Page 17 of Some Kind of Haunted

“It’s amazing. Amelia would be so proud.”

Logan is not getting the hint to chill out. “The one thing missing from the paperwork I received on the store is the financial report.”

“Financial report,” Nora echoes. She looks a little lost. “I gave the lawyer all the information I have.”

“Profit-loss? Inventory? Accounting? All I received was information on the value of the building. Not the business.”

He’s being weirdly cold for a guy who made a best friend in a terrifying gas station last night. I can only stare at him.

“I’m sure . . . I’m sure I can get that for you,” Nora says, firming her voice as she goes. She even gives a little nod, but I think it’s more to reassure herself than Logan. “It just might take a few days to sort out. Amelia’s accounting was mainly on paper. I’ve been working to digitize it.”

“We’ll need everything before we make any decisions.”

“Fine. You’ll get it,” Cleo says, a little bitterly. “Did you see everything here you needed to see in order to consider your options?” She clearly wants us gone.

With the way Logan’s acting, I can’t blame her.

“Yes,” I reply, then whisper so only Logan can hear. “The robot impression is weird. Knock it off.”

But he ignores me. “We’ll take a few days. I’ll be in touch. With the lawyer,” he says, and he’s kind of looking at Nora, but mostly at a spot behind her head.

He makes a move to turn and head for the door, but Nora stops him.

“You guys can go out the back,” she rushes to offer. “It’s quicker. Amelia always went that way.” She waves us deeper into the store and we follow her back into the inventory area she already showed us. She points to a door even farther back. It’s propped open and a cool breeze that certainly wasn’t there earlier this morning is wafting through, bringing in pleasant scents of fall, earthy and sweet.

“Feel free to come and go this way. I lock up the shop after hours, but you’ve been given a key, too. This place is partly yours,” Nora says, over Cleo’s disapproving frown. “And I live upstairs if you have trouble with the dead bolt. It can be tricky.”

I ignore Cleo and beam at Nora. “Thank you, Nora. It was good to meet you.”

“You, too,” she says with an appreciative smile. “Come by anytime regardless of—” she glances at Logan, who is patently ignoring her “—business stuff.”

I nod. I notice Cleo is glaring at me just as much as at Logan, but it doesn’t bother me. She reminds me of a guard dog, and I feel like Nora might need one.

Logan and I move for the door. I step outside first, then jump back with a scream. Logan doesn’t scream, but he also jumps back.

There on the back concrete stoop is a mutilated . . . something. A mammal. Maybe a raccoon? Bloody and oozing, with flies already buzzing around it.

I look back at the two women who came running when I screamed. They’re exchanging a glance that feels . . . ominous. Because it’s not shocked in any way. When Cleo sees me staring, she shrugs.

“Cats,” she says. Her expression is bland.

“Those are some cats,” Logan says dryly, clearly not believing that story any more than I do. “Do you need help cleaning this up?”

“No,” Cleo says, and her smirk is back. “We’re locals. We’re good at cleaning up other people’s messes.”

And it’s Logan’s and my turn to share a look.

Because that sounds threatening, at best.

Chapter Seven

Logan and I don’t mention the raccoon at first.

We go to the grocery store. We marvel a bit at the low prices, while I complain bitterly about the lack of sparkling water options. Particularly when compared to the length and breadth of the cheese aisle. I think that for a little while we both want to pretend everything is the way it should be, which is to say, lacking in animal sacrifices.

We check out and are loading our haul into the trunk of the rental car when I decide enough time has passed that we can have a conversation about the most notable thing about the knitting shop that does not involve entrails. “What’s your problem with Nora?”

Logan stiffens. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”