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Something in his eyes made me wonder if his childhood had been chaotic, like mine. “Do you have family around here?”
He shook his head. “My family’s all in Atlanta. I used to come here with a buddy to hunt, so when it came time to settle down, I bought a place here.”
I wet my lips. “Settle down? So there’s a wife and kids?”
He laughed. “No. I live alone.” He took a drink from his cup, then cleared his throat. “I would ask the same, but…”
“But you read about my engagement to a con man online?”
“I don’t believe everything I read, especially on social media.”
I sighed. “You can in this case.”
“Sounds like a guy who needs to be punched in the face.”
“Yeah, but didn’t you read all the comments? I deserved it.”
“No one deserves that kind of betrayal,” he said, then abruptly pushed to his feet. “I should get back to work.”
“Oh, right,” I said, then downed the rest of my tea and stood.
He handed me back the cup. “Thanks for the break. I just need to finish this today. I have reservist duty next weekend and I don’t want this to sit for too long.”
“I understand,” I said.
I gathered the thermos and walked back to my bike, then rode back to the house, massaging at a pinging sensation in my chest. I reasoned it was the caffeine in the tea kicking in.
It couldn’t be… anything else.
July 15, Monday
IT WAS more foggy than usual when I walked to the graveyard to unlock the gate. It had rained overnight, and the mist enveloped me past my tall leather boots. When I reached the graveyard, it looked as if it was boiling, with rolling wisps rising from the ground and licking at the gravestones. As I unlocked the gate, I heard a noise and startled to see a shrouded figure standing a few feet away in the road.
“Howdy,” the woman said. She wore a broad-brim hat, a long sleeve tunic, and pants stuffed into rugged boots. She held a tall walking stick upright and carried a sling bag. “Who’re you?”
“I’m Josephine,” I ventured. “I’m staying at the Whisper House. Can I help you?”
She scoffed. “You need to help yourself.”
“Excuse me?”
“That house is cursed. Bad things happen to people who stay there.”
I had news for her—bad things had happened to me before I came to the house. “What do you mean?”
“You deaf girl? Bad things.”
I frowned. “I heard you, I just don’t believe you.”
“Neither did Rose.”
A finger of fear nudged the back of my neck. “You knew Rose?”
“I know everyone round these parts.” The woman laughed, revealing she had no teeth. “I’m older than the trees.”
And a little touched in the head, no doubt. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Muriel. I’m a picker.”
