AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Kelly quit? That doesn’t sound like her. Did something happen?”
I tucked away the information that Kelly was a “she,” then pressed my lips together. “Well, now that you mention it, something happened in the graveyard.”
He frowned. “What?”
“It’s probably better if I show you.”
He leaned over and opened the passenger door. “Get in.”
I accepted his hand and awkwardly climbed up onto the bench seat of the old truck. I scanned the dated interior from the rollup window handles to the vintage radio.
He smiled. “She’s old, but she runs like a teenager.”
I smiled back. “This is the first time I’ve been in a truck.”
“No kidding? You probably drive something nice in the city.”
“I don’t have a car… or a driver’s license.”
“Ah, a city girl, through and through. Do you miss it?”
“Sometimes,” I admitted with a laugh, lifting my soiled rubber gloves. “But it’s been a nice break from…” I coughed. “It’s been a nice break.”
“Are you making progress on your novel?”
“Mm-hm.” Thankfully our arrival at the cemetery prevented me from expounding. I climbed out of the truck, then led the way into the cemetery and over to the grave of Nell Benson with the displaced slab of granite.
He grunted. “Ah, that explains why Kelly was spooked. Do you know about the folklore?”
“That the granite is there to keep the spirit in the grave? Yeah, a woman brought a tour group here and that was one of her stories. She insinuated the woman was a witch.” I studied Sawyer for his reaction, but he seemed more concerned with the condition of the stone.
“I don’t see any cracks, thank goodness. Did you see who did this?”
I hesitated. “There was a group of people here a few nights ago having some kind of ceremony. They were… wearing robes.”
His mouth turned down. “Did you recognize anyone?”
“Tilda Benson. I met her in the library.”
He nodded. “I’ve heard the rumors. This piece of rock probably weighs half a ton, so it would take several people or some kind of tool to move it. I’ll put it back with the wench.”
“Should I report it to the authorities?”
He shook his head. “No need. I’ll talk to Tilda when I see her. This witch nonsense has to stop.” His gaze flickered over me. “Before someone else gets hurt.”
He stood and stalked back to his truck to unload his equipment while my mind scrolled back to the warning the old woman Muriel had murmured about the witches coming together to mend an ages-old feud.
They will need a sacrifice.
August 4, Sunday
I HAD set my alarm for six a.m. with the intent to get a jump on my writing. But I had just opened a brand new notebook when I heard a car coming down the road. I went to the window to see a car roll by that I’d seen before, the one with the vanity license plate BNSNTWNS.
Curious as to what the teenage twin daughters of Tilda Benson would be doing in the cemetery at such an early hour, I dressed quickly and walked down to see, reasoning they might need the gate unlocked.
They had timed their arrival perfectly with the sunrise. Indeed, every woodland creature seemed to be waking up from the birds to a family of rabbits that hopped along the road in front of me before veering off to safety.
I slowed my steps as I walked up. The blonde twins had left their car and were pacing in front of the gate.
