Return to Hollow Inn

by Tara Ellis

  Ally’s resolve wavers, and she doesn’t resist when Sam takes her hand and leads her into the dense trees.

  It doesn’t take long to reach the same ravine where Bailey was found. For some reason she doesn’t understand, Sam feels a need to be stealthy, and she cautions Ally to be quiet as they approach. Stopping behind a particularly large pine tree, she raises a finger to her lips when she catches movement ahead of them. It’s followed by the cracking of branches, confirming they aren’t alone.

  Peeking out from behind the tree, Sam and Ally watch as a person kneels down in front of a large stump, a paper bag in hand. The top is rolled down and the bag is bulging with several items. Glancing furtively in each direction, the figure then sets the bag on top of the stump and backs away.

  Spinning around, the mysterious hiker plunges back into the woods, but not before Sam recognizes the face of their chaperone, Tori Castle.

  7. STRANGER THINGS

  “We should have read the letter or whatever it was.” Sam tucks some loose strands of long brown hair behind her ear as she leans in close to whisper to Ally. They’re seated at a large oak table in Hollow Inn’s formal dining room for dinner. She’s having a hard time not looking suspiciously at Tori, seated across from them.

  “We’ll ask her about it later,” Ally whispers back. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.”

  Sam isn’t so sure. She’d stopped Ally from stepping out from behind the tree for the same reason. It was obvious Tori didn’t want to be seen, especially since she’d lied about what she was doing all day. But the items in the bag were innocent enough.

  The bag sagged open when Sam picked it up, revealing a prepaid calling card with two phone numbers on a sticky-note stuck to it. One of them Sam recognized as the number for Hollow Inn. There was also a cassette tape of an old rock band and a painted rock that looked like a butterfly. A picture of two women was the most interesting item. One of the women was clearly a younger Tori. The other was a girl with long dark hair who looked a lot like the girl in the woods, Kat.

  A small envelope was taped to the bag. Sam had been tempted to open it, but Ally had put her foot down, saying she was already feeling guilty about looking at the various items. She drew the line at opening a letter that clearly wasn’t meant for them.

  Sam had reluctantly agreed, but now, only a few hours later, she was regretting the decision. Someone sneaking around in the woods and leaving mysterious packages couldn’t exactly claim a violation of privacy. Could they?

  “Oh, Mr. Appleton. I’d like to introduce you to my niece, Samantha, and her friend, Allyson.”

  Uncle Bill’s voice interrupts Sam’s thoughts, and she looks up in surprise. A very tall, thin man in his thirties approaches an empty chair. When he stops and extends a hand, she awkwardly reaches out to shake it.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Appleton,” Sam says politely. His grip is surprisingly strong, and his skin is callused. “Did you just get here?”

  “No,” the man answers bluntly as he takes a seat. “This is a working vacation. I’ve spent most of my time upstairs. Where it’s quiet,” he adds, looking slowly around the table. His gray eyes flit briefly on Sam and Ally with the last words.

  “Uh, we’re staying down in the cabins,” Ally says while glancing at Sam. “What sort of books do you write?”

  “Maybe we’ve read one,” Sam adds. It would be neat to meet an author of a book she’d actually read, even if he was kind of rude.

  “I highly doubt that.” Mr. Appleton takes a bite from a dinner roll and then reaches for his glass of water before looking at Sam. Huffing when he sees she’s waiting for a further explanation, he points at her with the remaining roll. “I write complicated, adult mysteries. Nothing a child of your age would read.” He busies himself heaping food onto his plate. “Anyway,” he adds, dipping the roll into some gravy he’s poured on his mashed potatoes, “I write under a pseudonym. I like my privacy.”

  A slamming door announces Kevin’s arrival, and he plods into the dining room a moment later. His current clothes aren’t much cleaner than the ones he had on the night before, and his shaggy hair has pine needles stuck in it. He noisily drags the heavy wooden chair next to Ally out from the table and plops down in it. “You mean C. K. Everson?”

