Page 12 of Dark Shadows
“Time to playwith the same spiral drawn under it.” He gestured to dirt hole. “That freshly dug hole is about six feet deep where we believe the guy was buried. Whoever dug him up, put his wallet and personal belongings into a sealed plastic bag. Your name was written on a piece of paper and left inside.”
“How did the cops not find that body or the disturbed soil when I brought them back to the barn twenty years ago?”
“It’s possible the body was moved after you saw it and then brought back after the barn was searched. What better place to get rid of a body than a place the authorities had already searched? Kind of genius.”
Mason crossed the room and picked up one of the evidence bags from the collection table. He brought it over and held it out so she could see exactly how it had been found.
Inside was an old newspaper clipping. One showed a photo of her as a child when John Delson was arrested. The other was from several years later, when no one believed her about the dead guy in the barn.
She stared at the articles, her jaw tightening. The authorities had dismissed her, called her a liar. Said she was desperate for attention. They followed her out here, humored her for a few hours, then left her standing in the woods with nothing to show for her efforts.
She hadn’t lied. Not then.
And now there were two dead men.
Maybe one of them would still be alive if someone had listened.
A slow chill worked its way down her back, the kind that always came when something unseen was too close. She rubbed her arms and turned in a slow circle, scanning every corner of the barn, feeling like something might step out of the shadows at any second.
“Are you sure we’re alone?” she asked, her voice low.
“You tell me,” Mason said, meeting her gaze.
“This place is bringing back some bad memories.”
“Yeah. I think we could both use a break. Let’s go get some coffee.”
4
The car ride back into town was quiet.
The scent of hay had still lingered in the barn back then, even though it was long gone. Every time she smelled hay, no matter where she was, it triggered memories of that day all over again.
She'd been walking home on the same dirt path she took every day after playing with Emily and the other ghostly kids at their secret spot in the forest. She never strayed from the path. She knew every step, every tree, every twist in the trail. That day, something had felt off.
Her heart had pounded with that warning she'd come to know well. Like something unseen was too close. She felt that same unease now, curled low in her chest.
The horrible smell had hit her out of nowhere.
Back then, she hadn't understood what it meant. But grown-up Savanah knew it all too well. The smell of death.
The psychic vision that followed knocked her off balance. A sharp blade flashing toward her. She could still remember the air being siphoned from her lungs as she dropped to her knees. She'd fallen to her side, gasping for breath.
Pain had flared across her throat. Her fingers had flown to her neck, grateful to find it untouched. The blade from her vision hadn't been real. Not this time.
Sharp pain shot behind her eyes, and she'd clamped her hands over them.
The vision wouldn't last. It never had. She knew she'd survive it, but it didn't make it easier.
When the pain eased, she'd crawled to her feet. Her vision was still cloudy, but she pushed forward.
She'd stepped off the path.
A branch snapped behind her. She'd spun, panic rising fast. Her hand flew to her mouth. She turned to run and tripped over a root.
Scraped knees and bloodied palms didn't stop her. She got up and ran straight for the barn.
She remembered peering through the wooden slats.
