Page 7 of What She Saw
“Why would a young gal like you want to hide away in an old cabin in the woods?”
“A quiet place to work. And I’m on a deadline.”
“Are you one of those true crime writers?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“The only people who’ve ever had any real interest in Taggart’s cabin were into solving crimes.”
If I feigned ignorance, I learned more. People loved to talk and prove they were in the know. “What crime?”
“Taggart was the sheriff in Dawson for over twenty years. He investigated the Mountain Music Festival murders.” She spoke as if the facts were ingrained.
“I read something about that.”
“Who are you writing for?”
“I have a contract with a magazine. Circulation isn’t huge.”
“Why come here?” She shook her head. “We see hikers and mountain bikers in Dawson. Not writers.”
“Easier to concentrate if I don’t have interruptions.”
“You won’t get any at the cabin. It doesn’t have Wi-Fi. Or cell service. You’ll have to drive down the mountain to get your phone to work. The coffee maker is an automatic drip, so buy a bag of ground coffee. Clean sheets and towels are in the storage closet. There’s a television and VHS player. Taggart liked his westerns and old war movies.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“And how did you find our agency?” Bailey’s voice rose with the question.
“Dawson made the Top 10 list for ‘Out-of-the-Way Haunted Mountain Locations.’ Your agency is one of two in town.”
She nodded. “We had a ghost hunter stay at the cabin about two years ago. He didn’t stay but a couple of nights.”
“Is the house haunted?”
“Depends. Are you scared of ghosts?”
The dead never bothered me. Trouble tended to follow the living. “No. I figure once you’ve crossed over, you’re no real threat to me.”
“That’s very brave of you. I’m not so courageous. I’m sure the dead are watching, and I don’t like it.”
“Why are ghosts watching you?”
Gold beaded bracelets on her wrist rattled as she brushed back a wisp of dyed blond hair. “Unfinished business.”
Bailey’s smooth skin had the look of Botox and fillers, but her eyes reflected a distance that belied her pleasant expression. But I imaginedwhen she was younger, she was stunning. “Fair enough. The living have their share of it, too.”
“Either way, I don’t like being around anything spooky. You’re one brave woman.”
“Ghosts, dogs, and I get along fine.”
She laughed. “Well, Sloane, enjoy your stay. Remember, no Wi-Fi or cell phone service, but if you need a signal or anything else, the convenience store at the bottom of the mountain is the place to go.”
“Thanks, Bailey.”
I’d learned long ago to play along, smile. Sooner or later, they’d figure out what I was about, but for now, I wasn’t interested in baring all.
“The cabin isn’t on my GPS,” I said.