  Mr. Appleton answers by emitting a low grunt and then takes another roll while eyeing Kevin with a piercing stare.

  It takes Sam a second to realize Kevin is talking about Mr. Appleton’s pseudonym. Covering her mouth to hide the laughter threatening to escape, she looks at her cousin with a new appreciation. How did he even know what they were talking about?

  “And we will certainly respect your privacy during your stay, Mr. Appleton,” Aunt Beth says, her voice cool. She looks pointedly at Kevin before turning to her husband and changing the subject. “I’m just relieved Bailey was found safe last night.”

  “I am too, but I’m sure to hear about it from Anthony Stepson,” Bill replies, ignoring both Kevin and his comment. “No doubt that young woman is a… resident of his.”

  “Kat was her name,” Sam interjects, grabbing the chance to measure Tori’s reaction. “What do you think she was doing out there in the woods? And who is this Anthony guy?”

  “You heard what she said, Sam. That she was hiking,” Bill answers. “Anthony Stepson is the adjoining property owner. He’s also a thorn in our side. He’s tried to prevent us from getting use permits for the inn.”

  “Why would he do that?” Ally asks.

  Sam hadn’t even realized there was another house out there. She’d assumed all the surrounding property was state or federal land.

  Bill runs a hand over his face before taking a noisy breath and then picks up his fork. “This isn’t really a dinner topic,” he finally says. “Let’s just leave it at that I question his… living arrangements. It’s led to his ridiculous objections to the minimal increased traffic and noise our vacation spot brings to the area.”

  “You mean his commune,” Tori says. “I know he claims everyone there is his extended family, but I’ve heard otherwise.”

  “Tori is making a trip into Jackson Run in the morning,” Beth says loudly, once again making a point of changing the topic of conversation. “I thought you and Ally might like to go with her, Sam.”

  “We’d love to!” Sam says eagerly as Ally looks at her questioningly. Although Sam would normally turn down the offer and opt to spend the time swimming, it’s the perfect opportunity to talk with Tori. Sam is certain now the caretaker is hiding something, and she’s determined to find out what it is.

  8. SHADOWS

  “If you really think Tori is somehow connected to the troublesome neighbor, why don’t you just tell your aunt and uncle?” Ally leans against the display case that houses Shawn Hollow’s journal.

  “Because I like Tori,” Sam answers.

  They’d said good night and headed down to the cabins soon after dinner, but neither one of them is very tired. Pushing up off the couch, Sam joins Ally in front of the case. Opening the glass door, she retrieves the journal. Aunt Beth had said they could look at it whenever they wanted. Flipping through a few of the thick, handmade pieces of paper, she takes it with her and sits back down.

  “If she knows Kat, then it’s probably not a coincidence Tori is working here. The question is why,” Sam mutters.

  “Do I seriously need to remind you what happened the last time we kept something from your aunt and uncle?” Ally states. Sitting next to Sam, she folds her legs up under her and turns so they’re facing each other. “Remember how we swore this vacation wasn’t going to include any dangerous mysteries?”

  “There’s nothing dangerous about it,” Sam says quickly. “And maybe not even that mysterious. We’ll ask Tori what’s going on tomorrow during our trip to town. If it’s something my aunt and uncle don’t already know about, then we’ll tell them. Okay?”

  Ally shrugs. She’s used to Sam’s headstrongness and knows it won’t do any good t
o argue. Besides, Sam has a point. It’s probably not anything they need to get involved in. “What are you looking for?” she asks, gesturing to the journal. “We’ve already read the whole thing.”

  “I know,” Sam answers. “But it’s been a year. I don’t think Shawn Hollow wrote anything in here about neighbors. Do you remember reading something about it?”

  Ally spreads the journal open between them. As Sam studies the fancy script of Shawn Hollow’s handwriting, she’s taken back to the summer before. A small thrill stirs in her stomach, but she quickly reminds herself that they shouldn’t get involved in another mystery.

  “This was written over a hundred years ago,” Ally reminds her. “Who knows how much the land rights have changed around here during that time.”

  “Not much.”

