“I will, thanks.”
Across from me, Leslie persisted. “It’ll help take your mind off everything. Please stay.”
I stood with Mike as he signed the check. “Rain check. It was nice meeting you. Night, Wesley.”
Wesley stood. “Night, Sydney. Sorry about your day.”
“Thanks.”
There was a storm rolling in. Mike held my hand as we walked to my car. A dull headache throbbed at the back of my head. “I thought something was off. You need to talk about it?”
“No. It’s part of the job. It just makes for a sucky day. I’m going to go home, curl up in bed, and maybe research the letter.”
Mike leaned in to kiss my cheek. “I’ll make sure we don’t have any interruptions tomorrow night. There is something I want to talk to you about. It’s something I found in one of the houses here in town. It can wait, though. I’ll call to check on you later.”
“I can’t wait. Go catch some bad guys.”
That made him smile. “I will.”
I looked in the rearview mirror as I was pulling out of the lot. Mike had stayed until I was safely on my way.
When I was finally home, I put on my pajamas and settled in bed with my laptop and the notebook. I needed to research Quinn Soloman and her family to see what I could find out. As soon as I had some free time, I planned to stop by and see Beatrice at the welcome center. That was a great place to get information on the history of the town.
I held the compass Grandpa had given me as I searched.
There were no records of Quinn Soloman from Salem, Massachusetts. That wasn’t a surprise because records from the 1800s weren’t necessarily online. I searched the name Hathorne and found a Judge John Hathorne, who had been a judge during the witch trials. He’d had two sons and had regretted being part of the trials. I kept reading, wondering if there was any connection. Nathaniel Hawthorne had been a famous writer who changed his name almost a hundred years later in order to disassociate himself from the judge. This wasn’t much to go on. Maybe Beatrice will know. She was one of the most knowledgeable people in the area.
Ahh, the questions.
This was exactly what I needed after a yucky day.
My phone rang. Mike’s name scrolled across the screen, and I gave a little giggle seeing it. I was shocked at the time, though. Over three hours had passed since I arrived home, and I hadn’t noticed.
“Hello, Officer Murphy.”
“I thought I was Mike to you.”
“Aren’t you in uniform?”
For a moment, there was silence, and then Mike’s voice came back on the line. “Not anymore.”
“You’re naked?” I squeezed my eyes shut. “I mean… Don’t answer that. I don’t want the image of you naked. I mean… Yes, I do want the image. But no… no… no… this is going terribly wrong. I’m going to stop talking now.”
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Laughter greeted me from the other end of the line. “I’ve put on a pair of sweatpants. I had to remedy being Officer Murphy.” Sigh… he wanted me to call him Mike. “Unless you want me to be naked.”
I froze. How am I supposed to respond to that? Hearing him get all bothered on the phone would be hot. Like whoa hot. But… but… but…