Page 117 of The Haunting of Paynes Hollow
“You can’t leave the property,” he says.
“Why? Because I need money for the mother who caused all this? Who woke the nekkers, bound me to them, and ordered Smits to murder my father? Branded my father a child killer?” I snort, bitterness raw. “I don’t need the money now, do I?”
“Just don’t leave—”
My voice sharpens. “I am not staying here. Not risking anyone else dying for what my mother did.”
“I don’t mean that, Sam. The police will insist you go to the station for a statement. Let them be the ones who make you leave.” He meets my eyes. “Trust me. I’m a lawyer.”
That makes me laugh, and I shake my head, but I agree and place the call.
Ben was right. The state police don’t arrest me, but they do need me to go with them, both to make a statement and to have my hands and clothing tested for gunpowder residue. They take Ben to the hospital and perform the same tests. Both of us are clean.
They find the gun near Josie’s body, where Smits left it. Only her prints and his are on it, and footprints in the dirt confirm my story ofa struggle that turned tragic. After realizing he’d killed his daughter, Smits ran. Now he’s the subject of a manhunt.
As for why he drugged Ben, no one knows, but they find the injection mark, the tox screen shows he was sedated, and a crime-scene team locates the abandoned syringe where Ben said Smits attacked him.
As soon as I can, I contact Ms. Jimenez and explain using the version we gave the police. I tell her I was taken in for questioning, and I’m not allowed back on the property—it’s the scene of a crime and a manhunt.
She tells me I must obey the police, and that no one can hold that against me. Moreover, with Smits last seen on the property, she is personally advising me to stay off it. My life is in danger, which fulfills the exception.
Do I imagine relief in her voice as she says that? I remind myself that the lawyer was never my enemy here. She was doing her job, as uncomfortable as it was.
I’m struggling with the fact that my grandfather was right about my dad. He knew about the affair between my mom and Smits, but if he thought Smits killed Dad, he’d have said so. No, in the end, I need to accept that Douglas Payne had no secret knowledge. That I didn’t fail my father bynotbelieving in him.
What was it Ben said?He’s allowed to be right. Doesn’t make him less of an asshole.
My grandfather didn’t send me to Paynes Hollow to “remember.” Not really. He sent me there to torment me under the guise of helping me remember, and in the end, I had nothingtoremember. But my grandfather still got his wish, in a way that I can only hope would horrify him. I will forever be haunted by what happened this summer at Paynes Hollow. By the terrible death of Gail, my aunt, his daughter.
Ben and I have spent the last two nights in a motel between Paynes Hollow and Syracuse. I have no place to return to and, as he says, he’s “sure as hell” not going back to his apartment over his parents’ garage.
Wherever we go, there will be questions, so we are holed up, recovering. We started with separate rooms, but after I woke up screaming—dreams of Josie being dragged into the lake by her father—we opted for one room and two beds. After what we’ve been through, I don’t want to be alone, and I don’t think Ben does either.
On the third day, I return from grabbing lunch to find him dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt, showered, his beard and hair trimmed. My gut clenches, seeing it as a sign he’s leaving.
“Eat up and clean up,” he says. “We’re going to see Ms. Jimenez. Sign some papers to get you that inheritance.”
I stand there, holding the takeout bags. “But they still need me to go back and finish the month. Which I won’t do.”
“You don’t need to,” he says. “I’ve combed through all the paperwork, talked to Ms. Jimenez, and showed her the interpretation she needed to let you skip it. Permanently.”
I blink at him. “You showedher?”
He exhales, as if I’m making this very difficult, as he lowers himself onto the end of his bed. “I said I took a few law courses. That may have been… an understatement. I went to law school. Undergrad and then law, passed the bar a few years ago. Partly online but—” He shrugs. “My caretaking job takes a few hours a week and no one gives a shit if I vanish for a half day here and there.”
“So you’re… actually a lawyer? You weren’t kidding about that?”
He blows out a long breath. “No, I wasn’t kidding. I just… I don’t practice. I mostly got it to prove I could. Just me being a contrary son of a bitch. Only thing I used it for was helping locals who got in trouble with Smits and couldn’t afford counsel.”
“So Smits knew you were a lawyer? Who only used his degree to thwart him?” My lips twitch. “No wonder he hated you.”
“One of many reasons, but since I wasn’t open about having done more than ‘take a few courses,’ Smits sure as hell wasn’t telling anyone the truth. Would have made it hard to call me a lazy good-for-nothing if others knew I was a lawyer. Butheknew. Which was enough for me.”
“So what are you going to do now? Practice for real?”
“Dunno. You gonna go to med school?”
“Dunno.”
