Page 44 of The Haunting of Paynes Hollow
“I saw that hole, Sam. No one could get in there. I also saw how the door latches. There’s no way someone got inside and re-closed it.”
“Then I was imagining seeing a person,” I say coldly as I rise from the bed. “I don’t think I was, but does it even matter? I didn’t call the sheriff for that.”
“Where were you last night?”
I blink. “Last night?”
“When I woke up. You seemed as if you’d just come in.”
“Because I did. I saw the lights again.”
“The lights…”
Her low murmur raises my hackles, and I snap, “Yes, the lights in the lake that you didn’t see earlier that evening. More proof that I’m stressed? Who knows. But I didn’t freak out over someone in the shed. I presumed it was a squatter. I didn’t freak out over the lights. I’m guessing they’re something bioluminescent. If I am imagining them?” I shake my head. “What does it matter? I apologize if I spooked you by saying I saw someone in the shed. That was not my intention.”
“You were looking for the hatchet.”
“When I went to the shed the other day? Yes.”
“I mean just now. You were looking for the hatchet. That’s what you said when you came in.”
Once again, I need to pause as I mentally shift again, following her back to the top of the circle. “Uh, yeah. Have you seen it?”
“It’s in the shed.”
“Oh? Ah. You used it and put it away properly. Thank you.”
“I didn’t put it there, Sam.”
I frown. Then my stomach clenches as the answer hits. “You think whoever cut up that fox used our hatchet? Then they put it in the shed.” I pause. “But the shed’s locked. No, Ben must have left it open.”
Gail gets up and walks to the door. When she leaves, I hurry after her. She continues to the front door and walks through. I hesitate, confused, and then follow.
“Gail?” I say.
“The hatchet,” she says. “I think you need to see it.”
“Okay.”
She’s moving fast, even in bare feet, and as I jog after her, sticks bite into my soles and a voice whispers that something is wrong.
Something’s wrong with Gail, and I should not be following her to the shed.
I keep going back to that conversation on the bed, the strangeness of it. Now I’m jogging after her in my bare feet, which is normal for me, but Gail is the sort who wears her flip-flops to the beach.
When she reaches the shed, she lifts the lock. “This is how I found it.”
“Locked. Okay.”
She takes out her keys and opens it. Then we go inside. She instinctively flicks the light switch, only to mutter in frustration when she remembers it doesn’t work.
“Do you want me to run and grab—” I begin.
She walks inside before I can finish. I wedge the door open and follow. She marches to a corner, takes out her phone, and shines the light on the hatchet, propped against the wall.
“Okay, that’s the hatchet,” I say. “Is the point that I forgot I put it in here? Because I didn’t. Ben has a key, too. If he found it lying around,he could have realized that’s not very safe when we’re concerned about a trespasser.”
“Take a closer look, Sam.” Her voice is tight and strange.
