Whispers at Moonrise

down Blake.
    Looking up at the glass door and seeing Burnett staring back at them, she recalled some of their earlier conversation.
    “The FRU is not the enemy,” he’d insisted, when Kylie reminded him her grandfather had a reason to distrust Shadow Falls.
    “You’re not the enemy,” Kylie had said. “But I’m still not sure about the FRU. And while I know you don’t want to admit it, you wouldn’t have hidden my grandmother’s body and wouldn’t be keeping some facts from them if you completely trusted them.”
    Burnett hadn’t argued with that, but Kylie pointing it out hadn’t done much to improve his mood. He was obviously torn between his loyalty to Shadow Falls and his loyalty to the FRU. Not that Kylie worried. She trusted him. Getting her grandfather and aunt to trust him was another matter.
    Derek cleared his throat to get her attention. He wore his favorite jeans and dusty green T-shirt. “Did something happen?”
    “Not really,” Kylie whispered to Derek, slightly bothered by how close he leaned into her, brushing her shoulder with his. Or was she bothered by how aware of his touch she was? Pushing that thought aside, she reached for the glass door.
    But she got the craziest feeling that someone was watching her. She swung around, but Derek blocked her view of the street.
    “Is something wrong?” he asked.
    “No.” She still shifted to see around him. But the brief sensation she’d gotten was gone. Were her grandfather and aunt close by? She glanced all around, left and right. The old houses lining the street had been turned into gift shops, and an old red caboose now served as a concession stand. What she didn’t see was anyone peering back at her. No one. Nothing.
    So she turned back and walked inside the café packed with a chattering crowd.
    The smell of bacon flavored the air in the old house that served as a café. She didn’t find the smell the least bit tempting. The downside of being a vamp. The room held wall-to-wall tables, filled with hungry people who looked like vacationers. The sound of forks clinking against plates echoed with the voices.
    Only one table stood empty and Holiday led the way. A server came out of the back, carrying a tray of food that smelled like cinnamon rolls.
    “Is that the same uniform?” Derek asked as they sat down.
    “Yeah.” Kylie’s heart lightened with hope that this would lead them to the killer.
    Another waitress, Chris G., according to her name tag, stopped in front of their table.
    “You guys ready to order?” Before they spoke, she waved at another table. “One minute.”
    “Actually,” Burnett spoke up, “we’re here hoping to get some info on a Cara M., a waitress who—”
    “Oh.” She walked away.
    “Oh, what?” Burnett frowned as she took off. She stuck her head through the door and called out, “Hey, Cara, someone wants to talk to you.”
    Burnett, Holiday, and Derek all turned and looked at Kylie.
    “She can’t be alive,” Kylie said. “Trust me. She’s dead.”
    Then a pretty blond, with a name tag that read CARA M ., walked out of the back. “She looks alive to me,” Derek said. “And even kind of hot.” He blushed.

 
    Chapter Twenty-eight
    Kylie opened her mouth to speak, but didn’t have a clue what to say. Or do, for that matter.
    “Hi, Cara,” Derek spoke up, glancing at Burnett as if making sure it was okay to take the lead. Burnett nodded and Derek continued. “We wanted information on a Cara M.”
    She pointed to her name tag. “I’m Cara M. M for Muller.”
    Kylie studied the waitress’s face and tried to compare it to the spirit. It wasn’t her. Was it? Kylie played emergency recall in her memory but could only envision her long blond hair and blue eyes. Which this girl had, but …
    “I’m sorry,” Derek said. “We were under the impression that Cara M. no longer worked here.”
    “Well, I’m still here. Been here since I was fifteen, over two years. Why?”
    “Is there another Cara M. who worked here?” Kylie tried not to stare, but feeling desperate to discover the truth, she couldn’t stop herself.
    “No.” The girl looked at Kylie. “What’s this about?”
    Kylie noticed that the waitress’s name tag had come unpinned and barely clung on the uniform. “What happens if you lose your name tag?”
    Cara cut her eyes toward the back of the restaurant. “The manager has a freaking cow.”
    “And what would you do to prevent him from having a cow?” Kylie leaned