“That’s great, but aren’t you supposed to be writing?”
“Not every minute of every day, and I love reading,” she said. “And there are things I had forgotten, or at least not thought about in ages, things I never had a solid opinion on. But I’ll tell you about it later. How about you? Have you come up with anything new?” she asked anxiously.
“No, but I’m having that get-together tonight. We’re going to meet at Jack’s house.”
“Oh. Do you want me to drive myself there? I just need to know the address.”
“No,” he told her quickly. “I’ll pick you up. About six. Is that all right?”
“Yes, definitely,” she told him.
*
It was 5:45 p.m., and Devin was ready, armed with a number of books from the collection that she, her aunt and her parents had acquired over the years. She planned to share them with Rocky at the right time—and with others, if a question arose.
Auntie Mina had been around most of the day. Poe had gotten accustomed to the fact that Aunt Mina was there, yet not really there. He had grown fond of sitting on Devin’s shoulder, which made her grateful that Aunt Mina had rescued the bird a long time ago, when he’d been very young, and trained him well.
In fact, Poe was far better trained than the puppy she’d rescued when she was four. Her parents had lovingly tended to the little mutt, but the poor thing had never really mastered control of his bladder. But then, he’d been riddled with worms and other parasites when she’d found him and spent his first weeks at the vet. Pup—she hadn’t been even slightly creative with his name—had died the year before she left for college. She still missed him.
Even with Poe there, Devin felt alone in the cottage. Auntie Mina had recently faded out while sitting on the sofa and watching her beloved reruns of Frasier.
She’d spent most of the day reading, trying to make sense of her dream, which had continued to plague her throughout the day. Most of what she read was information she’d known—or at least known about. There was quite a dispute about the real location of Gallows Hill. Historian Sydney Perley had determined early in the twentieth century that it couldn’t possibly be where it was “officially” located, the current recreational area. She was sure a copy of the map Perley had used or created for his thesis had to exist, but she couldn’t find it online.
She’d called Brent to see if he knew where she could locate a copy. He’d been busy but had promised to see if he could come up with it. Of course, he’d wanted to know why.
“Your tour last night,” she told him. “It got me intrigued with the city again.”
“Now that I think about it, you were a little too good,” he said. “Don’t become my competition.”
“Not a chance,” she assured him.
The day had passed quickly, and having Aunt Mina there had been somehow reassuring.
But now Aunt Mina was gone and it felt as if time was crawling.
She glanced at her watch: 5:50 p.m. Rocky would be there soon. She picked up her keys, ready to lock the house.
And that was when she saw a face at the window.
The same face Auntie Mina had seen. The face of the woman Rocky had tried to catch up to the night before.
The woman who wanted to speak...
To her.
The woman stared in at Devin.
Devin stared back at her.
Then the woman turned away.
“Wait!” Devin cried, having no idea if she could be heard or not.
She set down the pile of books and headed to the door, throwing it open and rushing out.
“Hello?”
The woman was nowhere to be seen. As Devin desperately looked around, she saw her.
A fleeting remnant of her in her dark Puritan garb and her white cap...
Disappearing. Disappearing into the canopy of the trees.
Devin hurried after her, trying to see through the green darkness under the canopy of the trees, the little clump of woods between her house and her neighbor.
“Hello? Please, I’m here—please, talk to me.” Forgetting all about personal safety, she headed for the trees. “Hello?”
No response. She heard nothing. She saw nothing.
“Please, I’m trying to help you. And we need you. We need you, and I believe that you’re trying to talk to me.”
A strange shimmer shifted the air around her. It was almost as if the air itself had turned to forest green. And yet the sun hadn’t fallen, and little dapples of light made their way through the leaves.
She realized she’d walked deeply into the stand of pines and oaks. Even as she called herself a fool and started back, she heard a rustling in the woods.
What, she asked herself, had she done?
Walked out like an idiot.
She winced, trying to swallow her fear and berating herself for her sheer stupidity in her eagerness to reach the disappearing specter.
She stood dead still, thinking maybe she’d imagined the sound.