Page 91 of The Haunting of Paynes Hollow
“Yeah.”
I look up at him. “Yeah?”
He lifts one shoulder. “I saw it in there, too. Until then, I just figured it was made-up nonsense.”
“It’s not. It’s another branch of water-creature mythology. I’ve seen the word before in video games. But this…” I squint down at it. “I can’t make heads or tails of it. Are they reporting what they saw here? In the lake?”
“Bring it inside. You need better lighting and the internet for deciphering. It’s slow going, and I didn’t get far. Just far enough to…”Another one-shouldered shrug. “Far enough to decide it was delusional superstitious nonsense. Until last night.”
I slide the book back into the bag, and we leave the shed.
At the sound of a car, I hand the book wordlessly to Ben, who tucks it into his waistband, his shirt pulled down over it. We head to the drive, expecting to see Sheriff Smits. Instead, Josie is climbing out of her compact car.
She’s facing east, the rising sun obviously hiding our expressions, because she grins and holds up a takeout bag.
“Breakfast from the diner,” she says. “I skipped their coffee. It’s shit, as Ben can confirm. You two are up bright and early. Quiet night, I hope?”
I glance at Ben, who says nothing.
“You… haven’t spoken to your dad this morning?” I say as I walk over.
She stops, her smile fading. “Uh, no. Is something wrong? I… Well, I wasn’t at home last night. Dad and I had a bit of a blowup.”
“Everything okay?”
She shrugs, her expression guarded. “Okay enough. Living under the same roof, Dad and I butt heads. In the offseason, I cottage-sit, but in the summer, I’m stuck back home. No rental vacancies in my price range. And then they wonder why all the young people move out.” She trails off. “Well, that was fast. We lost Ben already.”
I glance over my shoulder to see his retreating back.
“Off to do Ben stuff,” I say. “No need to say anything first.”
She rolls her eyes. “Right? Social niceties are really not his thing. Let’s get this breakfast inside, and you can tell me what happened last night.”
Twenty-Seven
Goddamn Ben Vandergriff. He knows I need to tell Josie some version of what’s happened, and yet he’s wandered off before we can discusswhatwe’re going to tell her.
Once in the cottage, I find my phone and text him.
Me: Thanks
An answer comes a few seconds later. It’s a thumbs-up.
“Jerk,” I mutter under my breath.
Me: I need guidance here
Me: What do I tell her?
Ben: Your call
I resist the urge to type back a finger emoji of my own and roll my shoulders, sloughing off my irritation.
Me: So everything then? You’re fine with me telling Josie everything?
Ben: Your call
I was being sarcastic. I’m sure he doesn’t want me to tell her everything. I’m about to text back when he beats me to it.
