Page 23 of The Haunting of Paynes Hollow
“Oh God.” Gail slaps both hands to her face. “Go! Quickly!”
I shake my head, step out on the front porch, and stop.
There’s something on the steps. Something red and pink and brown.
“Hey!” Gail calls as I start forward. “Shut the door!”
I keep walking, my gaze fixed on that lump. Flesh. That’s what I’m seeing. Fur and flesh and bone.
“Hey!” Gail says behind me. Then, “What the hell?”
I don’t know what it is. A dead animal. That’s for sure. But it’s not… Something about it…
What the hell am I seeing?
I stop short. There’s a head. A rabbit head. Staring at me. But it’s…
I struggle to process. All the parts are there—a head, legs, a body—but it’s not making sense. Then I see why. The rabbit has been ripped apart, every limb and the head torn off, but then…
The torso is splayed on its back, belly ripped open, organs arranged around it. The legs all protrude from inside that open chest cavity,paws sticking up. And in the middle is the head, perched there, staring at me with empty eye cavities.
My mind rockets into the past, to a squirrel, carved up and left for me—
I let out a small whimper, arms wrapping around myself as I shake.
A noise sounds behind me. I don’t even need to look to see what it is.
My aunt, retching her coffee onto the porch.
Eight
I make the call to Sheriff Smits. Gail is in shock, sitting on the sofa, her legs drawn up. When she realizes I’m on the telephone, she says, “I can do that,” but I pretend not to see her. I need to do this.
I can’t let her see how that dead rabbit affected me. I’m shaking inside, a quivering, sobbing little girl who just found a squirrel in pieces and knows she can’t tell anyone, knows she needs to bury it before anyone thinks she would do such a thing. Everyone knew she liked poking around dead things.
I could tell Gail what happened all those years ago, but what good would it do? She’d only be more determined to get me off this property, and it’s not as if the same person can be responsible. I need to shush that terrified child and deal with it.
I don’t even speak to Sheriff Smits. It’s an answering machine—an actual old-fashioned machine.
“Sheriff Smits,” I say. “It’s Sam Payne, up at the Payne place. We arrived last night. Someone… left something on my front steps. A prank, I think, but it’s a mutilated animal, so I wanted to report it. I also think someone might be living in our shed. The two could be connected, of course. If you get a chance, could you swing by? My aunt and I would appreciate it.” I leave my phone number. Then I hang up.
Sheriff Smits arrives just over an hour later. I meet him at the parking pullout before the road reaches our cottage. Gail has a video-chat appointment, and honestly, I’m relieved to be doing this on my own. Yesterday with Ben proved that she’s too ready to jump to my defense. I don’t want the locals of Paynes Hollow thinking I need protection from them.
“Sheriff,” I say as I walk over, hand out. “Good to see you again.”
He shakes my hand. “I heard about your grandfather’s will. Hell of a thing. You and your mom deserve this place.”
“Thank you. I intend to get it. For both of us.”
“Good.”
He starts to say something else, but then someone climbs out of the passenger side.
“You met my daughter, Josie,” Smits says.
“That’s Deputy Josie,” she says with a smirk, tipping her wide-brimmed hat. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
Her father rolls his eyes affectionately. “She likes to act as if she’s just helping her old man out, and didn’t spend four years taking criminology in college.”
