Nadine bristled. Hearing Noelle’s married name spoken aloud like that jarred her. So did the woman’s entitlement. “I didn’t know that it mattered.”
“Where you come from matters a lot up here.” She bagged up Nadine’s groceries, dropping everything in so emphatically that Nadine worried the apples would bruise. “It’s isolated. The weather can be brutal. Folks like to know who they can and can’t trust when the power goes, and they can’t see who’s at their back.”
Her tone left little question over which side she thought Nadine fell on that regard, and the image it painted was so chilling that she found it hard to rally a defense for herself.
(Bad day to be out and about if you’re on anyone’s bad side)
“Are you saying they’re dangerous?”
“I’m not saying anything.” As she handed over Nadine’s change, she added, as a parting shot, “Not that it seems to matter. Folks have already seen you running around with Cal Cullraven. I warned you about those boys.”
I don’t need you to warn me, Nadine thought defiantly.I can worry plenty on my own, thanks.
When she left with her groceries, she pointedly did not say goodbye.
???????
She had finally managed to get the wi-fi password from Jessica and as soon as she did, her phone froze, it was so backed up from notifications. She had several texts from Nikki, three worried, one relieved (she had liked the picture of the gnome). In addition to her email and Instagram, there were also some push notifications from the web alert she had set up about the Cullravens, almost all of which were related to the upcoming festival.
Which, of course, made her remember the cab driver’s ominous references to “accidents.”
Maybe Noelle’s ominous note was related to something that had happened at a previous festival. In a town this small, that would be unlikely to make a larger news publication, but maybe the town kept its own records. She felt stupid for not thinking of that before.
She went to the civic center after one of her food runs, glancing warily at the statue of Caledon Cullraven. Ever since she had that nightmare, she’d felt uneasy in its presence. The family’s creepy worship of him and his even creepier house didn’t help.
There had to be some stories there, she thought. You could write an entire essay about that fucked-up deer statue they had out in their courtyard. No wonder people thought the sons dragged girls out to the woods like wild satyrs. But when she went inside the building, she found out Argentum didn’t have a library. Not much of one, anyway. There was just a rickety shelf filled with books that anyone cared to leave there (mostly romance novels, Nadine couldn’t help but notice).
“If you’re looking for something specific, we can get it through inter-library loan,” the director of media outreach assured her. “We’re considered a satellite branch of Plata County. But it might take a while for anything to get here.”
“I was hoping for local newspapers or maybe, um, personal records? Diaries?”
“Oh, well. You’ll want to speak to Deena or Erick about that.”
The city manager—a Black woman in a mulberry-colored pantsuit—was a little more helpful. She suggested the county clerk—Erick—but then added that he was on vacation and wouldn’t be back for two weeks.
“What do you do if you need the records while he’s gone?”
The woman laughed. “Play a game of telephone until we find out who’s got the keys.”
FIND THE GREEN BOOK
COUNT THE SPARROWS
So much for the green book, Nadine thought. If only someone would handherthe key.
As for the sparrows, there were sparrows everywhere—the reddish ones with feathers the color of fox fur. Far too many to count, though she suspected that wasn’t what Noelle meant.
With her options dwindling, Nadine finally went to go see the sheriff. His office was at the end of the street, just past the sharp bend in the road that led up to Ravensgate. Gideon Crocker looked a lot like his son, Rael, but with darker hair and fewer freckles. His office had been consciously designed to look like a cross between a log cabin and a man cave, with a rather ravaged-looking deer head mounted on the wall.
“Great-grandfather shot that,” he said, as soon as he caught her looking at it. “Twenty-point buck. Eighteen-eighty-one. Put up quite the fight, too.”
Something about the glassy eyes frightened her. They looked almost alive. She turned her attention instead to the large collection of photographs weighing down his desk. In addition to the usual wedding photos, and pictures of him and his family on vacation, there was one of a teenage Rael in a hockey uniform, standing on what appeared to be a frozen lake. Beside him was a young Cal, holding the stick in one hand and looking rather fiercely into the camera.
I guess his hair always had that curl to it, she thought, staring. “How long ago was this?”
“Ten years ago,” he said. “Their senior year. They’ve been friends for over twenty years.”
So he’s twenty-eight years old, thought Nadine.Seven years older than me.“Impressive.”
