Page 58 of The Haunting of Paynes Hollow

We crawl through. She takes in her surroundings with that gajillion- lumen flashlight, as I continue on to the bathroom.

“Ooh,” she says when I move the bathroom mat aside. “That really is a super-secret hiding space.”

“More like a place to stash the booze off-season. My da—” I clear my throat. “My family always said the only thing people would break into our cottages for was the leftover booze. We didn’t keep anything else here.”

“What about your gran’s pirate booty?”

I smile. “She’d say they were welcome to it, and would hope they enjoyed it as much as she did. The alcohol is another story, especially if the local kids decided to pour something else in to cover up the theft.” I make a face. “Sorry. You’re one of those local kids.”

She shrugs. “It’s a trick used by teens everywhere. Add a little water and food coloring to hide the missing booze. Also, full confession, asteens, my friends and I knew all the summer cottages where owners kept the key under the back mat and a shit ton of booze in the cupboard. We never bothered watering it down, though.”

“I used to sneak my grandfather’s crème de menthe up here.”

“The stuff that tastes like sweetened mouthwash? Ugh. How old were you?”

“Eleven? Twelve? It was a very small amount—like a quarter of a shot—that I poured on my ice cream. Told my parents the shop in town had mint syrup. Which worked very well until the day my mom asked for some on hers. After some confusion, Mrs. Cooper said they were out of it.”

Josie laughs. “Mrs. Cooper is thebest.My mom really didn’t like me having sweets, so Mrs. Cooper would tell her that I’d used my snack money for apples.”

I smile and unlock the crawl space hatch. When I tug it open, dust flies up, and we fall back, coughing.

“Forget strong flashlights,” Josie says. “We need gas masks.” She leans forward and makes a gagging noise. “And not just for the dust. Something died down there.”

“A lot of somethings, I bet.” I ease onto my haunches. “You want to abandon ship?”

“Never.” She pulls her shirt up over her nose and mouth. “Ready when you are. Just… leave the hatch open.”

“For ventilation? Or escape?”

“Both.”

I wasn’t kidding about the booze in the crawl space. That’s the first thing we find—two plastic milk crates full of half-filled bottles. We heave those out, and Josie jokes about distributing them in all the local teen bonfire spots. There are a few unopened bottles of wine and one of scotch, and I tell her she’s welcome to those. She says her parents will appreciate them, especially after the extra aging.

Otherwise, the crawl space is full of household stuff. The outdoor furniture and lake toys always went in the shed. Down here are things like the hibachi grill, sleeping bags, and boxes of old sheets and dishesthat my grandmother was too thrifty to throw out and my grandfather was too stingy to donate.

The crawl space itself is about four feet high, meaning we can walk at a crouch and then hunker down to sift through boxes. The single space stretches the length and width of the cottage, interrupted only by support pillars.

I do find a box of my grandmother’s “pirate booty”—as well as highlander booty, duke booty, and sheikh booty. As I leaf through the moldering paperbacks, I remember the one upstairs and how I’d planned to sneak it onto Gail’s nightstand.

I sit there, gazing down at another bare-chested pirate, tears falling on the cover. Then I shove it back into the box and turn to see Josie fifteen feet away. She’s reading what seems like a piece of paper.

“Files?” I ask.

She jumps and drops what she’d been holding. Then she holds up an old paperback. “No, just books. Some are falling apart.”

“Anything interesting?”

I’m making my way over when her light goes out. She curses, and I hear her smacking at it. Then it comes on, brightening the area enough for me to continue my trek. I join her at the box she’s going through, where she holds out the hardcover.

It’s an old book titledSpooky Legends of the Great Lakes.

“Oh,” I say. “That one. Can’t remember a word of it, but I read it about ten times as a kid.”

She passes it over. “You should take it.”

“I will.” I tuck the book under my arm. “Anything else interesting?”

“Well, I did find two very tempting boxes of clothing from the seventies.”