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Authors: Scott Nicholson
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routine. I never trusted nobody who didn't have a routine."
"What's that have to do with weird noises in the woods?"
"All the Hartleys is rough, but Deke managed to stay out of trouble. Some said he was up to funny business, though. I never was one to snoop in other people's affairs, myself, but a body tends to hear gossip."
Despite her unease, Julia hid a grin behind another bite of pie. She suspected she was about to hear everything Mrs. Covington didn’t want to talk about.
"I reckon he was into drugs," Mrs. Covington said. "The strangest smells used to come from that house. People would come by to visit in the dead of night, and you'd never get to see their faces. About drove me batty, trying to keep up with the coming and going."
"Mr. Webster told me the former tenant ran out on his lease, and that the house had been sitting empty."
"He ran out on everything . Left all his clothes, the television on, food in the fridge, like he just up and walked off the end of the earth. His car was sitting in the driveway for three weeks, never moved, when I finally called the police. I reckon they've still got him down as a missing-persons case. That was about two years back, if I remember right. About the time that little girl got killed."
Julia wondered why Mr. Webster hadn't told her any of this. Maybe he was scared she would have backed out of signing the lease. And the fate of the previous tenant wasn't the type of thing one usually inquired about when house hunting. Julia didn't believe that houses could be haunted, whether the ghosts were dead things or only memories. The house had been a good choice, solid and cheap, despite these revelations. Just enough peace to allow her time to think, and just enough people around to avoid a sense of total isolation. Even if the neighborhood boxer enjoyed spreading little land mines around.
She scooped up the last of her dessert, a bit of crust softened by the ice cream. "You don't think he's missing, do you?"
Mabel Covington's eyes flicked left and right. "I hear things myself, sometimes. When it's dark, people coming through the woods. See, I think they stashed some drugs or money or something, and they want to get it back. Only they don't want to get discovered by having somebody file breaking and entering charges, so they're waiting for the right time. I got a feeling Hartley likes to be missing."
And I thought I was paranoid. Maybe SHE could use an hour or two in Dr. Forrest's office.
Julia wiped the corners of her mouth with a napkin. "Thank you for the pie," she said. "That was the best I've ever had."
"You do my heart glad," the old woman said. "I won't even share no credit with the corporation that boxed it up."
Julia made a show of checking her watch. "Well, I'd better run. I've got some work to do."
Plus it will be dark very soon. And even though my house is only fifty yards away . . .
Mrs. Covington walked Julia to the door. "Didn't mean to scare you none. About Hartley and all that. It's just best to be informed."
"Yes, ma'am," Julia said. She reached down and petted the cat that rubbed against her leg.
"You come on back any time."
"Thank you, Mrs. Covington."
"And call me 'Mabel,' hear?"
Julia nodded, waved good-bye, and headed across the grass. The sun was large and golden in the west, just touching the blazing mountainsides. A sudden gust rattled the leaves like paper skeletons. The hint of coming frost rode on the wind.
Julia crossed the woods into her own yard and circled back behind her house, just to set her mind at ease. Not because she really expected to find anything.
Below her bedroom window, on the ground, was a set of footprints.
Her heart crawled into her throat. She ran blindly for the front door, found her key, rammed it home, and burst inside. She slammed the door closed behind her and stood with her back against it, chest heaving, as daylight ebbed inside the house and every creak was like the lifting of a coffin lid.
CHAPTER
"What's that have to do with weird noises in the woods?"
"All the Hartleys is rough, but Deke managed to stay out of trouble. Some said he was up to funny business, though. I never was one to snoop in other people's affairs, myself, but a body tends to hear gossip."
Despite her unease, Julia hid a grin behind another bite of pie. She suspected she was about to hear everything Mrs. Covington didn’t want to talk about.
"I reckon he was into drugs," Mrs. Covington said. "The strangest smells used to come from that house. People would come by to visit in the dead of night, and you'd never get to see their faces. About drove me batty, trying to keep up with the coming and going."
"Mr. Webster told me the former tenant ran out on his lease, and that the house had been sitting empty."
"He ran out on everything . Left all his clothes, the television on, food in the fridge, like he just up and walked off the end of the earth. His car was sitting in the driveway for three weeks, never moved, when I finally called the police. I reckon they've still got him down as a missing-persons case. That was about two years back, if I remember right. About the time that little girl got killed."
Julia wondered why Mr. Webster hadn't told her any of this. Maybe he was scared she would have backed out of signing the lease. And the fate of the previous tenant wasn't the type of thing one usually inquired about when house hunting. Julia didn't believe that houses could be haunted, whether the ghosts were dead things or only memories. The house had been a good choice, solid and cheap, despite these revelations. Just enough peace to allow her time to think, and just enough people around to avoid a sense of total isolation. Even if the neighborhood boxer enjoyed spreading little land mines around.
She scooped up the last of her dessert, a bit of crust softened by the ice cream. "You don't think he's missing, do you?"
Mabel Covington's eyes flicked left and right. "I hear things myself, sometimes. When it's dark, people coming through the woods. See, I think they stashed some drugs or money or something, and they want to get it back. Only they don't want to get discovered by having somebody file breaking and entering charges, so they're waiting for the right time. I got a feeling Hartley likes to be missing."
And I thought I was paranoid. Maybe SHE could use an hour or two in Dr. Forrest's office.
Julia wiped the corners of her mouth with a napkin. "Thank you for the pie," she said. "That was the best I've ever had."
"You do my heart glad," the old woman said. "I won't even share no credit with the corporation that boxed it up."
Julia made a show of checking her watch. "Well, I'd better run. I've got some work to do."
Plus it will be dark very soon. And even though my house is only fifty yards away . . .
Mrs. Covington walked Julia to the door. "Didn't mean to scare you none. About Hartley and all that. It's just best to be informed."
"Yes, ma'am," Julia said. She reached down and petted the cat that rubbed against her leg.
"You come on back any time."
"Thank you, Mrs. Covington."
"And call me 'Mabel,' hear?"
Julia nodded, waved good-bye, and headed across the grass. The sun was large and golden in the west, just touching the blazing mountainsides. A sudden gust rattled the leaves like paper skeletons. The hint of coming frost rode on the wind.
Julia crossed the woods into her own yard and circled back behind her house, just to set her mind at ease. Not because she really expected to find anything.
Below her bedroom window, on the ground, was a set of footprints.
Her heart crawled into her throat. She ran blindly for the front door, found her key, rammed it home, and burst inside. She slammed the door closed behind her and stood with her back against it, chest heaving, as daylight ebbed inside the house and every creak was like the lifting of a coffin lid.
CHAPTER
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