Rocks & Gravel (Peri Jean Mace Ghost Thrillers Book 3) by Catie Rhodes

colored carpet in the living room, we’d be home free.
    I held my breath, gritting my teeth against the desire pounding in me to run, banging off walls and knocking over furniture if that’s what it took, anything to get me out of there. Sheriff Joey hated me, had since I was a kid. No telling what he’d do if he found me here. Maybe shoot me. Definitely arrest me.
    I took the first step onto the carpet, relief flooding my body. Ten more steps to the front door. We got this. I glanced at Hannah, giving her an encouraging nod. Her face had turned the color of old socks, neither white nor gray, and her lips trembled. Seven more steps. Just seven little steps.
    Joey’s cellphone began ringing. It was too loud to be upstairs. I spotted it on a catch-all table next to the front door. Joey’s heavy footsteps thumped across the upper floor. Hannah and I made a run for it. It slipped right through my sweaty hand. I froze, the inside of my mouth going arid. Hannah reached around me and twisted. Still nothing. We both saw the deadbolt was engaged at the same time. Our hands collided. Hannah brushed mine aside and flipped the thumb turn, opening the door.
    “Carly? That you? Answer my phone, would you?”
    His footsteps stumped closer, his grunts of effort drifting down the stairs.
    “Hey,” he yelled. “Who’s down there?”
    We ran through the front door, leaving it standing open, and sprinted down the street. Hannah pulled ahead of me, leading the way to a vacant lot at the street’s end and cutting through it. We lunged into the woods, ignoring the branches tearing at us, and didn’t stop running until we dove into my car.
    “Go, go, go,” Hannah yelled, slapping her thighs for emphasis.
    “I can’t. They’ll notice us for sure if I go screeching out of here.” Trying to ignore Hannah bouncing in the seat next to me, I crept out of the lot and stayed with the speed limit all the way back out to the main road. Once I assured myself I heard no sirens and saw no flashing lights I turned to Hannah to make a joke about our close call. My words died a quick death. She sat with her elbow wedged against the passenger window and her forehead resting on the palm of her hand. I asked, “You all right?”
    “The books were there, Peri Jean. I swear to you.” She squinted her eyes and shook her head.
    “I don’t doubt your word,” I said.
    “Those sons of bitches moved them. That’s why they didn’t bother to change the locks.” Hannah’s jaw moved like she was chewing on a big wad of gum.
    “We’ll figure something else out.” I pulled to the curb a block from the museum so Hannah could sneak back in without her gossipy helper seeing me.
    Hannah got out.
    “See you at the barbecue tonight?” I leaned over the seat.
    “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She got out and walked down the block, head swiveling around to as though she still feared getting caught red-handed.
    I could have kicked myself for the whole fracas. We didn’t find a damn thing and could have ended up in jail over it. The likelihood of me having to contact the thieving ghost had just grown exponentially.
    I dragged the recesses of my mind for ideas on how to connect a living person to the crime without resorting to what Dean called my woo-woo talents. Half the town and hundreds of treasure hunters would have given their left nipple for the stolen items. Which brought me back to Joey Holze and his fancy house.
    The house Hannah and I illegally entered earlier was a year old and on a tiny subdivision lot. There hadn’t even been a storage building in the backyard. Where else could Joey have hidden the stuff Hannah saw on Memorial Day? The possibilities were limitless. He’d had nearly three months since Hannah stumbled upon his stash to pick the perfect hiding place. My first guess was public storage, but I saw no way to locate his rental.
    Gaslight City had a population of two thousand or so, plenty of residents to justify the three