Page 38 of The Haunting of Paynes Hollow

Thirty

I’m on the driveway, tucked between Ben’s pickup and Josie’s car. I’m struggling for breath, half doubled over, and when I hear footsteps, I want them to be Josie’s but they’re too heavy and slow.

“Go,” I croak. “Please. I don’t want to fight with you. We can’t.”

Silence. Then, “I’m not fighting, Sam. I’m apologizing. I shouldn’t have questioned you when you told me what … what that carving was.”

My shoulders hunch in. “Maybe I misheard him. Maybe—”

“Stop,” he says, his voice low. “You didn’t mishear, and you aren’t lying about the other carvings. You don’t want to fight with me, but I’m not fighting. If you want me to keep my memories of my little brother intact…”

He exhales. “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry, because I’m an asshole. I kept talking about how Austin had a crush and how you two were friends, and that was a shitty thing to do, especially because I was saying it for me.

If I said that, and you didn’t correct me, then my suspicions were wrong and my brother wasn’t a baby sociopath who terrorized you. ”

I turn, slowly, still not looking at him. When I finally do lift my gaze, he’s staring out at the lake.

“I saw what he was,” he says. “My parents saw it. They pretended they didn’t, and if I said anything…” He rubs his mouth. “I learned not to say anything. Otherwise, I was being paranoid and jealous.”

“Jealous of Austin?” I say.

“When I was a kid, I was a straight-A student, responsible as hell,” he says, glancing over with a twisted smile.

“Hard to believe now, huh? Then I hit my teens and acted out. Typical teen shit. Smoking weed, skipping school, don’t-give-a-shit attitude.

My parents forgot the good kid I’d been, and suddenly I was demon spawn and Austin was their new angel, and if I said I caught him torturing a wounded squirrel, I was the lying monster.

Then he died, and we all got stuck in our places. He’s the dead angel, and I’m still—”

He rubs his mouth. “This isn’t about me.

Back then, I did worry about Austin’s interest in you.

I talked to him, and he blew me off. I didn’t see anything—I’d have stopped him if I did—but I didn’t look too hard either.

When our parents said he was banned from your property, I laid into him.

Told him if you weren’t interested, he needed to back the fuck off.

We had a big fight, and he stormed off to his room, and I thought I’d won. ”

He shoves his hands into his pockets. “I was too much of a dumbass to realized he’d climbed out the window, and I didn’t check on him because I was done with his shit. Sat on the porch, listened to tunes, smoked a joint and told myself I had it under control.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Because I’m an asshole?” He shakes his head and then lowers his voice. “Those animals you found this week. They reminded you of something he’d done, didn’t they.”

I tense.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he says. “You don’t need to confirm or deny.

I’d caught him with small animals. You think he’s responsible this time, too.

Whatever he is, however he got out there in the lake, he did it.

Cut up the rabbit and the fox. Maybe even tried to frame you.

Like when I caught him with the squirrel, and he told our parents that I did it. ”

“I didn’t think … Not consciously … I don’t know.” I wrap my arms around myself. “But what we saw can’t be Austin. He’s buried, right?”

“I saw the casket lowered, so I don’t know how he’d get out, short of some zombie-movie scenario where he dug his way out. That sounds ridiculous but—”

Gravel crunches. Ben peers over. When Sheriff Smits’s truck appears, Ben curses.

“Just what we need,” he mutters.

“I’ll get rid of him.”

“And I’ll just try to keep my mouth shut.”

Smits ambles out of the truck as Josie exits the cottage. She stops and nods. He tips his hat but doesn’t speak to her.

“Can I help you, Sheriff?” I say.

He studies my expression and then shakes his head. “You’re not happy with me either. Can’t say I blame you. Last night, you told me you saw a man die, and I blew you off. Treated you like a kid getting all worked up over nothing.”

“It’s fine,” I say. “You were probably right anyway.” I give a small laugh and hope I sell it. “Probably? You were certainly right. What else could it have been? Actual drowned dead killing a cyclist?” From behind Smits’s shoulder, Ben gives me a look to say I’m overselling it.