  Sam and Ally look up as Kevin walks in, wiping his dirty hands on his jeans. “That Stepson guy inherited the place from his grandpa a couple of years ago. Until then, people hardly remembered that anyone lived back there, but the Stepsons have been around as long as the Hollows.”

  “How do you know that?” Sam asks skeptically.

  Kevin rolls his eyes. “You’re not the only nosy one in the family. People talk. You just have to listen.”

  “Why’s he causing problems for Aunt Beth and Uncle Bill?” Sam questions, ignoring his comment about snooping.

  Shrugging his shoulders, Kevin leans back against the table in front of the girls, crossing his arms over his chest. “Even though he’s got his own little commune going, he doesn’t like the idea of Uncle Bill having a bunch of guests here, which is stupid. There’s plenty of wooded area between the two properties. Plus the lake is there. I guess the road is shared up until it branches off for the last few miles before the Stepsons’ place, but it’s not like Hollow Inn brings in a lot of traffic. I dunno.” Kevin shrugs again. “I think the guy’s just a jerk. He’s made a big scene at every city council meeting where the extended-use permits for the inn were up for approval.”

  “Use permits?” Ally asks.

  “Hollow Inn used to be a regular residence,” Kevin explains. “The county has special zoning regulations for businesses. In order for our aunt and uncle to run it as a bed-and-breakfast, they had to get a special permit. That was a couple of years ago. Then they had to get another one when they built these cabins. That one almost got turned down because of Anthony Stepson, and from what I heard Uncle Bill saying the other night, Stepson might succeed in blocking the rest of the renovations they have planned. He might even prevent them from renting these cabins out to anyone.”

  Sam grimaces. “How can he do that?”

  “Lawyers, I guess,” Kevin replies.

  Sam turns a couple of pages in the journal, discouraged to think that all the work her aunt and uncle did might be ruined by one person. “What’s a commune anyway?”

  “That’s a hot topic,” Kevin says, grinning. “Basically, this guy has brought his whole extended family out to live there. No one’s sure exactly how many people are there, which is really ironic considering how he’s complaining about this place. But it’s all legal. There were already three houses built on the property, and there’s a couple of motor homes.”

  “How do you know that?” Sam squints at her cousin and tilts her head slightly.

  “I told you,” he says defensively. “I hear things.”

  “Right.” Sam doesn’t want to argue with him, but he’s obviously been snooping around and probably going closer to the other guy’s property than he should.

  The front door swings open, followed by Tori loudly clapping her hands together. “Who’s up for some s’mores? I’ve got a good fire burning!”

  Sam jumps to her feet in surprise, barely catching the journal before it hits the floor. Laughing, she takes it back over to the display case. “I’m game!” she answers.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Tori says, meeting Sam at the stand. “I read through the journal and noticed there’s a couple of pages missing. I know you found the riddle in there, but did you tear the page out?”

  Startled by the question, Sam looks down at the journal still in her hand. “No, we wouldn’t have done that! Why do you think there are pages missing?”

  Tori takes the old leather-bound book and holds it by the spine, with the pages hanging down. “Here,” she directs, pointing at a small gap in the hand-stitched binding. It’s clear where one of the pages was pulled out.

  Ally has come to join them and reaches out to poke at the space made obvious when looking at the spine from the side. “We never noticed that,” she says, raising her eyebrows at Sam.

  Sam nods in agreement before taking the journal back. Opening it to where the gap is, she notes it’s at the end of one of the later entries in the journal. However, the entries before and after are complete. There’d be no way of knowing that anything was missing since it was normal for weeks to go by in between Shawn Hollow’s writings.

  “Weird,” Sam mutters before setting it back in the case. “I wonder what was on it?”

  “Probably a secret family recipe for squirrel stew,” Kevin says with heavy sarcasm. “Come on, aren’t we going to have s’mores?”

  Tori grabs the supplies from the kitchen and then leads the way to a roaring fire. The last of the sunlight has faded from the sky, replaced by a blanket of stars. Sam stops to look up before entering the ring of bright firelight.

