Calling Quarters (Beacon Grove Book 1)

by Jen Stevens

  He huffed out a breath and shook his head at my stubbornness. “Then don't trust a single soul you encounter there,” he warned. With that, he took a few steps back and turned toward his vehicle, calling over his shoulder, “I'll lead the way.”

  ---

  Beacon Grove was just as beautiful as the forest surrounding it. Officer Abbot was right, there didn't appear to be any other way in or out of the sleepy town aside from the dirt road we were on. His police cruiser led me back onto pavement and into a lot beside a building marked, “Beacon Grove Community Center.”

  Once we were stopped, he stepped back out of his car and walked up to my window, staring in at me expectantly. There was something off about him, that much was obvious. But he'd managed to lead me where I was asking to go and didn't appear to want to harm me.

  In fact, his oddness stemmed from his unnecessary concern for me. With that thought in the back of my mind, I rolled my window down halfway so we could talk.

  His entire demeanor had shifted back to the authoritative figure that approached me from the start. Any fear or concern that he showed before about me or Aunt Ash was washed away during our short drive, and I couldn't help but wonder if I should have taken his warning more seriously. He clearly knew something dark about this place.

  “There's one hotel and it's just up the street. It's run by Tabatha Granger and her granddaughter. They'll take good care of you during your stay. Let you know the best places to eat and such.” He pointed a finger toward a street that headed north. “You'll find the town's center just down that way. Might have spotty cell service anywhere on the outskirts, but we do our best to keep Wi-Fi connected throughout.”

  “Okay, thank you, Officer.”

  “Please, call me Kyle,” he insisted, his eyes softening a bit at the sides again as they grazed over my face once more. “You're a spitting image of your father.”

  That had taken me back. What was wrong with this man to think that was an appropriate thing to say to a complete stranger? I'd expected to find people in this town who knew my parents—that was the whole point of coming here. But not this quickly, and not in such a creepy way.

  Maybe they were so far removed from society, they'd forgotten simple customs. Perhaps that's why my parents left in the first place.

  “I'm sorry. I don't mean to scare you. I grew up with your mom and dad. I suppose you should get used to people bringing them up. They were pretty popular around here and there's no denying that you've got their blood.” He dropped his voice and warned, “Just be careful who you spend your time with.”

  Part of me wanted to ask more. If he was one of their friends, he must know a lot about them, or at least who they were before they left. Maybe he knew why they left. But another part of me was screaming to get away from him. To take at least one of his warnings seriously and not trust him or anyone else. I decided to go with the latter, at least until I learned more about Beacon Grove and the people in it.

  Speaking of which, where were all the people who lived here? We'd been parked for nearly fifteen minutes, and I still hadn't seen a single soul besides Officer Kyle. It was the middle of the day. Surely, someone had to have crossed our path by now.

  Almost as if he had read my mind, he explained, “There's a town meeting in progress. They're held in the town's center on nice days. Gives everyone a breath of fresh air while they deal with any issues. They should be finishing up soon.”

  I nodded my response, eager to be alone and begin exploring. It might be beneficial to see the town before any other nosey townsfolk could bother me again.

  “I'll let you get to it.”

  “Thank you for all your help,” I said, offering a tight smile.

  “If you have any questions, feel free to holler. I'm always around.” He lowered his head, his face a little too close to mine as he whispered, “Don't forget what I said, Storie. Trust no one.”

  With that, he slapped the top of my car and walked off. I pulled out of my spot and headed in the direction of the hotel; a heavy boulder of doubt now placed firmly in my stomach.

  Chapter 3

  Storie

  Tabitha and her granddaughter came walking down the road shortly after I arrived at their hotel. I had been trying to pull up the map on my phone to figure out exactly where Beacon Grove was when I felt eyes on me.

  Assuming it was them, I lifted my head and found the most intense man openly gaping at me. He stared as if he'd never seen another human before and his attention sent chills down my spine. He was tall and muscular, wearing a black t-shirt with the sleeves cut off to expose his toned arms. His golden skin practically glistened in the sun. Just as I'd grown uncomfortable enough to stand and leave, people began walking toward us down the street.

  He noticed the incoming visitors at the same time and abruptly abandoned our stare-off. When he turned and left, he passed the old woman I assumed was Tabitha and her granddaughter on the way. They each avoided eye contact with him while he appeared to ignore their existence. The entire exchange was odd, given his curiosity toward me.

  They didn't notice me waiting on the bench just beside their porch until they were unlocking the door, too focused on whatever whispered argument they were having.

  “Oh, hi. Can we help you?” the young girl finally asked on a gasp as she assisted her grandmother over the threshold.

  She had to be close to my age. Her red hair was tied back in a braid that hung below her butt. Light brown freckles littered her entire face.

  “I'm looking to rent a room.”

  The old woman swung her head around, finally offering her attention, and then stopped dead in her tracks. She looked like she'd seen a ghost.

