“Are they Natives? The forest people I mean. Are they a local tribe?”
“Unknown. It would make sense, but we just don’t know.”
“Do they still exist, these forest people?”
Desmond Crane’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Why would you ask that?”
“Curiosity,” I said, glad I had the answer prepared ahead of time. “I’ve never heard of them before.”
“Most haven’t. The mentions of them disappear about ninety years ago, as far as I can tell. Few left in town that old. I only know about them because I deal with the past.”
“I see.”
“Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“I don’t think so, no,” I said, grateful for the new information. It didn’t answer everything, but it was more than I’d had before.
After thanking him for his help and promising to keep considering the position on the board of directors, Crane gave me a pair of book names I could borrow from the library, in case they might help more.
Only when I pulled into the driveway of my grandmother’s house did I realize during our entire conversation, Crane had never once consulted a book. He’d had all the answers right at hand, about a very particular time in our town’s history.
Almost like he’d been reading up on it ahead of time.
I got out of the car, deep in thought about that.
Now why would he-
My entire spine lit up, tiny pins stabbing deep with warning.
I was being watched intently. I knew it. My eyes darted to the forest out behind the house, but even as my gaze landed on the huge trees, I knew that wasn’t it. I wasn’t being watched from there. I swung my head back around, alarm growing rapidly.
The sensation was originating frominside the house.
Sylvie
It only took one step closer to the house to confirm it. The pinpricks intensified the second I tried it. Whatever danger was about, whoever was watching me, they wereinside.
I searched the windows frantically, trying to peer inside, to get an idea of who it might be. There was no identifying car in the driveway and none on the nearby street either. Whoever it was, they weren’t a known entity.
Could it be one of my uncles? Had they heard about their mother’s death and finally decided to drag themselves back out from wherever they had been? That was a possibility, but why would they not have parked in the driveway? I ruled them out. They’d been gone too long anyway. There was nothing here for them.
My search of the windows was fruitless, thanks mostly in part to the bright sun making it impossible to see through them. Whoever was inside had a prime view of me, however, which was not ideal.
The situation left me with two choices as I saw it. Option one, the stupid and reckless one, was to simply walk up to the house and go inside. Being that it was stupid and reckless, however, I discarded it, choosing instead to go with option two-run away as fast as I could.
Or in this case, drive away. I started backing toward my car, hoping whoever was inside wasn’t going to run out and chase me down. My legs twitched, ready to sprint away if that was the case, though I wasn’t much of a runner.
I hadn’t gone two steps before the front door swung slowly open, revealing an outline of the intruder. They stepped into the light, and I came to a halt, my feet riveted to the ground.
“
You
,” I hissed, my spine straight as cold anger flowed through me at his boldness. “What thehell are you doing in my grandmother’s house?”
He opened his mouth, but I cut him off with a sharp chop of my hand. “You know what, I don’t care. Leave. Now.”
There was a pause.
“No,” Lincoln replied slowly and calmly, standing at the top of the steps to the wraparound porch, folding his thickly muscled arms across his body.
My jaw dropped hard enough to make it pop. “I’m sorry,” I said, touching my ear as if to clear something from it. “Did I just hear you right? Did you just say you won’t leave?”
Another pause as he regarded me with casual confidence. “Yes.”
The arrogance grated against me, but it also highlighted that his mouth and his body were screaming two different things. He was speaking so calmly and assuredly it bordered on arrogance, but his body, despite the crossed arms, was as stiff and tight as asteel beam. He was fighting hard to be still, to keep from moving, perhaps pacing. Only his immense willpower kept him still.
Wary of the situation and not wanting to do anything to surprise the man acting like a cornered cat, I stopped myself from storming up to him and jabbing a finger in his face like I wanted to.
“Why not?” I asked instead, gathering my words after his blunt refusal to leave. “It’s not your house. You don’t belong here.”
His icy blue eye twitched ever so slightly at those last words, but otherwise there was no reaction. An even longer pause settled between us.
“Because,” he said at last with teeth-grating slowness, staring right at me as he spoke, his two-toned gaze never wavering, “we need to talk.”
That was a most unexpected reply. Yet the admission was not enough to excuse him for what he’d done.
“If you want to talk, Lincoln, you need to do what normal people do these days. Send me a text message so I can read it and ignore it until I’m ready to reply. Nowleave.”
Lincoln shook his head.
“Am I going to have to call the sheriff to get him to remove you from the property?” I threatened.
“You won’t do that.”
I raised a finger at him. “You better believe I will! You broke in to my grandmother’shouse
!” I was shouting at him now. “That’s a textbook reason to call!”
How dare he violate the property of a dead woman like that? That was bothering me the most, I realized. His desecration of her house. Of the only thing I had left of her. The lack of care, of respect, for the woman who had once lived here.
“You won’t call,” he rumbled as I pulled my phone from my purse.
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