Page 29 of The Haunting of Paynes Hollow
“I’m not. I agree. For now, while you go shopping, I’ll stay locked in the cottage with the windows shut and the curtains pulled. Worstcase?” I waggle my phone. “We have excellent cell service here. I’m not stranded in the middle of nowhere.”
She exhales. “Fine. I’ll go. But you’re staying inside.”
“Only if you promise to bring back s’more fixings and have a bonfire with me tonight.”
“Deal.”
Gail has been gone for almost an hour when a footfall hits the front steps. My head jerks up from my laptop. I didn’t hear her car drive in.
A floorboard on the deck creaks. I get up to go meet her, help with the groceries. Then I pause.
I promised to be safe. That means not rushing out when I can’t see through the window—the perils of having shut the curtains.
I wait for the sound of her key in the door. When it doesn’t come, my heart speeds up, and I pull out my phone to check my friend tracker. It spins for a second. Then I see her emoji at the gas station in Paynes Hollow.
I tilt my head. Had I really heard someone out there? A footfall and a creaking board aren’t exactly proof of life. I’d been working away, oblivious to my surroundings. Maybe I just heard a random noise.
A board creaks again.
Someone is there.
On the porch.Notknocking on the door. Just standing there.
I rise and creep toward the front window. I’m hoping to sneak a peek, but Gail pulled both the blind and the curtains. Making sure no one can see me alone inside also means I can’t see anyone on the porch.
Yet I can tell someone is there. A shadow darkens the blind, visible only from this close.
I swallow and back up to the kitchen, where I take a knife and wrap my fingers around the handle. Then I return to the window and ease the side of the curtain until I can see.
A man stands on my porch, with his back to me. All I can make out is what looks like a dark gray T-shirt. Then he turns, and I fall back, dropping the blind and banging into a chair.
“Samantha?” he calls.
I pause. “Ben?”
“Open the damn door. I don’t have all day.”
I have the door halfway open before realizing I’m still gripping the knife. I go to put it down… and then reconsider. Just because it’s Ben Vandergriff doesn’t mean it’s okay.
I think about the person in the shed. The dead rabbit. Intellectually, Ben Vandergriff makes an excellent suspect, and yet my gut says no. He doesn’t match the figure in the shed.
I tug open the door, and his gaze goes straight to the knife in my lowered hand. “I hope you’re not trying to cut vegetables holding it like that.”
“You ever think of knocking?”
“I did knock.” He leans toward the screen. “You know what I didn’t do, though? Leave the fucking shed open.”
I push the screen door, making him step back as I join him on the porch. “I never said you did.”
“Yeah? Tell that to Smits. Guy called to tear a strip out of me.”
I set the knife on the railing. “I never said you left it open. In fact, I told Josie that I didn’t think you did. I’m sorry if the sheriff called you. I’ll straighten that out.”
“Better yet, don’t be calling Smits when you get spooked. Taking care of this place is my job.”
My brows shoot up. “One, you never left me any contact information. Two, you made it clear what your duties are and that you don’t do more. Three, I did not ‘get spooked.’ There was someone in the shed—there’s still a footprint. I didn’t call the sheriff after that either. I called him after I found a dismembered rabbit stacked in front of the stairs.”
His face screws up. “What?”
