Shadows at Sunset: Sunset Trilogy ~ Book 1

by Tonya Royston

  With my umbrella held high over my head, I hurried down the steps and across the parking lot. I tried to dodge the puddles, and yet I still ended up soaking my sneakers. When I reached the Explorer, I tossed my book bag on the front passenger seat and climbed in behind the wheel. I leaned out the door to shake the water off my umbrella, but somehow I managed to spray most of it in the truck and all over my raincoat. Frustrated, I tossed the soaking umbrella in the backseat and yanked the door shut. Rain thundered on the metal roof as I pulled the directions to the library out of my bag. In the dim light, I reviewed them before tucking them into the cup holder between the seats. Then I started the engine, immediately flipping on the headlights and windshield wipers. Once I buckled my seatbelt, I backed away from the curb and drove out of the school parking lot.

  The steady rain pelted the windshield as I passed through town. The maple trees scattered between the sidewalk and town buildings were only a blur against the gray sky. Once outside of town, I turned onto a road that twisted up and down through the forest. I carefully navigated each turn, many of them snaking up the mountain with only a metal guard rail separating the road from a steep cliff. In other places, dense branches high above reached across the road, making it seem like night had fallen even though it was barely four o’clock.

  By the time I reached Littleton, my hands had grown weary from clutching the steering wheel with a tight grip. The rain had finally slowed, and I was able to relax a little. I passed buildings, storefronts, and a few lonely souls hustling along the sidewalks in their raincoats, some under the cover of umbrellas. The directions took me through town to the end of the business district where I turned onto a side street. I drove by a few Victorian houses set back from the sidewalk behind white picket fences. Then the road curled through more thick endless woods. Just as I began to wonder if I’d taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way, the trees opened up and I saw a cemetery on the right. Directly across from it was a gravel driveway, a faded white picket fence lining both sides.

  I slowed immediately, stopping to read the rickety sign at the entrance. Through the misty fog, I barely made out the dull print that read Littleton Library, Established 1825. Relief washed over me. I made it, I thought as I cut the tight turn onto the gravel.

  The Explorer ambled along the short driveway, the tires crunching over the stones. Finding a tiny parking lot at the end, I eased the SUV to a stop and gaped at the ramshackle building in front of me. It was no bigger than a shoebox house on one level. Three steps led up to the front door, and the faded white paint had chipped away from the decaying wood planks. It reminded me of a one-room schoolhouse from the turn of the century. Who knew? Maybe it had been a school long ago. Only one other car faced the back of the parking lot on the other side. If I hadn’t seen it, I would have been tempted to turn around without even going in. The windows were dark, showing no signs of life inside. But I had made it this far, at my mother’s recommendation no less, so I owed it to myself to at least see if any hidden treasures waited inside.

  I shut off the engine and grabbed my book bag from the passenger seat. Easing out of the Explorer, I felt a shiver run up my spine as I stepped out into the cool mist. A crow cawed from across the street, and I jumped, turning to study the cemetery.

  A black iron fence surrounded the grassy lot. Gray headstones, some round at the top and others square, were randomly scattered beyond the fence. Weeds and tall grass grew along the base of the iron fence, and several black crows perched on the railing. An old dead tree rose up next to the front gate, its crooked barren branches snaking their gnarled way up to the gray sky.

  I stared at the cemetery, mesmerized by the creepy scene that looked like something right out of a Halloween movie. One of the crows stretched its wings out and fluttered them in the eerie silence, drawing me out of my thoughts.

  I finally turned toward the tiny library, forcing myself to walk across the gravel parking lot to the front steps. The wooden planks creaked under my weight as I ascended them to the door. Hesitantly, not sure of what waited on the other side, I turned the knob and pushed the door open. It squeaked in protest, the noise a rude awakening in the quiet. Not wanting to draw attention to myself, I tried to shut it gently, but it continued to creak and groan.

