“No.” The way she shakes her head seems a little mechanical, but I detect a trace of indignation before she squashes it. “This was my mistake.”
Her gaze flicks to my tattoo again, my sleeve still pushed up.
The intimidation factor suddenly doesn’t make me feel as good as before.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not great at this landlord thing. That’s why I had Mrs. Griffith.” She moves past me to the door. “I read you loud and clear, though. No more surprises. No sign of mice yet either, so just… yeah, just enjoy your day.”
I can feel the burning intensity in my eyes as I watch her go.
5
HAUNTED HOUSE (MARGOT)
You’re looking at the smoothest girl ever.
Ha.
That couldn’t have gone down worse if I’d decided to make a blueberry pie and whacked him square in the face with it.
I lean against the wall of my room, hand against my chest, heart still racing.
Honestly, it might’ve been better if Ihadpied him. It might’ve distracted him from finding me obviously creeping on his turf.
If he wasn’t suspicious before, he sure is now.
He was also a total domineering asshole, up in my face, angry tattoo bristling, but I can’t even blame him.
The man had Army written all over before he flashed his ink and storming testosterone. A riptide of violence in his eyes, like he’ll doanythingto protect his kids.
Yes, I had it coming.
I should’ve waited until they left to go into town or something before sleuthing around. Getting caught was hilariously preventable, especially when I had an inkling of how he could react.
Very badly.
And again, completely justified.
I think he saw right through my little mice story.
Therewasa mouse problem here in the past. That just wasn’t the reason why I went poking around.
Ugh.
Why couldn’t PopPop have justtoldme what I’m supposed to be looking for?
Or at least hinted where it is.
Now, I’m shooting in the dark and missing every target.
I’ve retreated to my room with the fairy lights on and the fading sunlight streaming in.
I feel ridiculous for ever thinking there might be some trapdoor or secret passage in the house.
I mean, I wouldn’t put it past Gramps to make a big show of whatever he’s hiding. I still don’t know what kind of ‘priceless memento’ he left my little cousin Cleo. But I’m glad that’s her problem, considering how stressful this house is.
I slide down the wall and crouch on the floor, my hands in my hair.
God, if he was here right now, he’d laugh at me.
