Page 66 of The Haunting of Paynes Hollow
“I do not want to take you to the hospital,” he says. “Youdo not want that either. But I will do what I have to do. Now drink it or—”
I slam the shot. It burns, and I gasp, tears spilling out as I cough.
He thumps me on the back. “Just breathe.”
I do, and as my heart rate slows, I start to shake, part from cold and part from shame.
“Sleepwalking,” I slur. “I used to do that.”
“Okay. Good. Well, not good, but at least you have an explanation.”
I nod.
“Yes, you came to get me,” he continues. “By the time I got outside, you were gone, and I thought I imagined it. I went back in, and then I heard…” He throws up his hands. “You in the water, I guess. Splashing.”
“And you didn’t see anything else?”
I expect a quick answer, and when I don’t get one, I look over sharply.
“I… saw a shape,” he says. “Something in the water. A dead treemaybe? That must be what you saw, too. Because you weren’t completely awake, you mistook it for your aunt.”
I nod. “That makes sense. I must be partly conscious when I sleepwalk, or I’d be running into walls and trees.” Still holding the empty glass, I pull my legs in and take deep breaths. “Okay. I was only partly awake. I woke up hearing hoofbeats.” I glance at him. “I used to do that when I was a kid.”
The corner of his mouth quirks. “Your grandfather’s Sleepy Hollow stories. I heard about that—he insisted the story was inspired by Washington Irving’s trip to Paynes Hollow.”
“Yes, so I’d imagine hearing a headless horseman, which is why I thought I saw—” I stop, the shivers starting again, and I force past that image of the dead horse and rider. “I dreamed of one, and I thought it was my cousin, Caleb, trying to spook me. I thought he was behind all this.” I pause. “He might actually be. That’s another story. But I was half awake and half dreaming. That’s why I saw that drowned horse and my… my aunt.”
I pull my feet in. Ben finds a throw and lays it over my legs, which are bare. I arrange the blanket and focus on tucking it down.
“I remember Caleb.” Ben sits on the chair opposite me. “He’s about my age, right?”
I nod.
“Does he inherit if you don’t?”
I shake my head. “He gets a share of the house and estate. A third, with my uncle and…” I swallow. “Gail. But Caleb’s not in line for this property and he’s upset, obviously. Furious. Is he angry enough to drive me off? Just to be sure I don’t win the inheritance jackpot? Maybe. But when I went out, I was even thinking he might have kidnapped Gail to make me leave, which proves I was not in my right mind.”
Ben shrugs. “I remember Caleb. My parents made me show him around town once, when I was fifteen. He was an asshole. Tried to score with a couple of older local girls by playing Big Man in Town. Telling them how he was a Payne and the only grandson, and he’d inherit it all.” Ben rolls his eyes. “The girls were not impressed.” He stretches his legs. “Point is, I could imagine him lurking in the shed,cutting up dead animals, maybe even luring you out by faking hoofbeats. Not sure about kidnapping your aunt, but I wouldn’t rule it out. Do you know where he is now?”
“He lives in New York City, but we don’t keep in touch. I don’t even have his email. Oh, and there were also hoofprints…” I trail off. “No, that would be part of the dream, right?” I reach for my phone. “One way to find out. I took photos—or imagined I did.”
I look around. “My phone?” I start getting up. “Where’s—?”
Ben puts out his hand to stop me and rises to retrieve it. “You were clutching that in one hand and a badass flashlight in the other. I made sure they both came back with you.”
He hands me the phone, and my eyes well as I look up at him. “Thank you. For everything.”
It’s the wrong thing to say, but I have to. Otherwise, I’m the ungrateful bitch treating him like an employee who’d damned well better do his job. Treating him like my grandfather did. Like Sheriff Smits does.
As expected, his face screws up, sloughing off the gratitude. “I’m just protecting my ass. If you walk into the lake, I lose my ticket out of here. And Smits would probably find a way to charge me for murder.”
I unlock my phone, but when I try to hit buttons, my fingers are still numb. I blow into one hand and pass over the phone. “Can you check? Last photo. It’s either a hoofprint in the sand or Josie stuffing a whole tart into her mouth.”
He shakes his head and takes it. “Glad to see you two getting along. She needs that. It’s tough for her, being the last one left.”
“Uh, you’re still here.”
“I mean she’s the lastkidleft.” He catches my eye and sighs, “Yes, I know she’s not actually a kid, but she’s still young, lives at home, all her friends gone. Last photo is…” He blinks down at the camera. “What the hell?”