  If Officer Kyle hadn't told me they were related, I never would have guessed. Tabitha's hair was completely white, the color drained out from old age, but her weathered skin was a light mocha color and her plump figure stood at least six inches shorter than the young girl. The only resemblance they shared were the odd shade of deep, dark green that their eyes pinned me with.

  “You shouldn't be here,” her deep voice croaked.

  Her granddaughter blanched, eyes widening in disbelief. “Grammy,” she warned, but was quickly dismissed by Tabitha. I watched her wilt under the old woman's warning stare.

  I had no idea how to respond. Her cold glare chilled my entire body, sending an involuntary shiver through my limbs. She appeared to enjoy inciting that reaction from me, grunting out her disappointment with a smirk before she shook her head once, then turned her back on me and walked inside.

  When we were alone, Blaire gestured for me to follow her into the office. She was cordial and overly polite to make up for her grandmother's crassness.

  “I swear, she's losing her mind. She's been pulling cards like crazy and talking to herself more every day,” she rambled, mostly to herself while I awkwardly waited for her to hand over my room key.

  “It's not a big deal.” I laughed, hoping that speaking the words into existence would make them true.

  In reality, Tabitha's greeting scared me a little. She was the second person I'd come into contact with in a matter of hours who told me I shouldn't be here. It fed the doubt growing in the pit of my stomach, screaming at me that this trip was a mistake. I knew Aunt Ash would be upset at me if she were alive, but she was the main reason I was here.

  Her death didn't make any sense. None of my family's untimely deaths did. While each one was slightly different, the similarities between them were what sent me on this rogue trip. I needed answers, and this was the one place they all had in common.

  I had no choice but to explore it… right?

  “Well, hopefully you'll enjoy the rest of your time here. Room seven is just that way, three doors down. Stop by if you need anything else."

  My room was small and outdated. A queen size bed took up most of the floor space with two nightstands adorning either side. It narrowed into a little nook in the back with a small round table and single chair tucked beneath.
The table butted against a buffet that held a microwave and old tube-style television. The bathroom was equally crowded, and the shower floor was stained with rust from the town's well water. The bedding, curtains, and towels all matched with a horrible pastel floral print.

  It wasn't glamorous, but it would do.

  I set my suitcase down on the bed and headed into the bathroom for a quick shower, eager to scrub the past two days of travel from my skin.

  As I settled in, I swore I could hear distant shouts coming from somewhere within the hotel. They were blood-curling; filled with anguish and desperation. Silence took over the space just as quickly and I told myself I’d imagined it.

  Chapter 4

  Storie

  The center of town was not at all what I expected it to be for such a small, secluded place. A white gazebo served as the centerpiece, surrounded by flowers of various species and colors. The roads that curved around it were paved with white cobblestone, and the sidewalks looked to be newer and in pristine condition. Not a single thing was out of place. It was so unlike the polluted cities I grew up in.

  The buildings were set against each other in varying sizes and styles, fighting to showcase their own individuality through the layer of matte black paint they were covered in. Copper awnings hung above every door, the color popping out amongst the uniformed black and white.

  It was beautiful. The contrast made everything look a little more magical.

  There were people mulling all around, too caught up in their own worlds to notice me gazing at the architecture and style of their home like a true out-of-towner. The coffee shop on the corner seemed to be the most popular spot with a constant flow of people going in and out. I decided to try that first, noting the rest of the stores as I passed them.

  The whimsical patterns and styles showcased in the display window of the clothing boutique caught my attention. Next to it was an art gallery that wasn't open, and Granger's Pharmacy was the largest, taking up the space of three storefronts. I noticed Tabitha and Blaire's last name on the sign and made a mental note. They seemed to have their hands in everything.

  The tavern on the opposite corner was closed, but I was willing to bet based on the worn tables and chairs sitting on their patio that they rivaled the coffee shop's popularity at night.

  The library stood alone near the coffee shop. While it didn't take up much of the street the way the pharmacy had, it towered over the others. It had to have been at least five stories high. The sign on the door was flipped to CLOSED and the hours weren't posted anywhere, but I knew that would be my best bet for finding information. Surely, it held some answers about the history of the Graves family and why my parents left. Maybe some birth records or newspaper articles that could point me in the general direction I should be looking in.

  When I stepped into The Grind, I was hit with the familiar nutty aroma and instantly felt at home. The walls were painted bright orange with large yellow and red swirls, imitating a flowering rose. My barista was quick, and the coffee was better than I expected it to be.

  The guy from yesterday was leaning against a tree in front of the shop with three others as I left. I almost didn't notice him, too focused on where I'd head next, but his eyes were locked on me with a predatory glare this time, as if he had been waiting for me.

  The other three shifted their gaze my way, each one looking scarier than the last. Their appearances were almost otherworldly. All of their features were more pronounced, their colors more electric than anyone else around.

  Their beauty looked menacing.

  Unapproachable.

  People avoided looking at them as they passed, opting to look down at the ground or straight ahead, just as Tabitha and Blaire had done the day before.

  I felt a few passerby eyes land on me in response to the undivided attention I'd received from the four strange-looking men. I scowled in response, irritated at the spectacle they were drawing toward me. That only seemed to please the first one as a smile crept across his face.

