Page 22 of The Haunting of Paynes Hollow
“Do not open the window,” Gail says, by way of greeting, as I walk into the kitchen the next morning, drawn by the smell of coffee.
“Still stinks out there?”
Her brows rise.
I yawn and take a mug from the cupboard. “I got up last night and made the mistake of opening a window for a little air. Something’s dead outside. I’ll clean it up.”
“Isn’t that a job for the caretaker?”
“Nah, I’ve got it.” I pour a coffee from the pot. “We might need to do something about the headless horseman, though.”
Another brow lift.
I add cream and sugar to my coffee before saying, “I heard him last night.”
A moment’s pause, and then she bursts out laughing. “I remember you hearing him every summer, and it was adorable. Oh! There was that one time when you talked me into staying up half the night listening for him.”
“And you heard him, too.”
“Uh, yeah… About that…”
“You were humoring me, weren’t you?”
“Well, no. Not exactly.” She leans against the counter. “Remember all those times you said I smelled like skunk? It wasn’t skunk.”
“You smoked weed as a teen? I amshocked.” I stir my coffee. “It does explain the smell, though. I was seriously worried for your hygiene. Or the possibility of an illicit relationship with a skunk.”
She throws a pot holder at me.
“As for the hoofbeats,” I say, “I woke up thinking I heard them and then nearly laughed loud enough to wake you. I was a weird kid.”
“You were adorable. Still are.”
“You’re just saying that because I offered to clean up a rotting animal.”
She raises her mug, and I clink mine against it.
“I know you don’t do breakfast,” I say, “but I will be cooking eggs. Right after I clean up that mess.”
“You do know that most people would put that off untilafterthey ate?”
“It’s better to do it on an empty stomach.”
She makes a face.
I gulp half my coffee and set the mug on the counter. “Step one, clean up the mess. Step two, make breakfast. Step three, work. And at some point this morning, I want to check out the shed.”
“Can I bring my gun?”
“If you promise not to point it at me.”
She gives me a thumbs-up as I pull on my boots. Then I grab a garbage bag.
“What about a spade?” she says. “That’d be in the shed, right?”
I pause. “Shit. Yes. So maybe we move up the shed investigation. Let me take a look at what we’re dealing with first. If it’s a small animal, the bag will be enough.”
I rifle through our open boxes until I find disposable gloves. I snap on a pair and swing open the front door.
