“The wife.” My body freezes, my heart thumping wildly because a news story I remember seeing long ago starts piecing together. “Those poor kids. I can’t image what they’ve gone through the past several years without parental guidance.” She follows my line of sight, shaking her head as we lock eyes on the gate. “They are seen around town but mostly keep to themselves now.”
“Surly, the orchard is still running…”
Her high-pitched laugh pierces my ears. “Of course it is! This orchard is one of the many reasons Cedar Creek Cove does so well. The Lindenvales are millionaires. Their apples are seen in every market and grocery store from here to the East Coast.”
My lips twist to the side in thought. Rossco pulls at the leash and licks up her pant leg, tired of remaining obedient and still in a stranger’s presence. I completely forgot he was here. Weirdly enough, seeing this place and interaction has made my brain hazy.
She reaches down, scratching him behind the ears, and he wags his tail hectically in appreciation.
“But they must have workers—packagers…people to run the machinery. Right?”
She straightens. “Sure do, but the packaging headquarters is off the property. As far as I know, there is a machinery barn for the workers somewhere on the 5,120-acre property. Besides them and the workers coming in and out, that gate always remains closed.”
Holy shit.
My jaw flops open, my accidental outburst making her jump. “Over 5,000 acres of apple trees?”
“No, no, dear. The house sits on a hill and is directly in the center of one mile of apple trees in each direction. The rest is forest all the way up to their fence line. It’s quite a remarkableplot of land, if you ask me. I believe the backside drops down to the banks of the Columbia, but I’ve never seen it. There is a reason why a lot of people covet the property.”
“Well, who owns it now? You know—since the husband is in prison.”
Her chest rises and falls in annoyance, hinting that she is getting fed up with all my questions.
“Grandma,” a voice calls. “I have breakfast ready.”
Simultaneously, both of our heads shift in the direction of her house. Waiting on her front porch is a man. He must be in his mid-twenties because of his smooth skin, facial hair, and build.
“My grandson,” she informs. “We are in town visiting him for the week. I should go.”
She begins to walk away from me, but I shout, “Wait!” Her body goes rigid in anticipation. I swallow. “Who owns it now?”
Images of last night flicker through my mind. My neighborhood is only a few miles away, but this town is small. I’d like to know who I’m sharing it with.
Or, more accurately, what monsters I’m sharing it with.
She glances at me over her shoulder, her eyes flashing with a fusion of warning and amusement. “Welcome to Cedar Creek Cove.”
THREE | TARYN
My truck rolls to a stop in one of the parking spaces in front of Cedar Creek Elementary’s two-story brick building. The freshly manicured lawn meets a blue-and-red climbing structure with slides, swings, monkey bars, and a basketball court, surrounded by red alders and maple trees.
The sidewalk leads to a set of double doors surrounded by massive glass windows.
The corners of my mouth lift upward.
I can see myself here.
Unlike the last school I attended, this one looks well-kept. They care, hopefully meaning they value their kids and teachers, too.
I turn off the ignition, taking notice of the brand-new-looking black Ford a few spaces away from mine with a lift that raises it slightly higher off the ground.
My truck looks like a piece of junk compared to that beauty. I run my palms over the worn and peeling leather steering wheel. But I love this truck. She did get me here successfully, after all.
I grab my purse off the passenger seat, open the door, and jump out. This place is downright deserted, except for the principal and me.
The last interview was hard. My heart was beating rapidly, and the principal was…daunting. He was seated farther back from the camera in his office, reading off a long list of questions, some related to teaching and others not. Several random ones caught me off guard, but that’s an interview for you. Thinking on your feet is essential.
I answered them one by one and felt pretty good about it. Excitement swirled in my stomach when the call came through about a second in-person interview. But then I remembered I explicitly told him I was moving to Cedar Creek. That probably boded well in my favor. Everything after that was a breeze. I looked up rentals, secured that shithole, packed my bags, and Rossco and I were on our way.