  “It’s incredible!” Ally gasps from beside her.

  “Girls, can you go get the marshmallow skewers from the shed?” Tori asks while throwing another log on the fire.

  Sam leads the way across the open lawn and then down the short trail to the storage shed. Her eyes quickly adjust to the dark so she’s able to find her way without falling over anything.

  “We should have brought a flashlight,” Ally mutters, grabbing Sam’s arm.

  Sam laughs lightly as she reaches for the shed door. “I can see just fine,” she says. The long metal skewers are resting against the wall, just inside the door. Grabbing them, she turns to face Ally but freezes partway.

  “What is it?” Ally whispers, her eyes growing wide.

  Sam grips one of the metal rods tightly in her right hand and uses it to point toward the trees to the right of them, just off the trail that leads to the lake. As she does so, the shadows shift and a tall, dark figure steps out onto the trail.

  “Good evening, ladies,” Mr. Appleton says, his teeth flashing white in the darkness.

  9. JACKSON RUN REVELATIONS

  “He was just out for a walk.” Tori turns her attention briefly from the road ahead to give Sam and Ally a crooked grin. “He had writer’s block. Going down to the lake to clear his head isn’t such a weird thing.”

  “Maybe not,” Sam concedes. A small shiver passes through her as she recalls the first tense moments of their encounter the night before. Once she had realized who it was, she laughed it off. But there was something creepy about Mr. Appleton.

  Ally squirms on the truck’s bench seat beside her before nudging her slightly in the arm. It was a silent reminder of what they were supposed to be talking about.

  “At first I thought it might be someone from that commune next door,” Sam says slowly, watching Tori for a reaction.

  The older woman’s face contorts into a grimace before she quickly recovers. “Why would you say that? Anthony Stepson has been a pain but only in the legal sense. He’s never been on the property, as far as I know.”

  “But what about the girl… Kat?” Sam pushes. “She sure seemed nervous. I wonder how she’s related to that Stepson guy?”

  Tori turns again to look at Sam, who’s sandwiched between her and Ally. But this time she isn’t smiling. Her eyes narrow in thought before she focuses again on the winding country road. “I wouldn’t know, Sam. They’re supposed to all be family. I have a feeling it’s a bit more involved than that, but I’ve learned sometimes it’s best to mind my own business.”

  Sam swallows hard. Sh
e’d planned on asking Tori outright about Kat, but now it doesn’t seem like a very good idea. Ally gives her another nudge. They’ve been best friends long enough that Sam knows it means they’re having the same thoughts.

  “What kind of supplies are we getting?” Sam asks, deciding to change the subject.

  The three of them are crammed into an older pickup truck that doesn’t have a back seat. It does have a large bed, however, which apparently is what’s needed for this trip.

  “I have several stops to make,” Tori explains, sounding pleasant again. “Including the hardware store for fence posts and stepping-stones, the auto store for parts for the golf carts, and the grocery store. Is there any place you’d like me to drop you off? It’ll take me a couple of hours, and there’s no reason you have to tag along.”

  The road takes a final sharp turn to the north before approaching a four-way stop. The woods have begun to thin out as they’ve come down in elevation, but it still feels like the middle of nowhere. A sign says Jackson Run is only two miles ahead.

  “Someplace with computers?” Ally suggests. She’s a little more dependent on her smartphone and social media than Sam is.

  “I think the library has a public computer and Wi-Fi,” Tori answers, chuckling. “And there’s an ice-cream shop right next to it.”

  Sam perks up at the mention of both the library and ice cream. She wants to do some digging into the history of the Stepsons’ property. She tried asking her Uncle Bill that morning before they left, but either he didn’t know or wasn’t willing to talk about it.

  “It’s right up here,” Tori says as they pull onto Main Street.

  The street is lined by quaint shops with old western-themed storefronts. The wooden boardwalk reminds Sam of Ocean Side, the small seaside town where they live in Washington State. As they pull to a stop in front of a slightly more modern building, she notices a police car rounding the corner in front of them.