Page 56 of The Haunting of Paynes Hollow
“I mean Sam,” Ben says. “No one’s going to expect her to stay after this.” He looks at me. “Right?”
“I… I have no idea. I presume I need to stay—”
“When your aunt has disappeared? With a trespasser on the property?”
“We aren’t considering that a likely scenario,” Smits says.
“Why not?” Ben says. “Sam reported seeing a stranger. Her aunt disappeared with the front door left wide open.” He waves it off.“Fine. I’ll call the lawyer. I’m sure this means Sam can go home and still collect her inheritance.”
As he makes that call, my heart thuds. Part of me would love to hear that it’s over. But part of me panics at the thought of leaving while Gail is missing. It would feel like abandoning her.
I withdraw into my thoughts and tune out Ben’s phone call. After a few minutes, Josie says, “Sam?,” and I look over to see everyone waiting for me.
“I’m putting Ms. Jimenez on speaker,” Ben says. “Just so no one thinks I’m making shit up.”
His voice is as empty as his expression, but his eyes are dark with anger. Is the lawyer saying I’m done? That I get my inheritance without—in Ben’s opinion—earning it?
“Ben has explained the situation to me,” Ms. Jimenez says over the speaker. “Sam, I am so sorry to hear about your aunt, and I am truly hoping it is a misunderstanding and she’s simply wandered off. But, with Sheriff Smits involved, I understand that the authorities consider it a disappearance and that you wish to know how this affects your situation.”
“Sam didn’t ask,” Ben says. “I did.”
“Be that as it may, the answer, I’m afraid, is no. You must remain there for the full month. The only exception comes if you yourself are in dang—”
Ms. Jimenez cuts herself short with a throat clearing. “As I said, anything that happens to your aunt would not change the will. However, were she to be found in need of medical care, obviously you would be able to get that. If you must leave the property for a length of time, for anything that falls within a set of criteria—such as you or a family member requiring urgent medical attention—you may do so and make up the time at a doubled rate.”
“You mean for every day Sam’s gone, she has to spend two more days here,” Josie says.
“Yes. And the situation must be fully verifiable.”
“Back up,” Ben says. “You started to say that there’s an exception if Sam herself is in danger.”
A pause long enough that he leans over to check the phone. “Ms. Jimenez?”
“Yes.”
“Would you please elaborate on that?” Ben’s voice takes on a tone I haven’t heard. Gone is the irritation and the sullen I-don’t-give-a-shit. It’s crisp, focused, professional.
“No,” she says.
“I need you to elaborate, Ms. Jimenez,” he says. “Under exactly what circumstances—”
“They are complicated, and I do not wish to risk misunderstanding.”
“So send me a copy. I’m sure I can figure it out. I know a little legalese.”
Sheriff Smits makes a noise that I can’t decipher. Mockery, I’m sure.
“I cannot do that, Mr. Vandergriff,” the lawyer says.
“Don’t,” I say to Ben. “Please.”
One brow lifts. He opens his mouth, but before he can speak, I say, “It’s better if I don’t know. Ifno oneknows.”
His brow furrows, and frustration rises in me.
“She doesn’t want to tell me,” I say, “so I can’t cheat. Or someone else can’t decide to cheat for me.”
Josie nods. “Like if the will says there’s an exception if you’re shot. Maybe I’d decide to help out by shooting near you. Or if it says you’re exempted if you’re seriously injured, you might injure yourself to get the money.”
