Page 3 of The Haunting of Paynes Hollow
“Then let’s move,” Josie says, and we head inside together.
The service lasts forever. Or that’s how it seems when I spend the whole time trying to keep a straight face as person after person says what a wonderful man my grandfather had been. I’d wondered whether my father’s existence would be glossed over. But Dad is there, especiallyin stories, where he comes to life as I remember him, and that’s when I do cry.
Do I notice people glancing my way, leaning in and whispering? Of course I do, because while my grandfather liked to forget what Dad did, no one else has. I will forever be Samantha Payne, the girl who caught her dad burying his victim.
Tragic figure worthy of pity?
Or a monster with savage blood running through her veins?
One can be both.
The service finally ends, and then it’s on to the cemetery for the burial. Gail manages to commandeer a separate town car, avoiding her brother and his family. At the graveside, we stand apart, and I retreat into my cocoon, where no one can see me, no one can judge me.
Sweat trickles down my face in the humid August sun. After the burial, my cousin, Caleb, plants himself in my escape route. His parents—Uncle Mark and Aunt Ellen—stand behind him.
I glance over my shoulder, but other mourners are talking to Gail, and she doesn’t notice the ambush.
“Couldn’t stay away, could you?” Caleb says. “You smelled money and swooped in.”
“No, I came to say goodbye,” I say evenly.
Caleb snorts. “You hated him. You blamed him for what your dad did, and you took it out on an old man who loved you, in spite of everything.”
In spite of the fact you were responsible for what happened.That’s what he means.
Dad’s the one who killed Austin, but I’m responsible for Dad’s death because I “tattled” to my mother, who was equally responsible because she took me straight to the police. To Sheriff Smits.
What’s that old saying?
A wife and daughter will help you move, but aproperwife and daughter will help you move a body.
“I’m sorry you think that,” I say, as placidly as I can, and I take my petty pleasure in seeing Caleb’s eyes burn with frustrated rage. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
“You have a reading of the will to get to?” he sneers.
I look him in the eyes. “No, I have a mother to visit.”
“What? You’re not coming to the reading?”
I arch a brow. “You just accused me of being here for the money, and now you’re offended that I’m not staying for the will?”
Caleb seems almost apoplectic now, his pasty face dangerously red. “You selfish littlebitch.”
“Caleb!” Aunt Ellen says, but her eyes gleam, secretly pleased.
“Wait a second,” I say. “So if I skip the reading,thatmakes me selfish?”
“Gail,” Uncle Mark says as my aunt hurries over. “We discussed this. You promised she’d be there.”
I slowly turn to Gail as Aunt Ellen says, “She needs to be there, Gail. The will can’t be read otherwise.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” I mutter the words under my breath, but Aunt Ellen still gasps, as if I shouted it at a funeral.
“I’m sorry,” Gail whispers to me. “I was going to tell you.” Then to the others, “I believe people want to express their condolences, and having us standing here whisper-hissing at each other does not look good.”
I clamp my mouth shut, and after a moment, the others back up and let us through.
Congrats, Gramps. You win. Again.
