I pause. I’ve never seen this guy before. I’d remember his gigantic forehead. I glance over my shoulder at the general store, feeling someone’s eyes on me again. A young waiter carries a black serving tray with three white mugs, and she must feel my eyes on her, because she glances at me. And freezes. Her mouth falls open, and the serving tray drops to the ground. Someone cries out when the mugs shatter, spilling coffee and thick slices of porcelain everywhere. Coffee splashes all over her smart black shoes, but she doesn’t even flinch. Her eyes never leave mine. A moment later, the entire general store falls silent. My skin prickles as a dozen pairs of eyes fall on me.
The forehead guy slings a forearm up, shielding his eyes from the sun. We both stare at the waiter as she says something to a black-haired woman with a pixie cut, who nods grimly. When the guy turns back around, he studies me. He sucks in a breath, holds it.
“I’m so sorry,” he stammers, red-faced. “I thought you were…”
Amanda.
I clutch my car keys. “Who did you think I was?” My voice comes out unnaturally high.
But he mumbles something into his chest and scurries away, half running now.
“Wait!” I yell it too loud, and even the dog walkers look up with interest. “Who did you think I was?”
He tucks his head low and keeps going, leaving me all alone. My palms itch with sweat, and nobody even has the decency to look away. They study me silently, eyes cold and mean. They know who Amanda is. Everyone in this damn town is keeping secrets from me.
The street that was bustling only moments ago falls into a hushed silence. Even the birds seem to be holding their breath. Sweat gathers at the back of my knees. This is a fucking nightmare.
Panicked, I fling the car door open and jump in. Reaper’s frantic and anxious in the front seat, clawing at the wire, pupils wide and dark. I fumble with the keys, heart pounding as I start the engine up.
My tires squeal as I race out of the parking lot. I keep my eyes on the road as I drive past the general store, but it makes no difference.
Darren’s words race through my mind.
They’re watching you.
CLEAR, CRASS, AND OUT OF CONTROL:
BEACON RESIDENTS TELL OF UGLY INCIDENT INVOLVING SARAHSLADE
July 3
ABC News, Melbourne
It’s been less than 24hours since the discovery of a second body at Black Wood House. Police are still tight-lipped on the identities, admitting, “We’re having trouble locating the families.”
But it’s becoming more and more likely that they may belong to current owners, Sarah Slade and husband, Joe Cosgrove. According to colleagues, Cosgrove hasn’t shown up to his bartending job at Seventy-Seven pub since last week.
Mercy Community, where Slade works as a self-development therapist, hasn’t responded for comment.
Friends describe Slade as “ambitious” and Cosgrove as “a humble guy, with a kind word for everyone.”
But in new developments, it seems that neither Cosgrove nor his famous wife was very popular with Beacon residents, a close-knit, exclusive community in rural Victoria.
In fact, Beacon residents have described an ugly incident involving Slade at a town meeting, just two weeks before the first body was discovered.
“She showed up to the meeting, drunk,” a resident revealed. “She absolutely lost it and started screaming her head off at everyone.”
“She was making horrible accusations,” another resident said, “accusing one of her neighbors of harassment and poisoning her cat.”
It’s believed Slade was particularly angry with one longtime resident who has not been named.
“She said he’d broken into her house.”
It’s believed that Slade was then escorted out and told she was banned from attending any further town meetings. The first body was discovered at her property two weeks later.
But before she was escorted out of the meeting, she apparently made a chilling statement.
“She said he was going to pay for what happened to her cat. She was mad enough to kill someone.”
