really took taciturn to a whole new level. Maybe I’d just spent too much time around reporters and journalists. None of them ever stopped talking, or asking questions.
Tyler didn’t bother to lock his truck, although I noticed that he’d locked the sheriff’s car, which was probably smart. He walked straight to my car, and waited for me to pop the trunk. As soon as the trunk was open, he lifted both of my suitcases.
I stood back and watched the muscles in his biceps flex.
“I’ve got to get back to work,” he said.
I gave him what I hoped was a confident smile. “I'll get started on the house.”
He nodded and then he was gone.
Inside the house I sat down at his kitchen table. I'd forgotten to ask him about connecting to the Wi-Fi, so I pulled out my laptop and used my phone as a hotspot. Cleaning a house couldn't be too hard, but I had no idea what to do. I’d never cleaned anything in my life, certainly not an entire house.
I typed ‘best methods for house cleaning’ in the search box. Thousands of hits popped up. There were videos, blogs, articles and books. This appeared to be a pretty popular question online. I clicked on the first link that was written by a professional house cleaner.
‘Gather your supplies,’ was the advice that article gave. I found the vacuum under the stairs. There was also a broom and a dustpan. I looked in a laundry room, but only found laundry detergent. Under the sink, I found cleaners labeled wood polish, and another kind of spray that said it could be used on glass and granite. In the pantry, I found paper towels and a stack of washcloths.
The article also said, ‘clean from top to bottom.’
I put everything in a pile on the floor. I eyed the sink. The article didn’t mention a pile of dishes as part of the equation, but Tyler said those were a priority.
After quickly skimming a how-to guide on loading a dishwasher, I figured I’d start there. My mother had always insisted that her crystal be hand washed, but I somehow doubted Tyler was that picky. He also didn’t seem to have any crystal; most of his dishes were plastic, with the exception of some fancier dishes stored in a china cabinet. The plates were easy, but the cups kept bumping into each other, and none of them were the same size. I had the impulse to go buy him a new set of dishes to streamline the process of loading the dishwasher, but dismissed the idea.
Tyler said I didn’t have to cook, but if I was going to be living here rent-free, then I needed to do more than scrub the sink to earn my keep.
Finally, after several attempts, I had the dishwasher loaded, and I was able to close it. I found one of the tablets and popped it into the dispenser and pressed ‘start.’
Next I was going to sanitize the sink and countertops.
The silence in the house was deafening, to the point of being distracting. I considered playing some music from my phone, but ultimately I chose a cleaning video that claimed to provide motivation for reluctant cleaners. I wouldn't say I was exactly reluctant, but I definitely needed a tutorial.
After a few minutes, my mind wandered. Maybe I could find a story to concentrate on while I hid out in Pine Hills. I was going to steer clear of exposes for the time being. But maybe Tyler wouldn’t mind a feature written up about the role he played in the town as sheriff. He’d said he worked all the time, so maybe he’d be willing to be interviewed.
I laughed to myself. I seriously doubted it. I’d only known him for half a day, and I could tell an interview would be the last thing he’d agree to. Maybe the friendly librarian would be willing. Even if she wasn’t, I owed her a thank you for getting me this job.
Ava, snooping around town is what got you chased out of Chicago.
I didn’t regret it though. I’d gathered a lot of information. When I felt like it was safe, I was going to hand it over the FBI. Maybe they’d be able to use some of it.
Maybe once I learned to cook, I’d bake the librarian some cookies as a thank you gift.
Chapter Eight
Tyler
Having Ava living in my house was… interesting. She was quiet, and she seemed to be very observant.
She put my stuff