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  Haddie burst out of the forest, her head turned back toward the thing chasing her, colliding heavily with . . . her mommy. Haddie sobbed, gripping her mother’s waist, turning her face into her stomach.

  “Haddie, baby, what’s wrong? What happened?” She let go of her, sinking to her knees and smoothing back her hair, wiping away the tears coursing down her cheeks. Haddie glanced back at the forest behind her, a stream of sunlight filtering in and making the woods hazy and green. Magical. There was nothing there except trees and rocks and bushes of wild berries.

  A bird exploded from the trees in a burst of flapping wings and rustling branches, its cry sudden and sharp. Just a normal, harmless bird. Haddie felt its lightness as it lifted into the sky.

  She let out another shuddery sigh and stepped back, pointing down at her bloody knees. “I fell,” she said.

  Her mother’s brow lowered. “Is that all? It sounded like . . . you sounded terrified.”

  Haddie looked at her mother’s beautiful, concerned face and lied to her. “I was afraid you wouldn’t hear me.”

  “Oh, honey.” She smoothed away another piece of hair and then stood. “Let’s make a pact that you never go so far that I wouldn’t hear you if you called for me, okay?”

  Haddie nodded.

  “Now, let’s get those knees washed and bandaged, and scrub that stain out of your dress.” She stood, taking Haddie’s hand and leading her toward the house.

  Haddie didn’t glance behind her toward the forest. The thing had already moved far away. She couldn’t feel its weight, but she could sense its retreat.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Camden stood at the window, a cup of coffee in one hand, watching as the sun rose over Farrow. He heard a door open down the hall and footsteps approaching. Georgia came up next to him, laying her head on the side of his shoulder. “Morning,” she said, her voice groggy.

  He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “Morning. How’d you sleep?”

  “Okay. Thank you for staying.”

  “Anytime. You know that.”

  She yawned. “It’s too damn early to get up.”

  His lips tipped. “You know me, Georgie.”

  He heard her smile and turned his head to meet her eyes. “I do. Better than anyone. Always up with the sun.” She gazed up at him and he saw the hunger in her eyes. He took a sip of coffee, turning back to the glow of dawn on the distant horizon.

  He knew this wasn’t a good idea, but he couldn’t seem to say no to her. How could he?

  She cleared her throat. “So, what’d the sheriff say when you met with him yesterday?”

  Camden paused, thinking of the meeting he’d had with his boss, picturing the subject of that meeting. The woman who’d just moved into Lilith House, the one who kept popping into his mind though he didn’t invite the thoughts. Why had he told her all those stories? He still wasn’t sure. He wondered what she thought of him, wondered if he seemed awkward to her. He had limited practice interacting with people. Still, even now, he was never sure he got it quite right. “He wants me to keep tabs on Scarlett Lattimore and report back. They’re suspicious.”

  “Yeah. Well, I’m pissed. Who is she anyway?” Georgia stepped away, crossing her arms over her chest.

  He glanced at her to see her eyes had hardened, her mouth turned into that familiar pout. “Just some woman who plans to turn the house into a business.”

  “A business?” she spat. “We’ve waited thirteen years for this, Cam. We earned it. There’s no way some bitch is going to take what’s rightly ours.”

  His muscles tensed. “She already has, Georgia. Unknowingly. Like I told you and Mason, we’re going to have to modify—”

  “Oh, bullshit.”

  He turned to her. “We’ll talk about this later, okay? With Mason. I have to go home and get ready for work.”

  Her expression registered hurt. She reached out to him. “Okay. We’ll talk about it later. I just—”

  “I know, Georgie. I know.” He sighed. “She has a daughter. She’s only seven.”

  Georgia blinked. “A daughter?” She chewed at her lip a moment, finally shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. Changes nothing.”

  “Her mother told me she’s seen horns in the woods.” He’d mentioned it to the sheriff. He shouldn’t have. He regretted it now. It’d made a spark of interest light in the sheriff’s eyes and a heavy feeling of guilt settle in Camden’s stomach. He didn’t know what that might mean to the man, but he hadn’t liked the expression on his face.

