Ghost (The Halloween Boys #1) (16)
I was on my own, alone, as always. Though I appreciated the semblance of someone caring about me, even if it was a stranger and it was his job. The small bit of interaction I’d had with Ames Cove left me feeling like a lovestruck middle-schooler. Apparently, all it took for me to hopelessly fantasize about someone was the smallest amount of human decency. Embarrassment washed over me with the mucky basement water. He probably had a girlfriend or boyfriend already. He certainly wasn’t going to give the likes of me a second look even if he were single.
And it didn’t matter. I’d either be running away or dead in a few weeks. The truth of that fact hit me like a cold wave of dread.
I hoisted my wet box of everything onto my soggy bed with a thud. “Dammit,” I breathed, turning around to find my clothes I’d left strewn along the floor all soaked with filth. Slipping on my boots and shrugging on my gray robe, the only thing I had hanging, I grabbed my bag and keys. Stumbling out the creaky door, I marched up the gravel lot, the crisp first morning of October eyeing me like the crows that sat in a line on the oak branch above my car. My legs were chilled, exposed in black and white striped sleep shorts. My Radiohead T-shirt was peppered with holes, my pale skin shining through. I was about two seconds from ducking into my Honda and screaming when my eye caught on the front yard. Early morning fog blanketed the withered grass, stretching out across the neighborhood. Locust Road was like any other quaint, small-town street. I’d seen only elderly folks and a couple of young families with kids. Across the way, past the aging homes already sprinkled with jack-‘o-lanterns in various sizes, stretched a tree line to a dense forest. A raven cawed above me, startling me as I blinked to make out the shape. The distinct outline of a man stood at the edge of the forest. It’s a neighbor; it’s just a neighbor. Whoever it was, he was staring right at me. I couldn’t make out any features from such a distance, except he was large and seemingly unmoving . . . like a statue. Nervously, I lifted a hand and waved. Not even a sway greeted me. Whoever it was just stood preternaturally still and staring. I swallowed. It’s not him. It’s not him. What if it’s him?
Suddenly, a hand clamped down on my shoulder.
I screamed.
Mr. Moore stumbled back a step. “Sorry, darlin’, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m not used to seeing folks out this early. Honey, I’m afraid we’ve had a leak downstairs. I hope it didn’t ruin too many of your things. We’ll get that cleaned up today. I’m sorry for the trouble.”
My pulse beat in my throat as I took in Mr. Moore’s red plaid shirt and wrinkled eyes. “I was just wondering who that was over there.” I swallowed, turning back to point at the tree line. The gravel crunched as Mr. Moore stepped next to me and put a hand over his forehead, squinting. But whoever it was, they were gone.
“Your mind must be playing tricks on you. I get up at five every morning and I’ve never seen anyone else around. Especially not near the trees. Did nobody ever tell you not to look into the trees, girl? The woods here are ugly even on a good day. Don’t go out exploring in these woods, alright? Easy to . . . lose your way.”
An eeriness settled in my bones. It was so quiet I heard the ruffling of the bird’s wings above us as it watched with more interest than any bird should have.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied, my breath like smoke between us. “And don’t worry about the leak. I don’t have much stuff anyway.”
Mr. Moore clutched his broom and nodded. “Well, we’ll wave this month’s rent all the same. You have a nice day, young lady. Keep your wits about you. It’s October in Ash Grove.” He chuckled before rasping a cough. “Get ready for the ghosts.”
“Yes, sir.” I wrapped my robe tighter around my waist and slid into my frosty car. My gaze hesitantly went to the tree line again, despite his warning not to look. Empty. I cranked my engine and turned up the heat when a knock on my window pulled my attention. Rolling it down, I smiled. “Hi again, Mr. Moore.”
“I forgot to tell ya, this came in the mail for you yesterday.”
My heart sank into my soggy boots and a cold fear paralyzed me as I reluctantly took the letter from Mr. Moore’s veiny hand. He gave the hood of my car a friendly tap as he slowly walked to the street and began sweeping. I held the letter with a tremble. I didn’t need to open it. It would be blank. And it was from him. He knew I was here. I knew it was coming. It always did.
Shoving the envelope into my purse, I rolled out onto the street, giving my landlord a polite wave. Every moment I trailed through the fog, I felt eyes on me. It seemed that this town itself had eyes. It watched me through the crows, the shop windows, and rustle of the wind in the trees.
What would I do this time? Run again? Hide in place? I had to decide quick. Because someone was watching. Something was always watching.
People said cockroaches would survive the apocalypse. That was probably true. But I’d say diners would too. There was something about old diners that stayed the same in every small town I traversed. They were always hardy yet looked like they could collapse at any moment. Grimy even through the disinfectant shine. I slumped into a booth, clutching my second refill of coffee. My mind was blank, lost in the steam and idle chatter of the restaurant. I wasn’t safe here. I wasn’t safe anywhere. But I didn’t want to leave. For the first time, I’d landed in a place I didn’t want to flee. Something about this weird-ass town fit. Maybe its odd matched my own.