Chapter 12 #2
I laughed. “Sure, if you want to lose.”
“You’ve got to have more than…” Rae tugged on the hem of my top, inspecting the cotton. There was a lump in my throat as she examined me. I stood straighter, trying to seem worthy of close observation. “Workwear.”
“Why would you assume that?”
“Your walls are littered with K-pop bands,” she said. “I even saw a box of Polaroids of them in your closet.”
“Photo cards. They’re called photo cards. And it’s just a…fandom thing.” I tugged on my sleeves. “I used to be big into collecting when I had the disposable income and headspace. What does that have to do with my clothes?”
“The one you had the most of was a group dressed in old western clothes. You’re telling me you never went to one of their concerts?”
“Never.”
Her smile dropped. “Seriously?”
“I had the cash for photo cards, but concerts are expensive.”
“Would you go to one now?”
I squinted. “Why?”
“I don’t know, just trying to figure out what gets Octavia Daniel excited.”
Then you better bite another one of those peaches.
“Again, why?”
“I told you, my job’s making sure you’re grounded.
Anchored. As relaxed as possible.” Rae adopted a lower, more somber tone.
“Your fear can and will make the clock go faster on this ghost. Those photo cards seemed to make you happy at one point. I think a little dressing up and going out could do the same. Give the team more time to figure out a solution.”
“Playing dress-up isn’t going to calm my anxiety.”
“And how do you know that?” She held the tickets up again. “I’m thinking we find something to match. What do you say? Join my group?”
I groaned while she laughed.
“And prance around in front of a town of strangers? Yeah, no. A thousand dollars isn’t enough to buy my pride,” I said. “Now, come on. We should head to the library and check in with the others. It’s getting dark.”
I moved to untie Frog.
“Sure. We’ll put a pin in this!” Rae beamed and went to Kat.
I led us back onto the main road, scanning the darkened storefronts, hoping to find something to distract Rae.
There was nothing but tumbleweeds and small groups of night walkers.
Thankfully, the ride to the library only took a few minutes.
And Rae didn’t find the need to probe me about matching denim.
“Are we running with this friend thing for a reason?” She dismounted in tandem with me when we stopped in front of the library.
Rae was a quick learner. I did my best not to stare at her ass while she did so.
Her business slacks didn’t hinder movement in the slightest. How the hell did she find time to get something tailored when she was always on the go?
“I’m not exactly hurrying to tell the public my ranch has…problems. I need to reach for a boarding business. Good news only.”
“Fair enough.” She gestured to the large RV taking up three parking spaces in the six-space lot. “So what story should I pass on to the crew? Are they also old friends? And how do we explain the…robust vehicle?”
Damn it. It would be hard to come up with a solid story for this many new people. Heaven forbid someone looked up their names—an inevitability.
“For now, tell them you’re in the construction business,” I decided. “Try not to give them your last name. No one’s tech savvy enough in these parts to narrow down an identity off first names and vibes.”
“Do you underestimate your fellow Alpiners?”
“I don’t like umbrella terms; it hints of me being part of a collective.”
“Do you think you’re a lone wolf because of hopping from place to place as a kid? Or is it your natural state of being?”
“Born from town hopping, now my natural state of being,” I said simply.
“Ever wondered about the other side?”
“Of what?”
“Lone wolf-hood.” She pointed to their RV. “It’s quite cozy; I could give you a tour.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” I started up the library steps, and she followed.
Alpine’s library was once a bank. They redesigned the interior substantially, making it resemble a typical, stuffy library, and included rows of towering wooden bookshelves and old computers with chunky gray monitors.
I’d been in here once when I needed to fax the ranch’s deed to the state. Much like then, now the space was low-lit and empty. The buzzing of a space heater and the weight of our footsteps may as well have been a rock band’s final set.
In the back, the bank’s old vault doors remained. The door was open, and its interior held an extensive DVD and Blu-ray collection. Rae eyed them with budding interest.
“They’re over there.” I urged her to focus.
She blinked, nodding as she took the lead.
Jonah chewed on the cap of his pen. He stood behind a seated Nico, who was typing so fast his fingers were a blur. It was a surprise to find Esther in the seat beside them, her gaze focused on the screen.
“So?” Rae grabbed a chair from another desk, placing it next to Nico’s. But instead of sitting down, she gestured for me to claim it. I hesitated, but she’d already moved on, grabbing another seat for herself.