  Georgia laughed. “Horns? So? It’s a forest.” She rolled her eyes. “Oh God. That legend?”

  “I think they believe it. Sometimes I wonder too . . . I used to . . . see things.”

  Georgia let out a small huff of breath. “We need to forget the things we saw at Lilith House. The things we experienced there. Isn’t that the whole point?”

  He regarded her for a moment, finally nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.” He owed her that, that and so much more. He leaned forward, kissing her forehead, letting his lips linger there. He heard her let out a small sigh and then he stepped away. “See you later.”

  “Bye, Cam.”

  Camden stepped out of Georgia’s house, jogging down the steps, the vision of Scarlett Lattimore’s face as she’d laughed in the shade of the gazebo filling his mind.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Downtown Farrow struck Scarlett as both sleepy and old-fashioned, as though both pace and time had slowed at some point in the recent past and the rest of the world, having not received the same memo, had continued to speed right on by. Although there were several large estates that looked to feature every modern amenity including swimming pools and basketball courts, sprinkled on a hill overlooking the town, the rest of Farrow was completely at odds. Scarlett drove down Main Street, noting the quaint ice cream parlor with outdoor seating, the theater with the hand-lettered marquee, and the white, domed bandstand at its center.

  There was a sense of charm in Farrow, but to Scarlett, the small town situated in a valley between two mountains also gave off a strange feeling, possibly because such a vital example of a modern urban landscape existed less than two hours away.

  However, despite the odd feeling, there were plenty of examples that modern life was very much being lived there. Cars and trucks were parked in the spaces along Main Street, people were out walking dogs and simply strolling the neighborhoods, and the bells rang from the church tower as Scarlett pulled up in front of the white steepled building with the emerald-green doors. The parking lot was mostly full, and a few stragglers hurried toward the short set of steps.

  “Ready?” she asked Haddie as she got out of the car and went around to open the back where her daughter sat strapped into her booster seat.

  Haddie nodded as she unbuckled, stepping down from the car, her gaze moving between the church and the cemetery behind it and to the left, her expression morphing quickly from concern to placid and back again. “Are you okay?” she asked, taking Haddie’s hand.

  “Yes,” Haddie said. “Lots of things happened here. Good and bad.”

  Scarlett glanced at the church. Haddie said these kinds of things sometimes and she never knew what to make of it. She’d asked her to explain what she meant dozens of times, but the questions always seemed to cause Haddie to withdraw. So rather than pointing them out and making Haddie feel self-conscious, she’d learned to take them in stride, labeling them “Haddie-isms” that maybe someday her little girl would have the vocabulary to describe to her. Or maybe not. Maybe she’d simply outgrow this phase, the same way other children eventually left their imaginary friends behind. “Yes,” Scarlett confirmed. “That’s a good way to describe a church.” They began walking toward the door, Scarlett spotting a sign that said, Office, with an arrow pointing toward the back of the building. She stepped onto the path that led there. “Joyful occasions take place in churches like weddings and baptisms, but people also gather in churches for sad events like funerals and
memorial services.”

  Scarlett saw Haddie nod her head from her peripheral vision as she pulled open the door on the back of the building with a small placard that told her she was in the right place. They entered a back stairwell and followed it down, stepping into a wide-open area, stacks of folding chairs and tables against the far wall next to a darkened hallway, and a basic kitchen area to their right. The smell brought back memories of school events after hours. There was a room off to the side with a large picture window where you could observe children playing, the muffled sounds of their laughter echoing through the glass.

  Scarlett squeezed Haddie’s hand and walked to the door, rapping on it. When it swung open, an older woman with close-cropped gray hair and a wide smile stood there. “Hi,” she said, looking between Scarlett and Haddie.

  Scarlett smiled. “Hi, my name is Scarlett Lattimore, and this is Haddie. We’re new in town, and I was hoping someone here would have some information about locating childcare for my daughter? It would only be on an as-needed basis.”

  The woman nodded and opened the door wider. “Oh yes. I’m Ruth. Come on in. This is the childcare room that’s only open during services. But I’m sure Sister Madge could help you. She knows everyone in the community. Let me give her a call.”

