Page 21 of The Haunting of Paynes Hollow

I’m in the cottage. Josie is with me, fussing around the kitchen, brewing coffee I won’t drink.

I’m huddled in the corner of the sofa. Someone—Josie?

Ben?—brought me a sweatshirt when I wouldn’t stop shivering.

It’s not mine or Gail’s. I don’t know where it came from, but it’s huge, and I’ve pulled it over my knees as I sit there, rocking.

Oh, everyone has assured me that the weed-covered sandal means nothing.

Gail could have taken off her flip-flops to walk in the sand, and they got pulled out and caught some floating weeds before drifting back to shore.

It’s not evidence that she drowned and sank, her sandal catching on the weed-choked lake bed before sliding from her dead body.

That didn’t happen, Sam. Not at all.

They’re going to widen the search. Take out the boats. Get a diver. They’re sure she’s not out there, drowned, but that’s what they’ll do. Just in case.

Time stutters, and the next thing I know, I’m sitting there holding a mug of cold coffee and Sheriff Smits is asking me a question.

“Sam?” he says. “I need to know how you want this handled.”

His tone says it’s not the first time he’s asked.

“Handled?” I croak.

“How public would you like me to go with this? It’s still early in the search, and the media wouldn’t necessarily broadcast it under normal circumstances, but … with your grandfather and your connection to Paynes Hollow…”

He’s dancing around something, and it takes a moment for me to understand.

If he declares Gail a missing person, he can ask for the public’s help finding her.

But will that do any good, if we’re reasonably sure she didn’t just wander off?

And if the regional media gets hold of it—daughter of Paynes Hollow’s founding family disappears under mysterious circumstances—how long will it be before my grandfather’s will and its stipulations are public knowledge?

Resurrecting my father’s crime and clarifying who is currently living—alone—on the property?

“Can Gail be declared a missing person?” I ask. “Doesn’t it take forty-eight hours?”

“Not if she disappeared in circumstances that suggest she didn’t just walk away.”

“Would going public help?”

He chews that over, and I realize I’m putting him in a tough position.

“No, right?” I say. “It would do more harm than good.”

“I believe so, but I am going to make this your call.”

“You’ll keep searching?”

“Of course.” He seems affronted by the question. “I’ll still call in others, including people with boats. I know someone with sonar. That might help. I will also notify nearby police departments.”

I nod. “That’s enough. Thank you.”

“Josie will stay here with you.”

I open my mouth to protest, but Ben beats me to it.

“Why?” he says. “She can leave, can’t she?”

Josie frowns at him. “I’m fine with staying.”

“I mean Sam,” Ben says. “No one’s going to expect her to stay after this.” He looks at me. “Right?”

“I … I have no idea. I presume I need to stay—”

“When your aunt has disappeared? With a trespasser on the property?”

“We aren’t considering that a likely scenario,” Smits says.

“Why not?” Ben says. “Sam reported seeing a stranger. Her aunt disappeared with the front door left wide open.” He waves it off. “Fine. I’ll call the lawyer. I’m sure this means Sam can go home and still collect her inheritance.”

As he makes that call, my heart thuds. Part of me would love to hear that it’s over. But part of me panics at the thought of leaving while Gail is missing. It would feel like abandoning her.

I withdraw into my thoughts and tune out Ben’s phone call. After a few minutes, Josie says, “Sam?,” and I look over to see everyone waiting for me.

“I’m putting Ms. Jimenez on speaker,” Ben says. “Just so no one thinks I’m making shit up.”

His voice is as empty as his expression, but his eyes are dark with anger. Is the lawyer saying I’m done? That I get my inheritance without—in Ben’s opinion—earning it?

“Ben has explained the situation to me,” Ms. Jimenez says over the speaker.

“Sam, I am so sorry to hear about your aunt, and I am truly hoping it is a misunderstanding and she’s simply wandered off.

But, with Sheriff Smits involved, I understand that the authorities consider it a disappearance and that you wish to know how this affects your situation. ”

“Sam didn’t ask,” Ben says. “I did.”

“Be that as it may, the answer, I’m afraid, is no. You must remain there for the full month. The only exception comes if you yourself are in dang—”

Ms. Jimenez cuts herself short with a throat clearing.

