He held his hand up for the weathered notebook Jonah held. Nico opened it, revealing pages filled with scratchy handwriting.
“But only one owner died on the property. This was before it was called Elmwood.” Nico flipped through what I now could see was a logbook.
“Where’d you find that?” I leaned closer, noting the thin pages and faded pencil marks. The book looked like it should be under glass at a museum with a steel plateNo Touchingsign hanging above it.
“There’s an entire shelf of them in the back,” Esther said. “They’re handwritten records. Everything from old property sales to wedding announcements.”
“A scrapbook of data,” Rae mused. “Makes our job easier.”
“There are over two hundred of them.” Esther nudged her chin to the back wall of books stacked underneath theCollectionssign.
“From what I can tell, there may be some missing pieces. Lost years. But there’s enough here for a good start.” Nico handed the book to Rae for closer inspection. “And only one who seems like a red flag.”
“Who died?” I asked.
Nico pointed to Jonah, who quickly filled in, “Thomas Arnold. He was forty-one.”
“And he?” Nico prompted, pointing to Esther next.
“Was a game hunter with a lot of debt. So, a lot of enemies,” she said.
Rae frowned at her friend, but he smiled back. “What? I’m teaching the next generation.”
“Just continue.” She gestured to the computer. “What’s all this?”
On the screen, there was a collection of photos on a sitecalled Glimpse of the Past. The website’s design was clunky, with large text and colorful banners. The interface needed a serious update, a relic of the early 2000s.
A blurry photo of a man with a crew cut and overalls stood in front of the familiar trees that were in my front yard. He had a rifle in one hand and a dead fox in the other. The grin he wore was wide, complete with an overbite and a sharp canine tooth.
Nico looked at me. “Do you know him?”
I laughed under my breath. “No, I don’t know a man from the…eighties? Why does this photo look so old?”
The clothes he wore reminded me of outfits from those old rom-coms my mom used to rewatch. Actors from the fifties on a black-and-white screen.
“Why do they let you ride horses into town?” Nico asked. “People seem to like simple things around here.”
“I know an Arnold,” Esther said.
We all looked at her. She readjusted in her seat, pulling a knee to her chest.
“He lives on Main Street,” she said softly. While everyone else spoke in normal voices, Esther was the only one who respected the library’s quiet expectations. We had to lean in to listen. “Used to teach music at the middle school. He’s nice. Now he plays nights at the bar.”
“You wouldn’t know if they have a family plot at the cemetery off the top of your head, would you?” Nico asked, only half-teasing.
Esther nodded. She had lived here her entire life.
“All the local families do,” she said.
“Cemetery’s right around the corner,” Nico said just as Rae was opening her mouth to ask.
I frowned, confused that Rae gave Nico’s shoulder a squeeze in approval. “What does that mean?”
“We’re convinced this thing’s a vengeful spirit,” Nico said. “Its anger is directed at you because it understands you own the land now. You are in charge, taking over their place after they had to let it go prematurely.”
“Prematurely?” I asked.
“He was murdered on the property,” Jonah said in a whisper, as if someone was listening.