  “Thank you.”

  Ruth picked up a phone on the wall by the windows that faced the cemetery and Scarlett nudged Haddie as they waited, nodding toward the bookshelf and encouraging her to check it out. Haddie walked slowly to it, picking up a book as Ruth came back. “Sister Madge lives on site, and has her own office-slash-residence right behind the church. If you go back out the way you came and follow the path in that direction, you won’t be able to miss it.”

  “Great. I appreciate it.” She glanced over at Haddie who had opened the book in her hands and already seemed engaged. A little girl sitting nearby looked up and Scarlett noticed that her eyes were strangely spaced, one slightly larger and higher than the other. The child lowered her head, going back to the bead maze she was playing with.

  “Haddie’s welcome to stay here with the other children while you speak with Sister Madge,” Ruth said.

  “Oh, okay . . . well, that would be good. I’ll only be a few minutes, I’m sure.”

  “Haddie?” she called to her daughter, who looked back at her. “I’m going to be back in a few minutes okay?”

  Haddie looked slightly unsure, but nodded. “Okay, Mommy.”

  Scarlett thanked Ruth and headed back outside, taking the cement path to the back of the church where she immediately spotted a very small white house. She walked to it, knocking on the glass pained portion of the door, and turned the knob, pushing it open when a pleasant voice singsonged from within, “Come in.”

  Scarlett stepped directly into a front office, featuring a sitting area off to the side.

  An older nun stood up from where she’d been sitting at her desk, smiling kindly at Scarlett. “Well, hello. Scarlett Lattimore, right? How wonderful to welcome a new family to our community.” She brought her hands together in front of her face in a silent, singular clap.

  Scarlett walked forward, extending her hand. Sister Madge took it, her skin cold and smooth, her fingers as delicate as a bird’s wings. “Thank you,” Scarlett said, letting go and taking a seat at the leather chair in front of the desk. “We’re so happy to be here.”

  “Where in Farrow are you living, dear?”

  “We’re actually outside town, at the old Lilith House?”

  Sister Madge’s expression did something funny, but it was so fleeting that Scarlett wondered if she’d imagined it. The old woman smiled broadly. “Isn’t that wonderful? I daresay I never thought the old girl would see life again. I must hear all about what you and your husband plan to do with it.”

  “Oh, um, there’s no husband, that is, it’s just me and Haddie.”

  The same smile remained on Sister Madge’s face, unmoving for several beats. “Oh, I see.”

  She told herself she might be imagining the sister’s disapproval. Then again, if anyone was going to be a stickler for doing things the “proper way,” she supposed it’d be a nun. Scarlett glanced away for a moment, clearing her throat. “So, I’m in the process of acquiring quotes for a full remodel. If all goes according to plan, I’ll be opening a wedding and event business on the property in the spring.”

  “Weddings,” Sister Madge sighed, clapping her hands together the way she’d done moments ago. “Such happy events. So many young women gracing our little town. How lovely.” She lowered her hands, folding them on the desk in front of her. “I imagine you’ve heard about the tragedy that occurred at Lilith House thirteen years ago.”

  “The fire?” Scarlett asked, for the other tragedies Camden had spoken of had happened long before that, and not necessarily on the house’s property, but in the forest beyond. That canyon of death. The dark place. “Yes. I did. A lightning strike? Is that right?”

  Sister Madge nodded sadly. “There was a terrible storm that night that came on very suddenly. The staff and students of Lilith House were in the chapel enjoying a service when a bolt of lightning struck the building.” She shook her head, appearing as though she was barely holding back tears. “Of course, I’ve imagined so many times what it must have been like for them as the chapel filled with smoke, the old wood igniting too quickly for anyone to escape. It’s almost too terrible to comprehend.”