“As I said, anything that happens to your aunt would not change the will. However, were she to be found in need of medical care, obviously you would be able to get that. If you must leave the property for a length of time, for anything that falls within a set of criteria—such as you or a family member requiring urgent medical attention—you may do so and make up the time at a doubled rate.”

“You mean for every day Sam’s gone, she has to spend two more days here,” Josie says.

“Yes. And the situation must be fully verifiable.”

“Back up,” Ben says. “You started to say that there’s an exception if Sam herself is in danger.”

A pause long enough that he leans over to check the phone. “Ms. Jimenez?”

“Yes.”

“Would you please elaborate on that?” Ben’s voice takes on a tone I haven’t heard. Gone is the irritation and the sullen I-don’t-give-a-shit. It’s crisp, focused, professional.

“No,” she says.

“I need you to elaborate, Ms. Jimenez,” he says. “Under exactly what circumstances—”

“They are complicated, and I do not wish to risk misunderstanding.”

“So send me a copy. I’m sure I can figure it out. I know a little legalese.”

Sheriff Smits makes a noise that I can’t decipher. Mockery, I’m sure.

“I cannot do that, Mr. Vandergriff,” the lawyer says.

“Don’t,” I say to Ben. “Please.”

One brow lifts. He opens his mouth, but before he can speak, I say, “It’s better if I don’t know. If no one knows.”

His brow furrows, and frustration rises in me.

“She doesn’t want to tell me,” I say, “so I can’t cheat. Or someone else can’t decide to cheat for me.”

Josie nods. “Like if the will says there’s an exception if you’re shot. Maybe I’d decide to help out by shooting near you. Or if it says you’re exempted if you’re seriously injured, you might injure yourself to get the money.”

“Yes,” I say. “So let’s drop this.”

“Thank you,” Ms. Jimenez says. “Also, I must point out that if you did obtain an exception, it would only be under extreme circumstances, and even then, it would be heavily scrutinized. Not by me. I am not your enemy, Sam, however much it might feel like it right now. What I’m doing is interpreting the will for you in the strictest sense, to keep your uncle—or other relatives—from challenging it.

But they will challenge any exception, so that is a last resort. ”

I thank the lawyer and go into my bedroom, where I resume the same position I’d had on the couch, sitting up with my knees pulled in, my chin on them.

After about twenty minutes, Sheriff Smits knocks. Even making the effort of speech is really too much, but I don’t want to be mistaken for rude or ungrateful, so I say, “Come in.”

He opens the door only a crack. “Just letting you know I’m leaving to continue the search. We’ll be taking boats out further down and coming back along the lake. Josie will stay here.”

I straighten my legs. “I’ll be fine. You need her searching. I can help, too.”

“We’re going to have you two search the property.”

I swallow. “Right. I can’t leave. But Josie should—”

“She should stay here to help, and in case Gail comes back.”

“Right. Okay.”

He says he’ll be in touch and starts to close the door before stopping. “Sam?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t give up hope. We have no idea what’s happened here.”

“Okay.” I pause, and then add, “Thank you, sir.”

“Craig. Call me Craig.”

“Thank you.”

Josie and I spend the rest of the day searching the property. My gut says it’s pointless, but I can’t stop, even when she suggests I take a break.

Ben is long gone. Took off as soon as Sheriff Smits forgot about him, I’m sure, and I don’t blame him. This isn’t his responsibility.

Mrs. Smits drops off dinner. We don’t see her—we just go inside to find a cooler and reheating instructions. After we eat, I’d planned to resume searching, but all my drive has vanished, and I just want to curl up in my bed again.

“You should head home,” I say to Josie. “I’m just going to sleep.”

“Then I’ll stay here while you do.”

“You don’t need—”

“We don’t know what happened to your aunt,” she says, meeting my gaze. “Hopefully nothing, but you did see an intruder.”

I slump into the sofa. “I’m not even sure about that anymore. I was, but…” I trail off and shrug. “Who knows.”

“If you want to sleep, do that. If you want to do anything else—play cards, dig up a board game, talk—we’ll do that.

Failing everything else, there’s always the treasure hunt in your grandfather’s crawl space.

” She stops and winces. “And that was insensitive, wasn’t it?

Sorry. I’m just trying to come up with a distraction. ”

“That would actually be a good one.” I look at her. “Are you up for it?”

“I think that’s my question. If you are, I am.”

“I am.”