“Call me Quill.” Quill grins again, that unnerving show of teeth, as the door clicks shut, leaving James with the dead moths, snared catching a pretty light.
Maybe Quill’s not so bad. Odd, but not evil. Just a poor reputation with the neighborhood kids, the “wicked old man” backin the woods. Standoffish vibe. Tragic backstory. Lives alone, or so they all thought.
James tries to ignore the eerie rustling pines as he drives away from 23 Blackwood Road. Then he remembers Quill’s words:Homework?Nelle didn’t mention college.
Wait.Daughter?
Chapter 4
The pungent smell of vinegar barbecue hits the patio of Lindsey’s Smokehouse, one of the only restaurants on Lincoln’s square. James sifts through his pulled pork and tries to listen to his cousin Jessie talk about living in New York, the paid sponsorship she just got, the collectors buying her paintings, how glad she is that her sucky roommate’s moving out next week, the friend she met who is unnaturally hotandsmart and could possibly, fingers crossed, turn into more.
“Half the week I go to a little studio in Brooklyn to paint,” Jessie says. “I swear it’s like a scam. I get to do what I love, and these suckers arebuyingit.” Her hair is frizzy from the heat and tied back in a ponytail. She wipes a smudge of hot sauce off her cheek. Two years ago, Jessie’s artwork blew up on social media. Since then she has had an influx of commissions and people with too much money and empty walls scrabbling to clean out her shows, and brands constantly paying her to come to their events, to use their paint, to post a picture with their energy drink. “Every now and then, though, I pick up a shift at the place I worked in college. This tiny little bookshop, Shack O’ Books. You’d love it.”
“Mm-hmm.” James leans on his fist, staring up at Lindsey’s dusty storefront. A car vrooms behind him in the town square. It’s been only two days since his visit to 23 Blackwood Road, and he can’t forget the shell of Nelle he saw in that kitchen.
Jessie continues. “I also have my internship, which isn’t great because it’s unpaid labor,butI’m making unbelievable connections. Not just Lena, though she’s definitely a perk of the job. She’s really studious, which isn’t normally my type, you know. But she just got a job working at some corporate law firm, so she’ll probably leave the program soon, and when she’s out, I’m out. I’m only doing it as an excuse to spend time with her.”
“Mm-hmm.” James tries to remember what she said, but her words are mush in his brain. He shoots in the dark with, “Then what?”
A crumpled straw wrapper bounces off his forehead.
“Ouch.”
“Come back to earth please,” Jessie says. “If you need to talk, talk. But don’t leave me rambling. You know I’ll go on forever.”
“It’s nothing,” he says.
“My flight back is in eight hours, so you have about six left to receive my wise counsel.”
He sets his fork down. “I met someone.”
Jessie swirls her straw. “Intrigued.”
“She was here on the Fourth of July, and on Monday I stopped by her house—”
“Where does she live?”
“Blackwood Road.”
“Name?”
“Nelle. Nelle Quill, I guess.”
Jessie purses her lips. “She lives here? I’ve never heard of her.”
“Me, neither,” James says. “She didn’t give me a phone number, just her address. So I go see her, and Wallace Quill opens the door. He says she’s his daughter, that she has to finish her homework, but I never heard about him having another kid after the accident with his family. And when I come in, he has this aura about him. Like he wants to pick apart my ribs and use each one as a bow for his violin.”
“Gruesome, but okay. Don’t most dads have that ‘Oh, this is my daughter and you’re not allowed to even think about her’ look?”
“This was different,” James shakes his head. “Nelle was in the kitchen. I could see her. But ... she wouldn’t move. She was trembling ... and the way he talked about her ...” Even in the ninety-degree heat, chills break out across James’s arms. “I can’t describe it, but I think something bad is happening in that house.”
“Do you want my advice?”
He sighs. “Yes.”
“Stay out of it,” Jessie says. “If something weird is going on, trust me, you don’t want to get involved. Call the police, and they’ll take care of it.”
“No.” His heart hammers at the thought of abandoning Nelle in unknown peril.
