The 8-cylinder engine of the 1970 Plymouth Barracuda hummed as the jet black vehicle cut a swath down the lonely highway. Behind the wheel, Logan Adler turned his gaze from the road to give his younger brother Jacob "the look".
"You're doing it again," he said, peering through his Oakley sunglasses.
"Doing what?" asked Jacob, not returning his brothers stare.
"The sulking. Every time we leave an investigation, you just sit there staring out the window, doing your little pouty thing. Just like when you were a kid."
"I'm not sulking, Logan," Jacob said turning to look at his older sibling. "It's just..."
"Aw geez, this again? C'mon, how was I supposed to know the noises people were hearing in that old house was a bunch of tweakers squatting upstairs? You heard them. They did sound pretty horrible."
"Yeah, but they weren't ghosts, were they?" asked Jacob.
"No, but we helped the cops clear them out," defended his brother.