  As I entered the library, I found myself facing an elderly woman who sat at an old scratched wooden desk. She rested her elbows on it as she stared at me, her gray eyes blurry behind her thick, black-framed reading glasses. Her wiry silver hair had been swept up into a stern bun. A delicate chain hung down from her glasses beside her wrinkled, sunken face. She wore a white blouse with a ruffled upright collar, a pink cameo hanging from a silver necklace below it. There wasn’t another soul in the library. Beyond her station were rows of shelves cluttered with old, musty-smelling books.

  “Can I help you?” the woman asked, her voice quiet, yet suspicious.

  I smiled faintly, hoping to see her stern expression soften. “I’m here to do some research on a school project for my History class. The topic is the Underground Railroad that ran through New England. Do you have a section on that?”

  Her cold stare never faltered. “The books here are organized by date of publication. We have no card catalogue or internet service. Are you sure you’re in the right place?”

  “Yes,” I whispered, unnerved by her stare. I composed myself before speaking up. “My mother is an elementary school teacher in Lincoln. She told me about this library because she thought I might find some books for my project. I’m hoping she’s right.”

  “Very well, then. You may have a look around. But I close up at six o’clock sharp.”

  I nodded at her and started to venture toward the bookshelves. But I stopped when she spoke again.

  “Listen up. This is a library. The quiet rules are strictly enforced, so make sure to turn off your phone and any other gadgets you have while you’re here.”

  I scanned the empty library, rolling my eyes in bewilderment. There was no one here to be bothered by any noise. Yet I simply nodded my head. “Yes, ma’am,” I said quietly before wandering off between the bookshelves.

  I walked toward the back of the library, glancing at the hundreds of books as I looked for a good place to leave my things. Behind the last bookshelf, I found an old wooden table in the dusty corner. I placed my book bag on the scratched surface and peeled off my raincoat. After I folded it over the back of a wobbly chair, I started browsing the aisles of books, looking for the eighteen hundreds. The Underground Railroad dated from 1800 to 1865, so I would have a big section to work with once I found it.

  When I located the aisle marked 1800 to 1850, I started inspecting the books. Some were leather bound, some were hard back, and all of them smelled old and musty. Dust billowed up above each book I pulled out. The covers were generally plain, most of them listing a title and an author on a solid background of dark brown, green, or blue.

  For nearly forty-five minutes, I sifted through the books and wondered when they had last been read. I found stories from a lifetime of hardships that I couldn’t even begin to imagine. They described frigid winter nights when the only heat in the house came from a fire and food harvests that were picked by hand with the hope that it would be enough to last the long cold winter.

  It was nearly five o’clock when I realized that I hadn’t found anything on the Underground Railroad. Considering I’d only read through about twenty of the hundreds of books lining the shelves, that wasn’t surprising. I also wondered where Xander was. He’d said four-thirty. Where could he be? I hoped he hadn’t gotten lost trying to find the library, but he struck me as someone who didn’t get lost.

  I carefully slid a book of witch trials back between the other dusty books and returned to my things on the table in the back corner. I dug into my book bag to find my phone, realizing I’d forgotten to turn off the ringer since arriving at the library. I quickly switched it to vibrate as I glanced down the aisle to the front desk. A bookshelf blocked my view of
the librarian, but I knew she was still there from the occasional footsteps I heard. I sighed, grateful my phone hadn’t rung while I’d been browsing the bookshelves. The last thing I wanted was to suffer through a scolding from her, especially since she seemed to expect nothing but trouble from me.

  The librarian forgotten, I checked for new text messages and found none. Where are you? I wondered, drumming my fingers nervously against the side of my phone. Finally I typed a text message to Xander. I’m at the library. Are you coming?

  After sending it, I stuffed the phone in the back pocket of my jeans and returned to the aisle I had just left. Instead of resuming my search on the top shelves where I had left off, I kneeled down to browse some of the books at the bottom. I pulled one book out after another, only flipping through them once I had returned the previous book to its slot on the shelf. The fourth one I pulled out was entitled “Memoirs of my Grandmother, A True Hero of the Underground Railroad.” I smiled excitedly and set it aside as I continued looking for more on the subject. Since I had found one, maybe there would be more in the same section.

