Page 92 of The Woman in the Hollow
As it was, things were too busy for anyone to say anything to me but relay work-related information.
“What is it?” I asked when I finally took a break to find Dante standing staring at the woods.
“Tell me a little about the employees.”
“Don’t you know them?”
“I hired a few. But it was mostly Dom’s job. Especially the seasonal workers like the performers.”
With that, we kind of took a casual walk around as I discreetly pointed out the employees, telling Dante their names, anything personal I knew about them, and what kind of employee I found them to be.
“What is it?” Dante asked when he caught me glancing around.
“I don’t see Ant.”
“Ant?”
“I hired him. He’s a great performer. And by that I mean he’s very attractive and all the girls who read that dark romance smutty stuff all go ga-ga over him and his face paint.”
“Caught my sister showing our cousin one of those edits once. Maybe he took the night off.”
“Maybe,” I agreed, but I’d once overheard him telling one of the others that he really needed the money. I doubted he would miss a night unless he was really hurt or sick.
“When did you hire Ant?”
“Um, right after you told me I could.”
“Huh. Do you have the employment contract for him?”
“Yeah. I have everyone’s forms in the office. Why?”
“I just want to check into everyone who might be suspicious. Especially new hires.”
“He’s just a kid.”
“I was doing some shady shit when I was a kid too,” Dante said. “Come on, let’s—”
“Hazel, can I borrow you for a second?” Brit called, glancing between me and Dante, an uncomfortable look in her eyes.
“Sure. Can I have one second with her?” I asked.
Dante glanced toward his men gathered around. “Yeah. Sure. Meet me in the office after, okay?”
I gave him a nod before walking over to Brit. “Is everything okay?” I asked, noticing the wide, panicked look in her eye.
“I, uh, have a… situation,” she said.
“Situation?”
“Okay. It’s super embarrassing, but I… I kind of, you know, bled through. And I need to go get changed.”
“Oh,” I said, suddenly understanding her panic. “Don’t be embarrassed. We’ve all been there. Okay. How about you,” I said, shrugging out of my jacket and handing it to her, “wrap this around your waist so you can get home.”
“I don’t need to go home,” she assured me. “I have a change of clothes in the car, but I’m supposed to be here at the haunted house in case anyone freaks out or anything like that.”
“Okay. I’ll stand here. You go do whatever you need to do. Take your time.”
“Thanks, really,” she said, then turned and sped-walked around the building toward the parking lot.
