Page 36 of The Woman in the Hollow
So I tried to keep my head down and just do my job. It was hard, though, when everywhere I turned, there seemed to be someone lingering. While I didn’t feel like any of them were watching me, per se, it felt uncomfortable.
I started spending more time inside the shop, pretending that ordering and researching new artisans for the upcoming Christmas season required all my attention.
The thing was, browsing stuff online left a lot of room for my mind to roam. And roam it did. To the night in the woods, to the memory of the man, my certainty at the time that he was real. Then, of course, it drifted to the conversation with Dante.
It still didn’t feel right.
One thing I’d noticed every time I spoke to Dante was how good he was at eye contact. He knew just the balance between engaged listener and creep. I always felt like he was listening to understand, not just to wait for his turn to speak.
That conversation about the body had been different. He hadn’t looked at me once. Well, he’d lookedtowardme a few times, but not directly at me. There hadn’t been any eye contact.
What other conclusion could be drawn but that he’d lied to me?
The thing was, I couldn’t figure out why.
What would he have to gain by convincing me that a body wasn’t a body?
If this was some TV show or movie, I would come to the conclusion it was because he’d killed the guy.
Except… both he and Domenico had seemed genuinely shocked about my finding a body in the woods.
So if therewas, like I suspected, a body there, why would they lie about it? Because of business? Was he worried about the bad press? About people thinking it wasn’t safe? About all the schools backing out because of parental backlash?
It was a valid concern, of course. We were right in the middle of the busy season. If he lost customers now, it might not only tank the Halloween season, but Christmas too.
It wasn’t like someone just had a heart attack or something from fear. Tragic, sure, but understandable. There were extenuating circumstances, bad health, etc.
But if someone was stabbed to death? There was no spinning that.
Still, was that good enough of a reason to… what? Hide a body?
My head whipped to the side, looking out the window, staring at the sprawling woods.
Was he out there?
Had they just… buried him?
My stomach twisted at the idea.
Especially as I imagined Dante, of all people, being the one to dig that grave, to push the body into it like it didn’t belong to someone, like there weren’t people out there wondering where he might be, what happened to him.
Somehow, as awful as it sounded, I could imagine Domenico doing something like that. Sure, he’d been nice to me. But there was some darkness inside of that man.
But Dante?
Dante, who I’d seen playing cars with his nephews at his mother’s house? Who’d rolled up his sleeves to wash the dishes after dinner was done? Who put his hand at the small of my back to lead me around? Who brought me coffee?
How could he do something like that?
God.
I was letting my mind run away with me. There was no proof he’d hidden a body, for goodness’ sake.
The problem was, I had a lot of questions and no answers to any of them.
Maybe I needed to do a little… investigation of my own.
Into horror props, any local missing people—hell, maybe even Dante Grassi himself.
