He just watched with a heavy-lidded gaze as she dragged them down to his knees, and melted into her touch.
TWENTY-SEVEN
DIRTY DEEDS DONE DIRT CHEAP
“I don’t like this.” Aster shut the glove compartment and gazed worriedly out the windshield. It was the understatement of the year. After searching the front and back seats, she hadn’t found a single thing that could be considered out of the ordinary, and certainly nothing that could lead them to Madison, or at least hint at what’d happened to her. “What if it’s a setup? It feels like a setup.” She stared at Ryan, torn between wanting him to stop the car and wanting him to keep driving. In the end, her curiosity prevailed and she settled for seeing it through.
“Oh, it’s definitely a setup.” Ryan gripped the wheel so hard his knuckles paled. “What are the chances of us just randomly bumping into Madison’s car?” He looked at her for so long that she gestured frantically for him to focus back on the road. Last thing they needed was to wreck a car the cops were undoubtedly looking for. “Clearly someone wanted it found. Still, there’s no way they could’ve known we’d be right there at that exact time . . . unless we’re being watched.” He shot Aster a sideways glance.
“If you were trying to calm my nerves, consider that a fail.” Aster shivered. “Question is, if they did leave it for us, was it so they can call the cops and get us arrested for grand theft auto, or—?”
Before she could finish, Ryan said, “No, this is about the Ghost.”
Aster looked at him. She had no idea what that meant.
He nodded toward the GPS. “That’s the name of the destination.”
Aster squinted. How had she missed that? Now that she’d seen it, she couldn’t help but wish she hadn’t.
“So . . . the Ghost is a place?”
Ryan looked at her. “We’re about to find out. According to this thing”—he nudged his chin toward the monitor—“we’re not all that far.”
At the GPS prompt, they pulled into a parking lot facing a small, two-story, nondescript office complex comprised of a U-shaped building set around an open courtyard.
“I don’t get it.” Aster frowned at the view as Ryan parked in a spot that was shielded from the street, then busily scrolled through his contacts list.
“I knew it,” he mumbled under his breath as he tucked his phone in his pocket and set about wiping down the gearshift and steering wheel with the cuff of his sleeve. “Better get your prints off that glove box, the door handle, and anything else you might’ve touched.”
She shot him a questioning look.
“It’s too risky to keep driving it. We’ll find another way home. Just after we check out this place.”
“Mind telling me what’s going on?” she whispered. “Because it seems like you know where we are, and it would be nice if you clued me in too.”
Ryan grimaced. “It’s a hunch, nothing more. I’ll let you know if I’m right.”
Aster followed him to the directory. She was barely able to make out the names before Ryan was racing up a flight of stairs and across a landing to where he stopped before a door bearing a plaque readin
g Banks Janitorial.
“Guy’s got a sense of humor.” He glanced at Aster when he added, “He cleans up celebrity dirt.”
He tried the knob only to find the door locked, and was just making for the window when Aster said, “Maybe this’ll work.” She unfolded her fingers to present a single gold key.
“Where’d you find that?” Ryan stared at her suspiciously.
“Glove box,” she mumbled, sliding the key into the lock.
“And you didn’t say anything?”
She shrugged and pushed the door open. “Wasn’t sure it mattered till now.”
Her hand went directly for the light switch, but Ryan was quick to grasp it in his before she could reach it. “It’ll attract too much attention,” he said. “Better to work in the dark.”
“Attention from who?” It was time for Ryan to talk. She was sick of being left out. “Why should we care about this janitor ghost guy? This just looks like some boring office park to me. So what exactly are you expecting to find?”
Ryan leaned against a wall and shined his phone discreetly around the small space. The light moved from a messy desk towering with papers, to a beat-up metal filing cabinet that had seen better days, to a set of well-worn chairs separated by a cheap plastic table, to the obligatory office spider plant that, from the looks of it, was desperately in need of watering.