to touch him.

“And doing what? I was trying to do something good in my life for once, and you wouldn’t even let me have that!” Ned reached up to his head, as if he wanted to lower his hat to his forehead, but then realized he wasn’t wearing one.

Cole removed the police helmet and offered it to him, shifting ever closer under the watchful eye of the creepy dolls that were suspiciously reminiscent of the murdered girls pictured in the pamphlet. The warm embrace Ned had locked him in for that brief moment of relief on the roof felt like something that had happened a lifetime ago, and now he was cold despite the woolen coat.

“Why did you do it? Ned, you don’t deserve what they’d put you through.”

“You don’t get to know what I’m thinking anymore!” Ned grabbed the helmet and put it on to obscure his face.

“Neddie—”

“I told you not to call me that!”