  I turned my back to them and walked in the opposite direction, away from town square. I decided I would just have to explore a little later, when my embarrassment faded, and people forgot about the weird exchange that just happened.

  Those guys were clearly unhinged and a sick feeling in my gut told me I needed to stay away.

  Aunt Ash told me to trust my intuition because it was always right. I never knew what she meant by that. Was I supposed to go with the first initial thought that entered my head about a person or thing? To believe the little seeds of doubt or excitement that planted their way into my thoughts as time went on?

  I'd always thought it was another nonsensical piece of advice she'd tried to bestow upon me. That she was crazy.

  Now, I knew exactly what she was talking about. Intuition was a strange, unexplainable feeling—almost like a voice in your head or a tug on your heart—where you just know. There's no science or logic behind it. It just is.

  “Oh, hey,” Blaire called out as I passed the hotel office.

  I turned back and smiled my greeting, hoping she didn't have anything else to say. I wanted to be alone.

  There was nothing negative or menacing about her. In fact, I felt calm and secure in her presence. She was safe. But apparently, I could only take Beacon Grove and its odd inhabitants in small doses.

  “I just finished up a shift,” she explained, closing the distance between us. Disappointment sank into my stomach at her next words. “I thought maybe I could show you around. I've got nothing else to do.”

  I looked back in the direction of the town, trying to form some sort of excuse to decline. “I actually just came from there. I was going to head inside and grab a snack,” I lied.

  I still haven't even had time to grab groceries.

  “No way. I'll take you to the best diner around. It's kind of a secret amongst us locals, but I think I can trust you not to tell.” She winked at me teasingly. “You'll be in a food coma for days.”

  With that, she turned her back to me and gestured for me to follow. I hesitantly trailed behind her, and to my surprise, we walked the opposite way I'd just come from.

  We traveled a few blocks south, into what appeared to be more of a residential area. The houses of Beacon Grove were more approximately matched with the age of the town than the square had been. Decaying, two and three-story brick homes littered the streets with varying colors and conditions, telling the stories of those that lived in them. It was obvious that some had been split up into apartments with staircases that led to each level wrapped around them.

  That was also the case for the building Blaire stopped at. I looked around for a sign or any other indication that we were heading into a diner and not someone's basement or kitchen but fell short.

  “Maisy Sanford isn't big on tourists,” she explained when I gave her a puzzled look. “She tries to keep her place under wraps. Only those who live here know about it.”

  She opened a rotting side door and waved for me to go ahead. It led to stairs that went down into what appeared to be a basement and for a split second, I questioned Blaire's intentions.

  Had I underestimated her? Was I being led into some sort of dangerous trap?

  But then a burst of laughter broke out behind the door at the bottom of the stairs and my doubts faded away.

  Once we got to the end of the staircase, Blaire reached ahead of me to open the second door and a room full of people appeared. They were chatting and laughing at separate tables as an older waitress ping-ponged between them.

  “We caught the end of the lunch hour,” Blaire whispered, grabbing the last open table off to the side. “Most of them will be leaving in a few.”

  I followed her lead and sat down, grabbing one of the menus off the end of the table.

  “What did I tell you about visitors, Blaire?” the waitress appeared out of nowhere, stern eyes boring down into my new friend.

  “I know, I know. But she isn't just a visitor. Her parents were b
orn here, so that kind of makes her one of us, right?”

  I shot Blaire a questionable glare. I never told her who my parents were, let alone where they were born. Surely, there was more than one Graves family in town for her to mix me up with. Why would she think she could make that statement so boldly?

  When my eyes flicked back to the waitress, I realized her attention was zeroed in on me, and I swear the entire diner quieted down to hear our conversation.

  “What's your name?”

  That was met with my irritated scowl. I was tired of being asked that question, as if it meant anything to a group of people I'd never met before. After seeing Officer Kyle and Tabitha's reactions, I was hesitant to offer a real name to the nosey old woman. If she didn't want me to eat at her basement diner, I'd happily leave. There was no reason to cause a scene.

  But Blaire piped up before I could offer my snarky response. “Her name is Storie Graves. Grammy says her parents were good people.”

  The woman's facial expression shifted, as I was learning most people’s in this town did when hearing my name. She softened a bit, placing her wrinkled hand on my shoulder.

  “I'm sorry about your loss. You just can't be sure who to trust around here anymore.”

  I nodded hesitantly, realizing that was another common theme in Beacon Grove. No one trusted each other, though as an outsider, the town appeared to be a tight-knit community. I lost myself in thought, wondering who or what happened to have made these people so weary of each other, when Blaire kicked my foot under the table.

  “Sorry, what?”

  “What can I get you to start with?”

  I placed my order and Blaire continued to talk my ear off as people around us slowly filtered out. With the diner less crowded, it was easier to take in each face as they passed. A table of four men stood to leave and I noticed the man from Aunt Ash's house a few years ago.

  My heartbeat pounded into my ears, drowning out the clattering of the diner as my focus zeroed in on him.