She wasn’t sure that was true. Because she had been talking every night, but the answers that came didn’t seem like they were coming from God.
With the woods dark around the clearing, and the light breaking, the moon fading, Penny hauled the bucket toward the big house.
SIX
Squeak-clink. Squeak-clink. Squeeeaaak-clink.
“Oh. My. God,” said Finley, pulling the pillow pointlessly over her head.
Squeak-clink. Squeak—clink.
When she finally yanked the pillow away, the light in her room was too bright, too golden. She’d overslept.
“Seriously?” she groaned to no one.
Her back ached like the worst sunburn or like someone had repeatedly punched her there. And she had a Rainer hangover—head pounding with regret, stomach queasy with self-recrimination. Even though nothing happened, she shouldn’t have gone to see him. Wasn’t it just really leading him on? Why was she so weak when it came to him? She reached for her phone and checked the time. If she hustled, she could go for a run, then make class. But she had no hustle that morning. None.
Instead, she got out of bed and went downstairs, still in her pajamas, still with the sound in her head. She smelled coffee. Caffeine and sugar, the answer to many of life’s problems—that’s what she needed.
“I’m still hearing it,” she called out.
When she pushed into the kitchen, Eloise was sitting at the table with Jones Cooper.
“Oh, sorry,” she said, pausing in the doorway for a second.
She thought about beating a hasty retreat to change. But then she just didn’t and continued walking over to the coffee pot instead.
She figured that Jones Cooper, retired cop turned private investigator, had probably seen a few people in their pajamas before—which in her case consisted of a black, long-sleeve tee-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants. And Finley wasn’t exactly shy. Even though she didn’t know Jones that well, there was something safe and familiar about him, like he belonged in the kitchen. He had big energy, took up a lot of space. He filled the chair he sat in and made the table look small. She felt like he could get away with wearing a cowboy hat and she wished he would.
“How was your night?” asked Eloise. She rose and came to give Finley a kiss, and to get the milk for her coffee.
“Okay,” Finley said.
Her grandmother would never ask anything further like where had she gone and whom had she seen—not like Amanda, who would already have her cornered with a hundred questions. Eloise didn’t have to; even if she didn’t know precisely where Finley had gone, she knew the nature of the encounter—good or bad, healthy or unhealthy, safe or unsafe.
“Good morning, Mr. Cooper,” said Finley, glancing over at him. She could tell it wasn’t a social call. There was a seriousness to him, a gravity, as well as a manila folder in front of him.
“Good morning, Finley,” he said. “And call me Jones.”
Finley and Jones had shared a few moments early on when she’d first moved to The Hollows, one where he told her that she was driving her bike too fast, that the consequences for careless behavior were often unforgiving. Coming from anyone else, she’d have blown it off. But after his warning, she’d slowed down for the sake of her grandmother, if not for herself. At least in town, where every-thing she did was promptly reported back to Eloise.
As she poured her coffee and put slices of bread in the toaster, the sound ceased. It took her a second to realize that Jones Cooper was the reason it was gone. She also became aware that neither Eloise nor Jones had said a word since she entered, that Jones was looking at his cup, and Eloise was watching Finley.
“Squeak-clink?” she asked her grandmother.
“Maybe,” said Eloise easily. “It’s been quiet since he got here. For me anyway.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Jones. The way he asked it suggested that he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.
“Jones has had a visit from a young mother looking for her missing daughter,” Eloise said, ignoring his question. “You might remember; it was in the news last year. The family vacationing from the city?”
“I thought it was the father,” said Finley. She came to sit at the table with them, her curiosity piqued. “That he’d disappeared with both kids. Custody thing.”
“No,” said Jones.
He opened the file, revealing a swath of papers that looked like printed articles from the web.