pretty chatty, when you get her going,” Ellen said.
Taylor found that surprising, but then she’d never tried talking to Mrs. Keeper in a way that would have invited friendly chatter.
“Thanks a lot, Ellen. You’ve been a huge help,” Taylor said.
“No problem. Good luck with your book!” And the girl was off with her cart of books. Taylor hoped she kept that enthusiasm. And the blue hair.
The wind had picked up outside and Taylor stopped to check her email on her phone. Work was anxious for some updates but they’d hold on a little while longer. She was avoiding talking to the police just yet because one thing she was pretty sure hadn’t changed in Sweethollow; the way they closed ranks and didn’t discuss any crimes in town. Especially this time, since two of the dead men (and former Saints) had been cops. Nick and Rob had become officers after high school, and she was pretty sure one other Saint had as well. That’s about all she’d been able to find out from the obits.
She’d go talk to Mrs. Keeper, get some scuttlebutt first. That way if the police weren’t forthcoming, she could still get her boss something juicy. She knew what they really wanted was a kind of tabloid-y piece full of small-town intrigue, innuendo, and gossip. What she wanted was the truth.
Or at least, she thought she did.
The truth was a funny thing. What was true to her might not be for someone else. The truth about the Deathless Rider could be really mundane. But Taylor didn’t think so. Otherwise there’d be no reason for people to cover up deaths or hide articles. There was no reason to treat this “legend” as a tourist attraction but also get secretive and conspicuous about deaths around that time of year. If they were just what they claimed, accidents, then that info should be open and available. It was too weird a dichotomy. Something was off.
Taylor wrapped her scarf around her neck a few more times, then pulled it loose around her mouth. She’d forgotten how much colder it got up here, north of the city. The wind had an edge, making her cheeks sting. She looked at her phone and saw that it was well past 3 p.m. No wonder she was suddenly starving. She headed towards Main Street, wondering if the Sweethollow Diner was still there. She’d practically lived there as a teen, reading, eating French fries, and watching the town.
When she turned the corner she saw that, indeed, it was still there. And it looked almost exactly the same, although the window now proudly displayed a sign that said “Free Wi-Fi!” She wondered if the patrons, who all looked over seventy from where she was standing, even knew what that was. When she saw one of them was sitting with an iPad, she realized she was being kind of backward. Sweethollow might be quaint, but it wasn’t an actual time warp.
She went in and was offered a booth by a young waiter who looked like he wasn’t old enough to drive yet. He was like one tall line, all arms and legs. He seemed nervous talking to her, so she smiled and asked for coffee and a turkey sandwich with fries. Then she sat and looked out over Main Street.
Sweethollow really was scenic. And quaint. And picturesque, and all the words people usually associated with small towns. Most of the buildings had been there a long time and a few had even been restored to look even more “vintage,” with old-fashioned signs and curling roof adornments. They’d renamed things to really give it that old-world feel, like the General Store and Apothecary. There were plenty of modern businesses as well, however, and Taylor could see that they’d made extra effort to improve parking.
If you followed a straight line from the diner down Main Street, you’d hit the large pine tree in the middle, the one with the jaunty pumpkin she’d seen from her room on it. There were also banners and signs about the upcoming festival, ads for local businesses and brews, lots of pictures of the Deathless Rider looking spooky. In
Taylor found that surprising, but then she’d never tried talking to Mrs. Keeper in a way that would have invited friendly chatter.
“Thanks a lot, Ellen. You’ve been a huge help,” Taylor said.
“No problem. Good luck with your book!” And the girl was off with her cart of books. Taylor hoped she kept that enthusiasm. And the blue hair.
The wind had picked up outside and Taylor stopped to check her email on her phone. Work was anxious for some updates but they’d hold on a little while longer. She was avoiding talking to the police just yet because one thing she was pretty sure hadn’t changed in Sweethollow; the way they closed ranks and didn’t discuss any crimes in town. Especially this time, since two of the dead men (and former Saints) had been cops. Nick and Rob had become officers after high school, and she was pretty sure one other Saint had as well. That’s about all she’d been able to find out from the obits.
She’d go talk to Mrs. Keeper, get some scuttlebutt first. That way if the police weren’t forthcoming, she could still get her boss something juicy. She knew what they really wanted was a kind of tabloid-y piece full of small-town intrigue, innuendo, and gossip. What she wanted was the truth.
Or at least, she thought she did.
The truth was a funny thing. What was true to her might not be for someone else. The truth about the Deathless Rider could be really mundane. But Taylor didn’t think so. Otherwise there’d be no reason for people to cover up deaths or hide articles. There was no reason to treat this “legend” as a tourist attraction but also get secretive and conspicuous about deaths around that time of year. If they were just what they claimed, accidents, then that info should be open and available. It was too weird a dichotomy. Something was off.
Taylor wrapped her scarf around her neck a few more times, then pulled it loose around her mouth. She’d forgotten how much colder it got up here, north of the city. The wind had an edge, making her cheeks sting. She looked at her phone and saw that it was well past 3 p.m. No wonder she was suddenly starving. She headed towards Main Street, wondering if the Sweethollow Diner was still there. She’d practically lived there as a teen, reading, eating French fries, and watching the town.
When she turned the corner she saw that, indeed, it was still there. And it looked almost exactly the same, although the window now proudly displayed a sign that said “Free Wi-Fi!” She wondered if the patrons, who all looked over seventy from where she was standing, even knew what that was. When she saw one of them was sitting with an iPad, she realized she was being kind of backward. Sweethollow might be quaint, but it wasn’t an actual time warp.
She went in and was offered a booth by a young waiter who looked like he wasn’t old enough to drive yet. He was like one tall line, all arms and legs. He seemed nervous talking to her, so she smiled and asked for coffee and a turkey sandwich with fries. Then she sat and looked out over Main Street.
Sweethollow really was scenic. And quaint. And picturesque, and all the words people usually associated with small towns. Most of the buildings had been there a long time and a few had even been restored to look even more “vintage,” with old-fashioned signs and curling roof adornments. They’d renamed things to really give it that old-world feel, like the General Store and Apothecary. There were plenty of modern businesses as well, however, and Taylor could see that they’d made extra effort to improve parking.
If you followed a straight line from the diner down Main Street, you’d hit the large pine tree in the middle, the one with the jaunty pumpkin she’d seen from her room on it. There were also banners and signs about the upcoming festival, ads for local businesses and brews, lots of pictures of the Deathless Rider looking spooky. In
Similar Books
