Page 27 of Liar Byrd
“But you had a sign up in the window.” It’s the only reason I wandered into the store. To ask about it.
“Nance probably stuck it up while my back was turned.” The man scowls at me. “No one would work with them. No one even wants to go up there, and good luck getting in the front door. Those rumors… well, I believe them.”
“What rumors?”
“Cold-blooded murder. As cold as I’ve ever heard.”
What?
While I’m distracted, the man snatches the paper from my hand, scrunches it up, and throws it in the trash.
“You seem like a nice girl. I’m doing you a favor. If you need a job, ask at the diner; they’ll hire you.”
“Thanks.” I smile and walk out of the grocery store, a bell ringing as the door closes behind me.
The diner is halfway down the street and within sight of the bus station. Way too dangerous if Jeremiah’s acolytes track me here.
He tossed the job advert, but it was too late. I saw the address.
The Gabriel Mansion.
Now, I just have to figure out where that is.
A blond woman is walking down the road, and she looks like she knows where she’s going.
“Excuse me.” I hurry after her.
She slows, her gaze lingering for a second too long on my forehead, making me wonder if I did a worse job than I thought with the hair dye. “Yeah?”
“I’m looking for the Gabriel Mansion.”
Her eyes flick to my left, and she turns and walks away, stepping into the diner.
I stare after her, frowning.
I could go after her, but she wasn’t interested in talking. And maybe it’s stupid to want to work in a mansion that the grocery store worker warned me not to, but I’m desperate. They’re paying five hundred dollars a month, and the last place Jeremiah’s acolytes would go looking for me is in some rich guy's mansion.
Recalling the woman’s glance to my left, I start walking, hoping I’m going in the right direction.
I walk down an endless line of trees on a silent road for forty minutes.
My stomach is grumbling, my forehead is slick with sweat from all this exertion, and I haven’t seen a soul for miles.
And then I see it.
A gravel path. A lonely stretch of earth, and at the end, tall black gates.
There can’t be too many mansions up here, can there?
I swallow the dread that forms in my gut and start walking down the side road.
“If it starts feeling like a horror film, then just leave,” I mutter to myself, silencing the tiny voice in my head that tells me it already feels like a horror film and has since the grocery store warning. But I’m desperate. I can’t afford to be choosy.
The front garden, visible through the black iron gates, looks untamed. A bit neglected, with overgrown shrubs and bushes, but not completely ignored.
I press the silver intercom button and I wait.
It crackles as a woman’s tinny voice rings out. “Yes?”