  I pulled a few books out at one time, hoping at least one of them contained something about the Underground Railroad. As I reached for the next book along the opening, a black shape suddenly moved in the empty space between the missing books. Two green eyes with slitted pupils stared at me before lunging out toward me with a high-pitched meow. I shrieked as a black cat leaped into my arms for a split second, scratching me as it scrambled down to the floor. I fell backward from my kneeling position, reaching my arms behind myself to catch my balance. My heart pounded as I breathed deeply. It was only a cat, nothing to get too worried about. I watched it scamper off down the aisle and disappear around the corner. That was fun, I thought sarcastically. I never expected to be ambushed by a cat in a library, but this was no ordinary library.

  As my pulse slowed and I looked down at the stack of books I had piled beside me, I heard the librarian’s footsteps round the corner at the end of the aisle. She peered at me accusingly from behind her glasses as she put one finger up to her lips to shush me.

  “Sorry,” I whispered. “The cat scared me.”

  With a huff, she turned on her heels to head back to her desk. I rolled my eyes, wondering once again where Xander was. This was supposed to be a team effort. I wasn’t about to do all the work only to let him take half the credit for it. Forgetting about the books stacked on the floor, I reached into my back pocket for my phone. As if on cue, it vibrated. Xander! I thought. Finally! But when I read the screen, my frustration only intensified. It wasn’t Xander at all. It was Noah calling. I pushed aside my annoyance with Xander’s no-show as a smile tugged at my lips. My heart flip-flopped as it did every time I saw Noah’s name light up my phone.

  “Hello?” I whispered as I scrambled to my feet and rushed to the back corner table, hoping the nosy, suspicious librarian wouldn’t hear me. I leaned against the side wall, facing the cob-webs in the corner.

  “Laken?” Concern lurked in Noah’s voice. “Is everything okay? Why are you whispering?”

  “I’m fine,” I assured him, my voice hushed. “I’m at a creepy library up in Littleton and if the librarian hears me talking, I’ll probably get kicked out.” Especially after screaming when her cat jumped out at me, I thought.

  “Sounds like fun. What are you doing up there?”

  “Research for the History project.”

  “Oh, right,” Noah mused. “Well, listen, I know it’s kind of last minute, but do you want to have dinner with me tonight? I could meet you at the pizza shop around six.”

  I glanced at my watch. It was already five-twenty. Xander was nearly an hour late, and as the seconds ticked by, I grew less hopeful that he would make it at all. If I left the library within the next ten minutes, I could make it back in time to meet Noah. “Sure. That would be nice,” I whispered. “I’ll be there.”

  “Great.” He paused. “You know, I’ve been thinking. This is a small town. I’m the deputy and you’re the sheriff’s daughter. If people start seeing us out together in public, they’re going to talk. Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

  I laughed softly, hoping the librarian didn’t hear me. “Of course. I don’t care who sees us. Let them talk. But I have to go now before the librarian hears me.” I wanted to ask him if he was okay with it, but I didn’t want to keep talking and get in trouble. Instead, I pushed that thought to the back of my mind.

  “Okay. See you soon.”

  A huge grin lingered on my face as I hung up the call. Memories of our kiss in the kitchen Saturday night crept into my mind for a moment as I bumped my phone against my chin. Then I sighed, remembering the pile of books I had left on the aisle floor. I shoved my phone back into my pocket and hurried back to them.

  This is just going to have to wait until next time when Xander is here to help, I thought as I kneeled down to return all but one of the books to the shelf. I made a mental note of their location, assuming that there was a pretty good chance they’d be right where I left them the next time I came to the library.

  As I thought about coming back here, my frustration with Xander returned. I still couldn’t believe that he’d stood me up this afternoon. I had never expected him to blow me off like this, and I really hoped he wouldn’t do it again. Until now, I had believed that I could count on him to carry his weight on this project. If he thought I was going to do all of the work, he had another thing coming. A scowl formed on my face as I hurried to the back corner to gather my things, the book of memoirs in my hand.

