Page 51 of The Haunting of Paynes Hollow
I pull back. “No, you don’t understand. There are footprints. Hers. Then drag marks.” I turn and run toward the beach. “I can show you.”
He follows, and I run until I reach the first prints, and then put out a hand to stop him.
“They start here,” I say. “She’s wearing her flip-flops. You can see how she’s walking, just strolling along.”
“Okay…”
I’m well aware of how I sound, like a kid playing detective, but I can’t stop myself. I need him to understand.
“Then here.” I point. “She stops and seems to start running toward the cottage, but something happens. See it there? The scuffle of footprints?”
“Okay…”
“Then over here. These lines in the sand. They’re like drag marks, right?”
He walks alongside them and says nothing, just crouches for a better look.
“Here’s her last known location.” I hold out the phone. “Around one in the morning. It’s—it’s out on the water. I think she was walking along the beach and the undercurrent grabbed her. Or she saw a rogue wave and tried to run.”
“Rogue wave…”
My jaw sets. “They happen. My grandfather told us about one.”
“I’m not arguing, Sam. I’m working it through.”
I look out at the lake. A hand squeezes my shoulder, and I glance up through teary eyes to see Sheriff Smits. He seems ready to pull me into a hug, but then settles for another awkward shoulder squeeze.
“You don’t think that’s what happened,” I say.
“I’m really hoping it’s not. Can I see that locator again?”
I pass him my cell. “The blue dot is my phone. The icon is Gail’s. It shows the time and location of the last ping.”
He examines it. Turns toward her icon, holding the phone up and walking toward the water.
“GPS isn’t very accurate out here,” he says.
“I know, and I could be misinterpreting everything, but that doesn’t explain where she is.” I wave at the forest. “She hasn’t come out to even stroll along the beach since we arrived. She never walked thetrails alone when we were young. Gail isn’t outdoorsy. At all. I can’t imagine her being struck by the urge for a moonlit stroll.”
“You said she has a gun.”
I pause, taking a moment to process the segue.
He continues, “What if she saw your trespasser and took the gun outside to talk to him? I certainly hope not—for her sake—but do you know where she keeps it?”
I take him inside. As I do, I point out the empty mat where she keeps her flip-flops and then I show him her keys on the counter, which I now see do include the cottage and shed keys. We go into her room, and I pull the gun case from under her bed. It’s closed and locked. I have the combination, so I use it and open the box to reveal the gun.
Smits looks around the room. Then he heads into the main area and looks around some more. “You said the screen door was banging?”
I nod as I join him. “In the wind this morning.”
“So she went out, expecting she wouldn’t be gone for long. Probably around midnight. Any idea why?”
“I…” I swallow. “We had a bit of a fight last night.”
His eyes narrow. “A bit of a fight?”
“An argument.”
