I smile that tight smile I reserve for my father when he thinks he knows best.“Just wanted to look at your sermon notes.Thought I might help with Sunday’s service.”
His face shifts, just once.He knows exactly what I’m looking for and what I found.
“You always were such a helper,” he says, stepping inside.“My wife speaks highly of you.”
“She used to.Before she disappeared.”Woman reappeared, in Crooked Creek, dead.
Crowley closes the door behind him, sealing us alone in the stale dark.The air shifts, heavy and wrong.Like the church itself is holding its breath.
“Paradise Falls is blessed to have you,” he murmurs.
“Won’t be blessed much longer if you’re moving girls like cattle through your ministry.”
His eyes go flat.
“Careful,” he says, stepping closer.“Words like that burn.”
“Only if they’re true.”
He’s close enough now that I smell peppermint tea and funeral flowers.The scent turns my stomach.
“You think the Kings will protect you?”he whispers.“You think Legend can save you when the roots rot beneath your feet?”
“I don’t need saving.”
“No?”He smiles without warmth.“Then why are you trembling, child?”
I hate that he notices.I hate more that he’s right.
“I ain’t scared of you,” I say.
“You should be.”
He leaves in silence, like a shadow stepping out of its own skin.
Only when the door clicks shut do my knees nearly buckle.I fist my hands until my nails cut half-moons into my palms.I can’t fall apart now.Not when I’m closer to the truth than anyone in this damned town.
Not when girls’ lives are at stake.
Back at the clubhouse, whispers turn the air poisonous.Krystal and the other girls huddle like vultures picking at scraps.Becki’s name, the Reverend’s name, rumors about lights in the woods and screams that didn’t sound human.
The word Leaper is spreading like wildfire.
I step out onto the porch with my coffee, letting the cold bite the edge of my nerves.It’s not that I’m not drinking.It’s spiked with good bourbon cream.Just need something to warm me after the ice-cold stare of the Reverend.
Royal walks past, boots heavy, shoulders tense, eyes shadowed.He looks like a man who spent the night hunting ghosts and came back without all of himself.
“Royal,” I call.
He stops, blowing a breath, like he doesn’t want to, but walks over.
“She still in the room?”
“Yeah.”
“You watching her every second?”
“Pretty much.”