  I reached the table and donned my raincoat, moving my phone from my jeans to the deep side pocket in my coat. Then I hoisted my book bag onto my shoulder and carried the library book to the front to check it out. When I stopped in front of the desk, the librarian was gazing down at a book, one arm outstretched as she stroked the purring black cat lying beside it. The minute the cat saw me, it jumped to its feet with a shrieking meow and leaped off the desk. The old woman sighed with annoyance, not bothering to raise her head as she looked at me over the top of her glasses. She didn’t say a word, but rather questioned me silently, her eyebrows raised.

  “Yes--um--hi,” I stuttered. “I’d like to check out this book.” I gingerly placed the book on the desk. “Please.”

  “We don’t do that here,” she replied curtly.

  “Excuse me?”

  “All of the books in this library are authentic antiques. We don’t allow them to leave the premises, especially with teenagers.”

  I sighed with disappointment. “Okay. I’ll put it back where I found it.” I started to reach for the book, but her hand struck out like lightning to pull it toward her and out of my reach.

  “Not so fast, missy. You just leave that with me and I’ll take care of it. If you want to read it, you’ll have to come back. I’m here every day, seven days a week from nine to six.”

  I nodded in understanding. Without another word, I turned to leave. I couldn’t wait to escape the woman’s accusing stare. Never before had I been treated like a disrespectful child. I wondered what my parents would think, and I made a mental note to make sure I told them about her when I got home.

  I pulled open the front door and raced out onto the porch only to skid to a stop under the small overhang. It was pouring again. The dark gray sky hid the descending sun and the earlier mist was gone. As the miserable rain pounded the roof and the gravel, I snapped the front of my raincoat together and lifted the hood up over my head, my braid tucked under it.

  I cursed as I realized I had left my umbrella in the truck. Lovely, I thought, staring out at the pouring rain. I contemplated the mad dash I would have to make to the Explorer. A lot of good my umbrella does me in the car. I fished my car keys out of my coat pocket and tucked one hand on my book bag to hold it steady. Then I raced down the steps and out into the rain. I ran as fast as I could across the gravel. Yet by the time I reached the Explorer and jumped in the driver’s seat, beads of water r
olled down my face.

  Rain beat against the metal roof as I pulled the door shut. In the tight quarters of the driver’s seat, I pushed the dripping hood behind me, feeling the water against the back of my neck. My movements were stiff from the heavy raincoat when I moved my phone from my pocket to the cup holder before starting the truck. The engine was barely audible over the rain. I flipped on the headlights, turned the windshield wipers on high, and started the heat. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough, but I resisted flooring the accelerator. Instead, I slowly turned the truck around and guided it down the driveway to the road, my nerves finally fading as soon as I left the ramshackle library and suspicious old lady far behind.

  Chapter 20

  The windshield wipers pulsed furiously as I crossed through Littleton and then turned onto the road that cut through the mountains and led back to my town. The rain poured steadily, showing no signs of letting up as it streaked down through the headlight beams. I drove slowly, staying under the speed limit in the treacherous conditions. Not a single car passed in the other direction or came up behind me as I covered miles of road up and down steep slopes and around tight hairpin turns.

  I had no idea how deep into the mountains I had gone when my phone vibrated against the cup holder. I glanced down at it for a quick moment, but it remained dark. It must have been a text. Whatever it was would have to wait until I got back to town.

  As I raised my eyes up to the rain-streaked windshield, a white wolf stood in the middle of the road. Its damp fur reflected in the headlight beams. I screamed, slamming on my brakes to avoid hitting it. It jumped off to the side of the road, escaping an impact with the truck with only seconds to spare. My relief that I hadn’t hit it was short-lived. The truck suddenly hydroplaned on the slick pavement as the brakes locked up. The back end fishtailed to the side, sending the Explorer into a spin in the pitch black. I couldn’t see anything except the blurred shadows of trees rising up around the truck. My foot locked down on the brake, I clutched the steering wheel in a death grip as the truck veered off the road and down an embankment.