Smits laughs obligingly. “Well, it still bothers me that I dismissed it so quickly. I’ve been looking on the wire for anything about a missing cyclist. Nothing yet, but if there’s a chance a lone traveler really is missing, it’ll take a while for it to be reported.”

“Okay…”

“I’m certain there’s a very simple explanation, and it probably involves your cousin.

But still, what if this guy got caught up in your cousin’s plan and was actually injured?

Accidentally drowned? What happens when someone comes looking for him?

I can’t lie. I’d need to admit it was reported, but I dismissed it. ”

“I’m happy to retract it.” Anything to get you moving on, Sheriff.

“I’d never do that. If it’s bothering me, that’s a sign I haven’t done my job properly.

” He looks at Ben. “I’ll get a boat out, maybe the one with sonar.

Meanwhile, you and I are going to do what we should have done last night, Mr. Vandergriff.

Take a better look around for any sign this was an actual camper—bike, gear, whatever. ”

“We’ve looked,” I blurt, ignoring Ben’s side-eye. At Smits’s steady gaze, I realize that my lie implicates all of us—me, Ben, and Josie. “I mean…”

“Sam and I took a quick look,” Ben says. “But if you want to search more, go for it. I’m a little busy—”

“Protecting Sam? You seem to have done a one-eighty on that, boy. You finally realized she’s coming into a bit of cash, huh? Decided to go all white knight?”

Ben tenses and opens his mouth, but Josie cuts him off as she walks over. “I’ll go with you, sir.”

Smits flinches at the “sir” but shakes his head. “I’d like you to stay with Sam. I’m concerned about what’s happening out here, and I trust you to look after her.”

He waves to Ben. “Come on, cowboy. I’ll have you back by suppertime.”

I don’t want Ben going into the forest, but no one else argues, and I decide I’m overreacting. It’s hours from nightfall, and he’ll be with Smits. The sheriff might not like him, but he’s not going to run off and let Ben fend for himself if …

If what? The horseman makes a daytime appearance to kill Ben for briefly disagreeing with me? Yeah, that didn’t even qualify as an argument, and I’ve already gotten the strong sense Ben doesn’t like physical contact, so he’s barely touched me.

As long as it’s daylight, we’re fine.

And after daylight? Once night falls? Ben thinks I’m safe, since I seem to be bonded to the nekkers, but I keep seeing Austin, the hate in his eyes.

I shiver and push the thought down. I just want Ben here to help us plan for when it’s not daylight.

After Ben and Smits leave, Josie and I comb through the journal looking for ideas on how to get rid of the nekkers.

“Do you want to get rid of them?” Josie asks finally.

My brows shoot up.

She flushes. “Sorry. That was insensitive, with your aunt and all. Obviously you don’t want to worry about the horseman trampling anyone who shoves you. But this part”—she flips pages—“suggests the nekkers can be controlled by the bonded one.”

“Maybe, but I don’t understand any of it. Can you?”

“No, but…” She glances at me, almost sidelong, unsure. “What if you could control them, Sam? If they were no danger, but you could reap the rewards?”

I stare at her, and she flushes again, glancing away. “I just thought it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Fortune and safety. Maybe a little luck for your mom.”

“At the cost of a life every five years?”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, no. I didn’t mean that. But the life has already been paid, by that camper, and you didn’t have anything to do with it. Maybe you could reap the benefits until the next sacrifice was due and then stop. Put them to rest.”

“Okay, that makes more sense. But whoever wrote the journal couldn’t figure out how to control them either—how to keep them from coming out and hurting people.

She just transcribed what her mother-in-law told her, in case someone else could do it.

Also, what proof do we have that the nekkers actually confer good fortune? ”

I push my seat back. “We know the protection part works, but fortune? Isn’t that why people keep doing magical rituals like this—they tell themselves it worked? Obviously the Paynes got rich. Was that the nekkers or because they were the colonial equivalent of cutthroat industrialists?”

I tap the book. “I don’t think the nekkers did anything.

My ancestors weren’t nice people who just happened to make a lot of money.

My grandfather was an asshole from a long line of assholes, and by the time it got down to him, the money was already drying up.

