Free southern ghost hunters 01 - southern spirits by angie fox

moment.
    The police cruiser's flashing lights made me wince. I knew he was only doing his job, and a tough one at that, but I hated being the cause of his late-night investigation. I had to tell him, "This is all rather innocent."
    "I'll bet." He leaned in close enough for me to catch the scent of him, a pure male earthiness that had nothing to do with perfume counters or aftershave. What you saw was what you got, it seemed. He cocked his head and leaned in closer. "My brother said you were sly."
    Of all the— "That's not fair."
    Ellis Wydell had known me all my life and ignored me for a good portion of it. I didn't even see him much when I dated Beau. The brothers didn't run in the same social circles. 
    Then Ellis had been off in Virginia at some FBI institute for police, and now he was back, poking his nose in where he wasn't wanted, ready to judge me on a word and a glance and a pile of bills I'd stuffed into my pocket.
    "I didn't mean any harm," I told him. "Truly." I wasn't exactly sure why, but it was important for him to understand that.
    He simply opened the back door. "Get in the car."
    Right. Of course. I had to wait here while he got the facts from someone he trusted.
    My heart sank as I eased inside. It didn't matter what Ellis thought, I tried to convince myself. He was one person, a biased one at that. 
    "Now you stay here," he warned, before he closed the door.
    I watched him walk back, squirming a little in my seat. Maisie was a loose cannon, and it seemed like those two had a pretty good relationship. 
    Still, he had nothing on us as long as we stuck to the truth. And that was good because I had to get out of here and use the three thousand dollars that was burning a hole in my pocket.
    In the meantime, I felt rather small sitting in the backseat of the police cruiser.
    I'd never been in one before. The smooth vinyl seat felt hard against my backside, very different from my well-worn velvet cushions in the Cadillac. Steel mesh separated me from the front seat, where the radio buzzed with reports of police activity in progress. 
    Reckless driver on Alvin York Boulevard.
    Stumbling drunk at the Circle K on Fifth and Main.
    Surely either of those was more urgent than a girl escaping a haunted house with a pile of money.
    Ellis returned to Mrs. Hatcher. I couldn't read the widow's expression. She stood several yards away, out of the light cast by the headlights of the patrol car. Yet I saw her hands flutter near her neck. She'd better not be telling him about the locket. Not when I couldn't show it to him.
    It was all facts with him, nothing else. I tried to tell myself that his good opinion of me didn't matter a whit.
    That his words hadn't hurt. 
    I tucked my long hair back behind my ears and straightened my sundress around me. I'd never had anyone think the worst of me until The Incident. Now it happened far more than I liked. But no one had ever been as blunt or as bold as Ellis. That man was in a league of his own.
    At this point, nothing should have startled me, but still, I jumped when Frankie shimmered into view in the seat next to me. 
    He glanced from the dash-mounted GPS system to the lit-up police computer crowding the front seat. "The fuzz has gotten fancier over the years." He ran a hand over the seat between us and gave me a pointed look, like he was instructing a six-year-old to stay out of the street. "You realize now is the time to run."
    "I'm not a criminal." Not really. "You of all people should know that." I shifted to face him. "And speaking of running, why'd you leave me alone in a haunted house with a poltergeist inside?"
    He let out a huff. "You gotta be kidding me. I held off the crazy mamma so you could get the loot."
    "Fine job you did. The spirit ambushed me."
    He pursed his lips. "Well, maybe if you hadn't spent so much time yakking about your love life, you could've gotten out of there before she got tired of me. And before the cops showed up."
    "Oh, so this is my fault?" I