Page 55 of The Haunting of Paynes Hollow

Fell and twisted her ankle.

“Take my arm, and we’ll keep moving. Just don’t expect me to carry you. I don’t do that shit.”

My laugh now is a wheezy snort. I take his arm, my own shaking,and I put a little weight on his so we can move faster. In twenty steps, we’re at the shore. I spot Danny maybe fifty feet away, holding something out in the other direction, where Sheriff Smits is approaching. My gaze drops to the beach, looking for my aunt. There’s no sign of her.

Smits reaches Danny first. He looks at something in Danny’s hand and then takes it and turns to us as we approach.

“Sam?” Smits says gently. “Do you recognize this?”

He holds it up. It’s a pink and blue flip-flop.

Twisted with weeds from the lake bottom.

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 Gailbedeclared 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.”