“How’s it looking?” Rae settled in behind me, releasing a nearly inaudible sigh of relief as she folded her ankle over her thigh and massaged it.
“Looking up,” Nico said with a smile and a slight stretch. “Thanks to yours truly. So, get this: Elmwood’s traded hands about a dozen times in the past few decades.”
He held his hand up for the weathered notebook Jonah held. Nico opened it, revealing pages filled with scratchy handwriting.
“But only one owner died on the property. This was before it was called Elmwood.” Nico flipped through what I now could see was a logbook.
“Where’d you find that?” I leaned closer, noting the thin pages and faded pencil marks. The book looked like it should be under glass at a museum with a steel plate No Touching sign hanging above it.
“There’s an entire shelf of them in the back,” Esther said. “They’re handwritten records. Everything from old property sales to wedding announcements.”
“A scrapbook of data,” Rae mused. “Makes our job easier.”
“There are over two hundred of them.” Esther nudged her chin to the back wall of books stacked underneath the Collections sign.
“From what I can tell, there may be some missing pieces. Lost years. But there’s enough here for a good start.” Nico handed the book to Rae for closer inspection. “And only one who seems like a red flag.”
“Who died?” I asked.
Nico pointed to Jonah, who quickly filled in, “Thomas Arnold. He was forty-one.”
“And he?” Nico prompted, pointing to Esther next.
“Was a game hunter with a lot of debt. So, a lot of enemies,” she said.
Rae frowned at her friend, but he smiled back. “What? I’m teaching the next generation.”
“Just continue.” She gestured to the computer. “What’s all this?”
On the screen, there was a collection of photos on a site called Glimpse of the Past. The website’s design was clunky, with large text and colorful banners. The interface needed a serious update, a relic of the early 2000s.
A blurry photo of a man with a crew cut and overalls stood in front of the familiar trees that were in my front yard. He had a rifle in one hand and a dead fox in the other. The grin he wore was wide, complete with an overbite and a sharp canine tooth.
Nico looked at me. “Do you know him?”
I laughed under my breath. “No, I don’t know a man from the…eighties? Why does this photo look so old?”
The clothes he wore reminded me of outfits from those old rom-coms my mom used to rewatch. Actors from the fifties on a black-and-white screen.
“Why do they let you ride horses into town?” Nico asked. “People seem to like simple things around here.”
“I know an Arnold,” Esther said.
We all looked at her. She readjusted in her seat, pulling a knee to her chest.
“He lives on Main Street,” she said softly. While everyone else spoke in normal voices, Esther was the only one who respected the library’s quiet expectations. We had to lean in to listen. “Used to teach music at the middle school. He’s nice. Now he plays nights at the bar.”
“You wouldn’t know if they have a family plot at the cemetery off the top of your head, would you?” Nico asked, only half-teasing.
Esther nodded. She had lived here her entire life.
“All the local families do,” she said.
“Cemetery’s right around the corner,” Nico said just as Rae was opening her mouth to ask.
I frowned, confused that Rae gave Nico’s shoulder a squeeze in approval. “What does that mean?”
“We’re convinced this thing’s a vengeful spirit,” Nico said. “Its anger is directed at you because it understands you own the land now. You are in charge, taking over their place after they had to let it go prematurely.”
“Prematurely?” I asked.
“He was murdered on the property,” Jonah said in a whisper, as if someone was listening.
“Okay, sure, but how do you know it’s this Arnold guy who’s haunting the place?”
The land of Elmwood had nearly a century of history. Surely there were a multitude of deaths on the property, both reported and unreported. On purpose and accidentally.
“We don’t, but I would haunt any and everything if I went out like he did.” Nico opened another window and tilted the computer screen in my direction.
1986, at around 1:30 a.m, the local butcher, suspecting his wife and Thomas Arnold were sleeping together, used a set of carving knives to ensure Arnold’s demise.
“Jesus.” I flinched at the photo paired with the article, a gruesome shot of blood and knives on a living room floor.
“It’s not an exact science,” Rae said. “But it’s a start. This is the most brutal death on record?”
She paused for Nico to clarify. He pointed at Jonah and Esther, who offered a shy chorus of yeses.
“So, we run with it because odds are, this is our guy.” Rae gestured to the photo. “Not many people get…”
“Got like that?” Nico finished.
I was having trouble swallowing with that photo still on the screen and motioned for him to change the window.