  A lump had filled Scarlett’s throat. “Yes,” she managed. She knew Kandace had run away from Lilith House a week before the fire—she’d learned about it from Kandace’s mother when she’d attempted to get in touch with her friend—and though no one knew what had become of her, whether she’d decided to begin a new life where she could leave her problems and responsibilities behind, or whether some form of trouble had found her, Scarlett had to feel relieved that Kandace hadn’t been there that night to burn to death as chaos and screams filled the acrid air around her. She was too vibrant, too full of life to have died like that. Trapped. Crushed.

  It’d been years before Scarlett had stopped hoping Kandi would appear back in her life, full of stories about all the adventures she’d been on during those missing years. Grown up, matured, another “aunt” to richen her daughter’s life.

  She offered Sister Madge a weak smile. “I like to think Lilith House and I are alike,” she said. “We both need a second chance. Perhaps we can provide that for each other.”

  Sister Madge tilted her head, a small smile lighting her thin lips as she studied Scarlett. “What a nice sentiment, dear.” She leaned forward slightly. “Now, what can I do to help you get more settled in our community?”

  A muffled crash came from the back of the house and Scarlett frowned, her gaze shifting to the short hallway where she could see three closed doors.

  “Cleo,” Sister Madge said. “My cat. I live here as well, if Ruth didn’t mention that,” she explained. “Just enough room for the two of us.” Her smile grew. A cat? What had it done? Knocked over a piece of furniture?

  “Ah,” Scarlett said. “Um . . .” She worked to pick up the string of the conversation again. What can I do to help, the nun had asked. “I’m actually looking for someone with childcare experience. There will be a lot of work taking place at Lilith House over the next year, and I’m going to need someone to look after my daughter on an as-needed basis until school begins. I was hoping you might be able to suggest someone? It’d be nice if the person could come to the house sometimes, but I’m also happy to drop Haddie off on the days I know I’ll be overseeing the renovations for a good part of the day.”

  “Yes, of course, and I think I have the perfect candidate in mind. Amelia Schmidt helps out in our childcare center and she’s just the loveliest girl, and wonderful with young people. Many of our parishioners use her for babysitting, but with it being summer now, I’m sure she’d relish more work. She doesn’t drive just yet, but if you’re willing to drop Haddie off, like you said, or pick Amelia up, it could wo
rk out just fine. Here.” She pulled a pen and pad forward and jotted something down on it, handing it across to Scarlett. “Here’s her number. Her father died a few years ago, God rest his soul.” She closed her eyes and made the sign of the cross. And when she opened them, she waved over to a photograph on the wall of a group of men, all in white suits, standing stoically for the camera. “He was a member of the Religious Guild here in town.” She sighed heavily. “But anyway, Amelia’s mother is a true pillar of the community herself.”

  “The Religious Guild?”

  “Oh, yes. It was formed right after the town was founded. The sons of Farrow have held the moral line for centuries.”

  The moral line? What line was that? And why did they get to decide where any particular moral boundary began and ended, simply because of their bloodline? No one man was more righteous than another by virtue of his birth. That sort of belief system was rife for all sorts of corruption.

  Scarlett’s gaze moved from the photo of the group of men to the one next to it. It looked like a Biblical rendering of a man standing while a woman, mostly naked lay at his feet, reaching for him beseechingly. “The Fallen Woman,” Sister Madge sighed. “Of course, there have been many famous ones throughout history. I like this depiction, because she’s seeking atonement by reaching for the blessing of a righteous man.” She lowered her voice as though sharing a secret. “So many do not, you know. Atone.”

  For a moment, Scarlett didn’t know what to say and so she kept her eyes on the painting as though studying its tones and shadows. Fallen woman? Atonement? What was she supposed to say to that? Was Scarlett considered a fallen woman? Was the sister suggesting that she should atone? You’re being paranoid and defensive, she told herself. She’s a nun. So her ideas are antiquated. So what?

  “It’s a beautiful painting. The symmetry is . . . quite masterful. Not that I know anything much about art. Just . . . well . . .” She glanced at the slip of paper in her hand and then back to Sister Madge. Stop rambling. You sound like an idiot. “Thank you so much. I’m grateful for the contact.” Although now she couldn’t help question the referral. If the teen—Amelia—started talking about atonement, she would have to pass.