“I’m sorry.” There were no words for the loss or the choking reach of its tentacles.
“We do the best we can.” As if deciding he’d had enough gloom, Ryan stood. “It’s good to have you back, Eve, even if only for a short while. I’ll tell Caden to drop by tomorrow morning.”
She walked him to the door, thankful to have encountered a familiar face. It had been a stroke of luck to learn Caden was a contractor. It would save her the trouble of looking for someone to do the repairs and speed the sale of the house that much more quickly.
“What about Sarah?” she asked as he stepped onto the front porch. Eve stayed inside on the threshold, a breeze scuttling past her like an uninvited guest. “Does she still live in town?”
He nodded. “She works in the records division at the courthouse. We had a bad situation there several years back. I’m not sure if Rosie told you about the bomb blast.”
She had. A suicidal ex-convict had forced his way inside with a shotgun and a homemade explosive device. Despite attempts at negotiation, the bomber had leveled the entire first floor, killing three and injuring six others. After hearing about it, Eve had called her aunt to make sure she was safe.
“Another tragedy in a town plagued by them,” Aunt Rosie had said. “Fools around here are saying it’s the curse of Cornstalk come to blight us again.”
“I saw it on the news when it happened,” Eve told Ryan. At the time, she’d wondered if it was in some way connected to the Mothman. She didn’t believe in the curse of Cornstalk, an Indian chief who’d been murdered in the days preceding the American Revolution. Local legend said he’d cursed the town with his dying breath. You couldn’t grow up in Point Pleasant without having the shadow of that legend leech into every event that took place.
“Sarah wasn’t hurt, was she?” Cold fear gripped her stomach as she thought of her childhood friend.
“No, she wasn’t working then, but we lost a lot of good people. Strange how things keep happening in this town.” He raised a hand in farewell. “Stay in touch, Eve. Don’t leave without saying goodbye.”
She stayed at the door, closing it only after he’d driven off in his police cruiser. The emptiness of the house settled over her with a marked hush, and she wondered how Aunt Rosie had managed living there on her own for so many years. Then again, like the hotel, the house was part of Parrish history.