Page 20 of Buried in the Woods Below

“Oh my,” says my mom, covering her mouth.

I freeze in place, my skin tingling, wondering if I’m imagining things. Heathcliff barks, and Laelynn holds him back with both hands. Eric sprints to the door, snatches the note, crunches it in his fist, and pockets it. He quickly replaces it with a warm grin but can’t wash the flush from his countenance.

He turns to us and waves us forward. “Don’t worry about that. It—uh—it looks worse than it is. Long story. I’ll tell you about it over drinks.”

Laelynn starts to speak, but he twitches his head, and she shuts her mouth. I notice her fingers strangling Heathcliff’s leash.

“Home sweet home,” he says, opening the door and ushering us in with an open hand.

My mom and I frown at each other but say nothing. Now isn’t the time. We follow them into the house.

At first glance, the place seems beautiful—curated, even. Like a model home. The foyer gleams with polished oak floors and navy-blue walls, stately and composed, lined with framed historical photos of Big Island. In the living room, baby-blue wallpaper stitched with delicate anchors wraps the walls in coastal charm. Floor-to-ceiling windows open onto a postcard-perfect view of the lake. Two caramel leather club chairs, soft and slouching with use, flank a white sectional like they’ve been waiting for us. The kitchen is showstopping—an emerald-green island topped with thick marble, a copper range hood gleaming overhead, a towering paneled fridge humming quietly in the corner. On a small chalkboard, Laelynn has written the dinner menu from earlier tonight in careful script.

But beneath all the charm, the house tells an older story. You can sense it in the uneven swell of the floorboards, the bowed ceiling beams, the hush that falls between footsteps. The railing is too smooth, worn down by hands no one mentions. A trace of smoke lingers in the air, long since baked into the walls. Even the basement exhales must from another era. It’s like the past is trying to force its way through. A house layered over a house. Painted over, polished, but not forgotten.

The mysterious paper nailed to the front door only adds to my discomfort.

My mom and the Parkers walk me to the guest room, then head to the patio while I settle in. It’s a cozy little nook at the front of the house with a four-poster bed and mullioned windows. It would be perfect were it not for the fact that someone’s nailing threatening notes to the door twenty feet from where I sleep. As I get my bearings, my mind spins with questions about the note.

Who left it?

Why was Eric so quick to snatch it?

Why didn’t he want Laelynn to talk about it?

And most importantly, does this have anything to do with me?

Chapter 10

“Knock, knock,” says a voice I haven’t heard for years, and yet, I’d know it anywhere.

I swivel toward the doorway and see Olivia.

She’s framed by the hallway light, barefoot in a white tent dress that flutters around her like gauze. Her thick braids hang over her shoulders, glossy and black, and her earthy eyes are lit with that same old glint: trouble and joy, wrapped into one. She looks just as I remember her. Same bouncy cheeks and paper-white smile. Her body is lean and defined like her mother’s, but her face is soft and kind like her father’s. She shines.

My grin is so sudden and wide my jaw clicks. I close the distance and throw my arms around her. She hugs back hard, the breath whooshing out of me as she squeezes like she’s making sure I’m real.

When she pulls back, she holds me at arm’s length, eyes sparkling. “Look at you,” she says, tugging on her hair. “All tall and skinny. Girl, you look like a damn model.”

I peer at my pale legs and burned forearm and wonder if she’s looking at the same thing I’m looking at.

“Hardly. You look the same though.”

“You mean gorgeous? Stunning?” She twirls, cocks her head back, her dress fanning, and flips her braids dramatically.

I laugh. An old laugh. The kind I’d thought I’d forgotten. “Exactly.”

She grins, her eyes crinkling. “Oh man. It’s so good to see you.”

Something inside me settles. “You too.”

She leans in conspiratorially. “I heard there was a lovely welcome note on the front door for you this evening.”

“Um, yeah.” I raise an eyebrow. “I thought my ex-boyfriend might be in town.”

She snorts. “Sorry about that. Big Island is…interesting.”

“How interesting are we talking?”