The bulk of his wealth is here, in land that’s been in the family for centuries. ”

She squirms. “Okay, when you put it like that…”

I squeeze her forearm. “It’s tempting. I get it. What if this good fortune could heal my mother? Help me earn the money for her care, instead of inheriting it from a grandfather I hated? If I knew it could do that?” I shake my head. “Probably better that I don’t, or I’d be tempted—”

Footsteps sound on the steps, and we bolt upright. Josie slaps the book shut and tucks it off to the side as her father walks in.

“Please tell me you’ve seen our Mr. Vandergriff,” he says, taking off his hat.

“Ben?” I say, rising.

“Damn lazy bastard wandered off again. Said he thought he saw something. I waited a few minutes, and when I called out, he didn’t answer. So I went after him, and he was gone.”

My skin prickles, dread creeping through me. “You said he saw something?”

Smits holds out his hand. “Not like that, Sam. He didn’t walk away and get grabbed by your cousin or whatever.

He’s just being his usual contrary self.

We had words. He didn’t like what I had to say.

He stewed about it for a few minutes, and then off he goes, muttering that he thinks he saw something.

I figured he needed a moment to cool down. Apparently not.”

I grab my phone. “I’ll call him.”

“You can try. When I did, he answered and hung up on me. Didn’t say a word. Just hung up.” He shakes his head. “I know that boy went through a lot, but there is no excuse for him to keep acting like a sullen teenager.”

We all got stuck in our places.

Smits admits he said something that pissed Ben off, so I can see Ben not answering his call. But he’ll answer mine.

His phone rings straight to voicemail.

I chew my fingernail, staring down at the screen. Then I text. It doesn’t even show that it’s been delivered.

“Can I ask what you two fought about?” I say carefully.

“Wasn’t a fight.” Smits slumps onto a kitchen chair. “Earlier, you heard me tell him I don’t much like how he’s suddenly worried about you. It’s not his style. When we were out there alone, I was a little blunter. Said he’d damn well better not be expecting a big payout if you get through this.”

I wince.

“Well, I mean it,” Smits says. “The only person who should benefit is you, and that’s not just because you deserve the money. It’s for your own safety. No one else should have a stake in whether you stay. If they do, you can’t trust they’ll tell you to leave when you should.”

Fair point. I can also see why Ben would have reacted. Because he is getting a payout.

Am I naive if I think that’s not the only reason he’s sticking around?

My sense is that Ben needed that money as an excuse.

He couldn’t admit he needed answers about Austin.

He sure as hell couldn’t admit he cares what happens to me.

Is that immature? Yes, but Ben Vandergriff is a very damaged person who hasn’t properly processed his trauma.

And I say that as someone who can squeeze into the same boat with him.

I thought I’d overcome it. I hadn’t. Neither has he, and his is a lot more guilt-layered than I realized.

But he promised me he wouldn’t take off again, and now he’s not answering my call or my text.

Am I overthinking this? It’s not as if Ben is an old friend. He might be someone who can make a promise like that, only to forget it when he’s in a mood. God knows, he can get in a mood.

Smits lowers his voice. “If you’re worried, Sam, we can go look for him.”

I peer out the front window. It’s only five. Hours of light left.

“I’d like that,” I say. “I take it you didn’t find any trace of the camper?”

“No, but there’s a lot of ground to cover. How about you and I do that while also looking for Ben?”

I nod. “Thank you.”

“I’ll join you,” Josie says. “Three sets of eyes are better than two.”

“’Fraid not, hon. I need you back in town.” He lifts his phone to show her something. “Got another report of someone lurking around the kids’ camp. I need you to take a look.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not a pedo, Dad. It’s the same thing it was last time—a parent checking on their kid by lurking in the forest.”

“We don’t get to choose which reports we follow up on. That’s why I came here to look for this camper. It’s why Sam and I are going to hunt for Ben. And it’s why you need to check this out.”

She huffs but says, “I’ll do that and come straight back.”

“Your mother’s making dinner for you and Sam. She’ll have that ready at seven thirty.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll check the kids’ camp and pick up dinner.”