Page 99 of The Haunting of Paynes Hollow
“Okay, what if one of your ancestors pulled a prank using Dutch folklore? Or someone who hated your ancestors wrote this to accuse them of witchcraft? When were the Salem witch trials?”
“Late seventeenth century. Before the Paynes arrived in America.”
Ben shakes his head. “I understand where you’re going, Josie, but logically, it doesn’t make sense.”
She flushes, but he doesn’t seem to notice. I glare at him—wasn’t he the one worried about embarrassing her?
He continues, “What Sam and I saw last night seems to be explained by the book. That only works as a setup if the book is new.How would someone stage last night based on a book they couldn’t have read?”
“Because maybe theydidread it,” she says. “Read it, put it back, and staged it.”
“And then we would just find it today?”
“But you didn’t ‘just happen’ to find it today, Ben. You found it a while ago. I’m not saying you set this up—”
“No,” he says. “Sam needs to work through all the possibilities, and that one actually makes sense. I find this book, which gives me the idea for the staging. Not sure how I’d afford something that elaborate, but forget that part. What do I stand to gain by scaring Sam off?”
“Revenge,” she says simply.
“Because her dad killed my brother. That has nothing to do with Sam, but okay, sure, let’s roll with that.” He turns to me. “You need to explore that possibility, Sam. Don’t ignore it because you feel bad suspecting me. But also… are we still sure your dad killed Austin?”
I jerk back. Of course I’ve been thinking it. But if I start down that road, aren’t I as deluded and desperate as my grandfather? My therapist kept me from even peeking in that direction.
Accept what he did.
Deal with what he did.
When I don’t answer, Ben’s voice drops. “I didn’t connect the dots when I read the book, but after last night? You said you don’t want to fight with me. Why is that?”
I glance toward the window. An image flashes back, my hand bleeding at the gate, blood seeping into the ground, the memory of my hand bleeding in the forest when I was young and I couldn’t remember how I cut it.
“Because you saw the truth before reading this book,” he says. “You sensed the connection, and now this book confirmed it. Someone—your grandfather, I presume—bonded you to these creatures. They protect you. You argued with your aunt. Was there any physical violence?”
“She grabbed me, and I fell,” I whisper.
“And then that camper fought with us and pushed you down.” Hetaps the book. “Physical violence against the bonded one brings the horseman, even if the one committing the violence is another Payne.”
I squeeze my hands into fists. Josie reaches over to lay her fingers on my arm.
Ben continues, “Your aunt didn’t know. She was raised in a family where you didn’t discipline kids with corporal punishment, which is normal enough. It’s probably what your mom was told, too. Not that she’d have spanked you otherwise, but it’d have been made very clear that wasn’t done in the Payne family.”
I look up, meeting his eyes. “You think my father knew.”
He pulls back, as if at the mention of my dad. “I don’t know. But I’m guessing there’s a reason he might be really quick to bury a kid he found dead on the property.” He looks at me. “Do you know how Austin died?”
I shake my head. I’d never wanted to know.
“I was told he’d been beaten,” Ben says. “Badly beaten, with broken bones. You know what that also sounds like?” He taps the book. “Trampled by a horse. Like the camper on the beach.”
“So what are you saying?” I ask. “That the horseman killed Austin when he disappeared, and then my dad found the body, knew what happened, and buried him. Only I caught him and he panicked and…”
“Shot himself,” Josie whispers. “Oh, Sam.”
I straighten fast. “We don’t know that’s what happened.”
“But it fits,” Ben says. “Your dad came to my house and told my parents that Austin wasn’t welcome on your property.”
“Protecting him,” Josie says. “Your dad knew what would have happened.” She looks at me. “Austin hurt you, didn’t he? He must have, for the horseman to go after him.”
