Southern Haunts by Stuart Jaffe Page B

should be called? Grandma, Nanna, or Granny? No, not Granny.”
    Max had to endure for several more minutes before he could extricate himself from the phone call. Once he set aside his cell, he conjured a clear image of Sandra with a full belly of baby sticking out far. She beamed bright as she rubbed her stomach. Pregnancy would certainly look good on her.
    And me? he wondered. How am I going to handle all of this?
    After a moment of thought, and with the naive confidence every first time parent experiences before the baby actually arrives, he decided he could do it, no problem. He could be a father. He could handle that. It might require a few changes in their lives, but so what? If Sandra needed to have a child, he would be on board with the decision.
    He smirked as a new thought hit him — their child would have a unique upbringing. Uncle Drummond would be a part of the experience. No way would a child born from him and Sandra not be able to see ghosts. That would bring some challenges in dealing with other children, but Sandra had been through it herself. Surely, she would have a better idea of what to say and how to handle it all.
    Max shivered. Like his mother, he was planning for things that were far off — especially because Sandra was not pregnant. Not yet.
    She seemed to want to be, and Max now wanted it, too. As he exited the highway and navigated the few roads to the Darians’ house, he decided he would broach the subject the first time they were alone. Sandra needed to know she had his support.
    Parking the car, he felt some of his stress lifting away. Until he saw Wayne Darian pacing on the front lawn, muttering to himself, and twisting his bottom lip. The blood had drained from his face, and his eyes were wide and darting around.
    When he finally spied Max, he called out, “Please, you’ve got to help us.”

 
    Chapter 14
     
    Max sauntered across the street and onto the front lawn, knowing he had to deal with Wayne Darian and fed up with the day already. Wayne’s head flew to attention as he heard Max approach. He looked like a blind date who thought he had been stood up but suddenly saw a beautiful woman arrive.
    And I’m the woman, Max thought. Sheesh.
    “You okay there, Wayne?”
    A sheen of sweat covered Wayne’s body. “You’ve got to help me.”
    “That’s what we’re trying to do. You look a little agitated. Something happen?”
    With his middle finger, Wayne pointed back at his house with his arm extended so tight, the muscles vibrated. “That Libby woman came back and she’s inside there right now interviewing my Shawnee.”
    “That’s to be expected.”
    “Shawnee’s already been interviewed. How many more times does Libby have to ask the same questions? This isn’t a police interrogation for crying out loud. You people are supposed to be here to help us.”
    “I know it’s tough. But you understand why that happens? With the police, I mean. Do you understand why they ask the same thing over and over?”
    “Because they’re trying to trip you up. Catch you in a lie. But we’re not lying.”
    Max made sure to speak slow and calm. Anything to temper Wayne’s frazzled mind. “That’s true when they interrogate a suspect. But sometimes they’re asking questions of a witness, of somebody who saw a crime happen. And when they do that, if given the chance, they’ll ask the same questions over and over because when you experience something intense, it can take several times before you really can recall everything. Libby’s in there hoping to get some new piece of information that Shawnee had previously not remembered. That’s all.”
    “Well, maybe. But I’m telling you, for all the talking you people do, nothing’s getting better around this place.”
    “I know. I wish we could clear this all up much faster.”
    Wayne’s chin quaked. “It’s not fair. All we’re trying to do is have a good life down here. We didn’t ask for any of this.”
    Max wondered how long