Ghost Canyon (The John Decker Supernatural Thriller Series Book 7) by Anthony Strong (ebooks that read to you .TXT) 📕

When they approached Robyn, Tieg jumped up and ran to greet them, tail wagging. The dog was, Robyn thought, a better ambassador for the ghost town than Carlton, and certainly more friendly.

One of the Feds, the younger of the two, kneeled and petted the dog, rubbing his head and scratching behind his ears. Tieg grinned and his tongue lolled out.

The other agent only gave the dog a cursory glance and then spoke to Robyn. “I’m Special Agent Elton Fowler with the FBI’s Las Vegas field office. My partner over there, the one practicing his interrogation techniques on your dog, is Special Agent Jackson Barnes.”

“Hello, Special Agent Fowler,” Robyn said. She was sitting at a table near the bar and motioned to an empty seat. “Won’t you sit down?”

“No, thank you.” Fowler shook his head. “I prefer to stand.”

“Okay.” Robyn resisted the urge to stand up, even though she was uncomfortable with the agent standing over her in such close proximity. She wondered if he really wanted to remain standing, or if it was a way to assert his authority. She’d once read an article about the CEO of a large corporation wanting an office chair that raised higher than the other chairs in the room so that it would force his employees to look up to him, which would instill in them a feeling of subservience. Was Agent Fowler doing the same thing, possibly subconsciously, or did he just dislike being comfortable? “Is there something I can help you with, Agent Fowler?”

“Yes, indeed.” The FBI agent reached up and straightened his collar, even though it wasn’t out of place. “As I understand it, you have rooms available.”

“I do have rooms, yes, but we’re not open yet. We probably won’t be accepting reservations until the spring.”

The other agent had finished playing with the dog. He stood and approached them. Fowler waited for his partner before speaking again. “But you do have renovated rooms that will be suitable for habitation.”

Habitation? Robyn thought. It was an odd turn of phrase. Even so, she nodded. “We’ve finished the renovations on most of the second floor. Why?”

“Excellent. Agent Barnes and I would like to procure two such rooms for our use while we investigate. Unless you object, of course, in which case we shall make alternate arrangements.”

“No, it’s fine.” Robyn wasn’t sure what to think, but she had to admit, having a couple of armed FBI agents on the property after what had occurred today would not be the worst thing in the world. “I can put fresh sheets on the beds. I have to warn you though, it still smells of paint up there.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Fowler said. “And of course, the FBI will reimburse you for the nights we’re here.”

“Also, as I’m sure you can see, the bar and restaurant are not yet open, but we have plenty of food and I’m more than happy to whip up meals should you require them. It will give us a chance to practice before we open to the public. Kind of like a dry run.”

“In that case we will take you up on that offer,” Fowler replied.

Robyn nodded. She stood up and called to Tieg. “I’ll take care of those sheets right now. There’s a bottle of whiskey on the bar if you’d like a drink.”

“Thank you, but not while we’re on duty.” Fowler paused, then spoke again. “And if it’s not too much trouble, maybe you could make up a third room, too.”

“Another FBI agent?” Robyn asked over her shoulder as she headed toward the door with the dog at her heels.

“Not quite,” Fowler said. “The situation here is rather unique, so my superiors called in a favor. We have a specialist on the way. Someone who’s dealt with this kind of thing before.”

Chapter Thirteen

Decker’s accommodation was a well-appointed room on the third floor of the mansion overlooking the bay. This space, unlike the one Grendel was being kept in many levels below, could legitimately be called a suite. Decker didn’t know how many people worked at the facility, but he estimated there were at least fifty rooms if you counted both the mansion and a newer wing on the east side of the property.

After a light supper in the canteen, he retreated upstairs and called Nancy. It was late, almost 11 o’clock, but they talked for an hour. Taylor was not far down the coast, attending college in Boston, and Nancy had toyed with the idea of traveling up with Decker and visiting her daughter while he continued on to Maine. But the plan had not come to fruition. Taylor hadn’t been in school long, and they decided to give her some space since Christmas was less than two months away and she would be returning home for the holidays. Even so, Decker sensed a tinge of sadness in her voice, and he wondered if she regretted not making the arrangements. Nancy had been struggling to readjust ever since the events in Wolf Haven, and Decker felt helpless to resolve the situation. When she hung up, he climbed in bed and lay there for a long while, thinking.

He awoke next morning and made his way to the cafeteria. Colum was already there, sitting alone and digging into a hearty plate of bacon and eggs. A travel bag sat on the floor next to him.

Decker went to the buffet and helped himself to a ham steak, hash browns, fried eggs, and chunks of honeydew melon, which he figured offset the dubious choices he’d made with the rest of his breakfast. He placed the plate on the tray and then poured a coffee before making his way back through the cafeteria toward his colleague.

“Mind if I join you?” Decker asked as he drew close to the table.

“I’m almost done here,” Colum replied, looking up briefly from his food. “But I’ll take the company.”

“What time’s your flight?” Decker placed the tray on the table and pulled out a