Page 4 of The Souls of Lost Lake

Larson remained passive, though Ava noticed a twitch to the tip of his nose. He was perturbed. Hiding it well, but still perturbed. Heraised his hands, palms forward. “Listen here, we’ve no reason to believe anyone is in immediate danger. But while we’re investigating the situation, we are advising you all to take to locking your doors at night. Windows too, if you have locks on them.”

Another round of murmurs.

Mrs. Sanderson blinked.

Ava met her gaze and dropped hers to the scuffed floor. There was something about Mrs. Sanderson that made her feel smaller than a drowning beetle in a barrel of water.

“Never mind her.” Ned’s whisper touched her ear.

Ava stepped away, instinctively raising her hand to tuck the tendrils of blond hair behind her ear that his breath had dislodged.

“Who’s on the suspect list?” Mr. Sanderson’s voice held a very distinct edge. As if he had already built his own list and wanted to make sure that Larson’s matched.

Larson ran his tongue along the inside of his lower lip, tucking his tobacco chew and making the lump jut out from his cheek like a tumor. “Can’t say. You know that.”

“Issheon it?” Tipping his head in her direction, Sanderson’s brown eyes—which should’ve been warm like coffee—skewered her like a hand-carved wooden spike.

The room fell quiet.

Larson exchanged glances with Councilman Pitford.

Widower Frisk spit a stream into the nearby corner, more out of boredom than irritation or concern. Jipsy stepped away from in front of Ava, so that Ava was forced to bear the full brunt of most of the town’s leading citizens’ gazes.

Ned was the only one who didn’t move.

“Well?” Sanderson pressed.

The law-enforcement officer cleared his throat again. “I can’t say.”

“And that’s a yes!” someone shouted from the far wall.

Rumbles began again. Everyone expressing their opinions. Ava shot a desperate look toward Ned, because he seemed to be theonly person who cared at the moment. But the look on his face was distant. He seemed mesmerized by the power of suspicion when fed on by a crowd.

“I need to go,” Ava muttered to no one in particular. She took a few steps toward the door. It had been foolish to come tonight. It would be best if she left Tempter’s Creek now altogether. It’d never been an idea far from her mind, but her ties to this place—to her family—arrested her every time. Now? It seemed destiny was going to make her decision for her. Innocence was not a trait she could carry well.

“Don’t let her go!” a man shouted.

Another stiff-armed her, planting his palm against the wall so her chest bumped into his arm as she tried to get to the door.

“She needs to be taken into custody!”

“What if she comes after our children?”

“We knew all along she wasn’t as angelic as you all said she was!”

“Anyone check old Frisk’s place to see if his ax is missin’? She probably swiped it from him!”

“My ax is right where it should be!” Widower Frisk shouted back into the rising fray, intent on keeping his name—and his ax—clear of suspicions.

“Folks!” Councilman Pitford tried to maintain control. He even pounded on the podium at the front of the town hall, demanding attention with more than just his voice. But the body was growing more restless and more exaggerated.

“Can’t no one forget what happened six years ago!” a fresh voice added to the fray.

“Wood Nymph, my eye—she’s a bad omen, that Ava Coons!”

“Matthew Hubbard was a good man. God-fearing too!” This time it was a woman, and Ava knew right then that any hope the fairer sex would come to the aid of their own was for naught.

She ducked under the arm that still blockaded her in the room. Her overalls bagged around her thin legs as Ava hurried toward the back of the room. Toward the door.