“Okay, sure, but how do you know it’s this Arnold guy who’s haunting the place?”
The land of Elmwood had nearly a century of history. Surely there were a multitude of deaths on the property, both reported and unreported. On purpose and accidentally.
“We don’t, but I would haunt any and everything if I went out like he did.” Nico opened another window and tilted the computer screen in my direction.
1986, at around 1:30 a.m, the local butcher, suspecting his wife and Thomas Arnold were sleeping together, used a set of carving knives to ensure Arnold’s demise.
“Jesus.” I flinched at the photo paired with the article, a gruesome shot of blood and knives on a living room floor.
“It’s not an exact science,” Rae said. “But it’s a start. This is the most brutal death on record?”
She paused for Nico to clarify. He pointed at Jonah and Esther, who offered a shy chorus of yeses.
“So, we run with it because odds are, this is our guy.” Rae gestured to the photo. “Not many people get…”
“Gotlike that?” Nico finished.
I was having trouble swallowing with that photo still on the screen and motioned for him to change the window.
“We’ll find the bones and either bless or burn them.” Rae looked at me as she explained. She held her hand up like she was going to touch me but placed it on the armrest of my seat instead. “And then monitor our readings, hang out for a couple of days to make sure it worked.”
“What constitutes a blessing or burning?” Esther asked.
“How peaceful or troubled the spirit is,” Rae said. “Restless and mourning spirits work well with blessings.”
“And nine times out of ten, vengeful ones call for burning,” Nico noted. “Between Octavia’s nightmare and the ranch hand’s accidents, something tells me Arnold’s not chill enough for a blessing.”
Rae took a deep breath and handed him back the logbook. “Burn without question.”
We exitedthe library with two separate missions: Rae and Co. would desecrate a grave, and I had to get back to the ranch to help with dinner.
“Sun’s setting,” I said once we were at the bottom of the library steps. “I’m going to head straight home.”
Rae nodded, letting me go ahead on my own to grab the horses. I left, assuming she’d go with her team to the cemetery, but was shocked to find she only exchanged a few words with them before returning to my side.
“Forget something?” I watched as Nico and Jonah piled into the RV with Esther in tow. My ranch hand hadvolunteered to be their tour guide through the maze of Alpine’s cemetery.
“I was hoping you and Wilson could teach me the recipe for that soup we had.” Rae scratched behind Kat’s ear, earning a sweet huff from the horse.
“You’re not going to burn the bones of some unfortunate murder victim?” I asked. “Isn’t this the part you signed up for?”
Rae’s smile waned. “We don’t do this for the hell of it.”
“No, I know…you’re doing it because you think it’s going to help. But it still feels very disrespectful.”
“You know, I wish sometimes I could be more like people like you. I wish I didn’t know that monsters in closets could be real. I don’t find joy in unearthing dark history. But someone has to do it. We do it so people like you have a choice to remain oblivious. So people like you don’t have to worry about how dark the world continues to become.”
The sharpness in her tone could cut ice. I considered what she lost by being born into this profession, inheriting the expectation of service instead of choosing it. Bearing all that responsibility on her shoulders and still maintaining a smile while doing so.
“I’m trying to make the best of it,” she continued, voice lower, exhausted. “Most days, it’s okay, but some days include hard parts like finding out that some guy was murdered and perhaps is now trapped in a loop of that pain. I’m lucky enough to have a team that allows me to step back sometimes and cook dinner with a client.”
She grabbed hold of Kat’s reins as she climbed on. “So, are we ready?”
I nodded numbly and followed her lead all the way home. Rae didn’t glance back at me once. Her confession rang through my head the entire ride, echoes of her honestyand notes of pain louder than the waves of silence between us.
Wilson greeted us at the door with his cheery smile and unfettered excitement when Rae mentioned his soup. December wore one of my aprons, bragging to her cousin about learning how to make bread.
“I’ll take them in,” I offered when Rae hesitated to leave me tending to the horses on my own. “You guys get started.”
