The Invited(116)

The necklace and dreams brought her closer to the treasure.

After nearly two weeks of digging almost every night, she’d found it last night! A crumbling wooden box. Inside that, a metal box with rusted hinges and catches. She broke it open with the spade of her shovel—inside were jewelry, gold coins, old bills, all wrapped in waxed canvas. It was real. As much as she trusted Hattie to lead her, she couldn’t quite believe that it was here, that she could touch it. She gingerly picked up a gold bracelet—were those rubies? Garnets? She put the bracelet back, nestled among other things that glinted and sparkled. She blinked down stupidly at the treasure, unsure of what to do next. It was nearly two in the morning. The box was too big; there was too much to carry back on her own easily. She decided to rebury it and come back again soon, once she’d thought things through and made a plan.

She carefully put it all back in the ground, changed into dry clothes, then walked home and slipped into bed beside Dustin. He didn’t stir.



* * *



. . .

Tonight, as she drove home from the spirit circle, she knew time was running out. The others were suspicious. They’d be watching her, keeping a close eye. She needed to go back and get the treasure soon—tonight! She’d do it tonight. She’d go home, change into old clothes for digging, pick up Dustin’s canvas duffel bag, and go get the treasure. Then she’d bring it home, hide it. She’d show Dustin, of course, and together, they’d figure out what their next move should be.

Heart pounding, shaky with adrenaline, she turned off the headlights as she pulled into her driveway and up to the dark house. She opened the front door slowly, crept into the hall.

The kitchen light came on.

    Dustin was waiting for her.

“Where have you been?” he asked. His eyes were rimmed with red. From the smell of him and the empty bottle of Jim Beam on the kitchen table, he’d be in no shape to go in to work in the morning. And no shape to start an argument with.

She would tell him now. Tell him everything. “I—”

“And where have you been every damn night? Last night you didn’t get in until two in the morning. Now look at you—creeping in just before midnight, all dressed up, fancy shoes on.”

“Dustin, there’s something I need to tell you,” she said.

“Who is he?” Dustin demanded.

“What? There is no he,” she said.

“Half the town knows it,” he said. “How do you think it feels to go in to work, have the guys whispering about what a dumbass I am because my wife is sleeping around and I don’t even have a fucking clue?”

“Dustin, I’ve never been unfaithful, how could you even—”

“I’m not going to be the dumbass anymore,” he snarled. He stood up from the kitchen table, stumbling a bit. “You know what I keep thinking about? How back when I asked you to marry me, you took your time answering—you weren’t sure—and me, I needed you to say yes. I needed you to say yes because I didn’t want to live without you. I loved you that much.”

“I loved you, too, Dustin. I love you still.”

“Get out.”

“But, Dustin, I—”

“Get the fuck out of my house! Go on! Before your daughter wakes up and finds out the truth about her slut of a mother!”

Then he slapped her across the face so hard she staggered backward, fell over.

Dustin stood over her, face red, fist raised.

In that moment, she didn’t know him at all.





CHAPTER 46



Helen





SEPTEMBER 13, 2015

Olive was Hattie’s great-great-granddaughter. Helen could hardly believe it.

Helen called Riley, but the call went to voice mail. “I found Gloria Gray. You’re not going to believe who it is. Call me as soon as you get this!”

“Helen, maybe we should wait,” Nate said. “Or go to the police first.”

Helen laughed. “The police? You mean Officer Friendly, who couldn’t give a shit when someone tried to gas us to death? And what are we going to tell them? That a ghost told me to find Lori Kissner? They already have me flagged in the system as a crazy person, I’m sure.”

“I don’t know…I—”

“I’m going to Olive’s right now to talk to Olive. And to Dustin. Are you coming or not?”

They got in the truck, Helen behind the wheel. She threw the truck into reverse before Nate even had his door closed.

“Jesus, Helen, slow down,” Nate said as she hit the gas, backing up, spinning the wheel to get them turned around, headlights illuminating their decrepit trailer, the motion-activated camera at the edge of the yard near the woods.

Helen ignored him and barreled down the driveway, barely slowing when they got to the road and she yanked the wheel to the left, the truck fishtailing a bit.

“We’re not going to be any help to Olive or her mom if we’re pinned in a wrecked truck,” Nate reminded her.

“I’ve got it, Nate,” she said. He was quiet.

The headlights turned the road into a brightly lit tunnel of thick trees, the vegetation reaching for them, everything feeling very alive, very much like it wanted to overtake them.