Page 29 of The Woman in the Hollow
What was going on?
I walked back down to my bedroom, yanking one of my sweaters off the hanger since it was finally cool enough to warrant it, pulled it on, pulled my hair into a clip, then grabbed my things to head out the door.
I didn’t know what the heck was happening. But I knew where I could find that information.
With family night in the works, I was sure Dante would be at the garden center to make sure everything was up to par.
I drove there in a bit of a daze, seeing the area a bit differently than I had just two days ago. Suddenly, it felt less bright and new, now full of secrets and hidden darkness.
The lot was surprisingly full, but of cars that didn’t belong to our crew of employees.
As I climbed out of the Jeep, I saw several unfamiliar men hanging about. They were all dressed casually, but there was something tense about their postures, something strange about how their heads seemed perpetually on a pivot.
Weird.
Kind of creepy.
I almost considered going back to my car until I finally spotted a familiar face.
Domenico, standing half-facing me, nodding at something the man with his back to me was saying.
I recognized him even before he turned around.
But as soon as Domenico spotted me, he nodded, and Dante turned, his face softening for a beat before a strange, detached mask overtook his features.
My step faltered, then stopped completely.
Dante was the one who closed the distance, moving away from Domenico to step in front of me.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey, babe. How are your hands?” he asked as his gaze inspected my face.
“They’re scabbed over now.” I flashed the angry red but healed scratches at him before balling up my fists.
Because something felt weird here.
Between us, sure, but also around us.
The men? They’d all disappeared. But their cars were still hanging around.
What was happening?
Even the hairs on my arms sensed something was off, and suddenly the ground under my feet felt uneven, off-kilter.
“I, um, have been checking the news,” I said when Dante didn’t say anything. “And there’s been nothing about the murder.”
“Yes. About that,” Dante said, moving to stand next to me, his hand going to my lower back, leading me out of the parking lot as another car pulled in behind us.
“What about it?” I asked, my belly twisting tight, bile climbing up, making me choke it back.
“Well, while I was taking you home, Dom was searching the woods. And, well, he didn’t exactly find a body.”
Even with his hand leading me forward, I froze, my head whipping over to stare at his too-handsome profile.
“What? Isawit. Him. I saw him.” I’d been seeing him behind my eyelids each time I closed my eyes—an image that refused to be erased.
“I know. I didn’t believe him either at first,” Dante said, his tone even and convincing. But why wouldn’t he look at me? “When I got back here, he was waiting, ready to show me what you’d seen in the woods.”
