Page 111 of 1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Forty-Two

This couldn’t be. She had just been herefor Benji’s parents’ anniversary party.

The ground suddenly became her enemy as she tried totraverse it without tripping. She stumbled up the steps to the front door. Itsat open, dirt and leaves creating a path to the inside. Mrs. Henderson workedtirelessly to keep her tiny house clean, and the front porch was her sanctuary.She had a small area where she sat while drinking tea and watching the birds.And then there was the porch swing Mr. Henderson had built for her. It now hunglopsidedly on its chains, one side broken and the other barely hanging on fordear life. The bench looked centuries old, and several slats had been damaged,the wood splintered and scraggly. Sia had never been more confused in herentire life.

She followed the debris inside and saw more of the same,along with a couple of raccoons and the blur of a mouse scampering across thecluttered floor. Utterly bewildered, Sia stared for a solid ten minutes, athousand scenarios rushing through her mind. Not a single onemade sense. After what seemed like a week, she turned to go back to her car.The chill of the night air was getting to her, though it was probably the onlything keeping her from losing consciousness. When she turned, she found herselfstaring down the double barrels of a shotgun.

She dropped her phone and stumbled back, unable to look pastthe two circles pointed straight at her face.

“And just what do you think you’re doing there, missy?” Itwas the voice of an older woman, hoarse and scratchy as though she’d smokedunfiltered for her whole life.

“I was looking for the Hendersons,” Sia said, keeping herpalms held high. She retreated another step, but the doorframe stopped her fromgoing far.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on this place since the localsdecided it was party central.”

“I’m not a local. I’m just a friend of the Hendersons.”

“Got that name off the mailbox, did ya?”

“No,” Sia said. “I come here all the time.”

The woman snorted. “Well, you’re either a very bad liar, oryou got the wrong house. Ain’t sure which,considering you don’t look like a druggie.”

“I’m not, I assure you. I’m a doctor.” Not that she had anyway to prove that while standing on the porch.

“No shit?”

“Can I get my phone?”

The silhouette nodded, so Sia sank down and grabbed her cellbefore rising again, hands held up for good measure. “I can show you my CV. AndI have a card in my bag.” She pointed one finger from around the phone towardher car. “Can we, perhaps, rethink the shotgun thing?”

“Can we, perhaps, rethink the flashlight?” the woman said,squinting at Sia.

Sia finally got a look at the woman. Gray hair pulled backinto a wiry bun, a ruddy complexion on a round face, and overalls with a plaidshirt underneath.

“Oh, of course.” Sia swiped her phone and turned off theflashlight before raising her hands again. Unfortunately, the woman didn’t holdup her end of the bargain, keeping the shotgun trained in the direction of herface. Sia decided not to press the issue. “Do you know where the Hendersonswent? Their house looks abandoned.”

“Sharp as a tack, you are. Like I said, you’re going to haveto come up with something better than that.”

Sia shook her head. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Look, princess, the Hendersons ain’tlived here going on five years.”

“That—that’s not possible,” Sia said, fighting the urge tohyperventilate.

“Come to think of it,” the woman continued, “no one’s livedhere for five years. This cabin was tied up in all kinds of legal hullabaloo.No idea what ever came of that, but it’s been abandoned since their son died.”

Sia felt the bones in her legs dissolve. “Benji? But hedidn’t die. He was rescued and resuscitated.”

“Only in the Hendersons’ dreams. He died five years agoalmost to the day.”

The world tilted under Sia’s feet, and the woman reaffirmedher willingness to shoot her where she stood by repositioning the shotgun onher shoulder and lowering her head as though looking at Sia through a scope—notthat she would need anything of the sort at this distance.

A male voice came to them from the trees. “There you are.”

The woman swung the shotgun toward the voice as a man walkedout of the forest. “Sorry, I got turned around,” he said, and Sia immediatelyrecognized the voice. Donovan St. James. But how? “Whoa,” he said, spotting theshotgun. He showed his palms and stopped immediately. “No need for that. Wecome in peace.”

“Like I haven’t heard that before.”

“We were just looking for the Hendersons.”