Page 12 of Statler

But Eliza had been sworn to secrecy; threatened even.

Which had led to her attacking something she’d been picking at, even more aggressively.

Things weren’t just wrong in Liminal; they were deadly.

In spite of the fact that Holden hadn’t shared the misgivings he’d obviously suffered during the final months of his life, there’d been so many unspoken clues that pointed to him being dragged into something illegal; something nefarious that was ongoing at the factory. And Eliza was slowly unearthing all of it.

If William Flazer thought Eliza had any inkling of what was actually happening at his hands, he’d never let her leave town. At least not alive.

And just like with Holden, if Eliza died, nobody would worry unduly over her cause of death.

It was the way things were done, here.

Eliza looked at the clock again.

Noon.

Despite her descent into troubling thoughts, she’d managed to work her way through a pile of paperwork, and get the employee hours from the previous week logged in so that paychecks could be issued the following day.

But where was her father’s contractor?

Just as she was getting ready to buzz William on the intercom and ask if there’d been an unexpected delay, a slight knock sounded on the door.

It slowly opened.

To…

Oh. My. God.

The man who walked in was jaw-droppingly handsome, and…

Rugged, was the first word that sprang into Eliza’s head.

He was all male; worn boots, faded jeans, flannel shirt, Carhartt vest. And he filled out those clothes…substantially. Even though nothing he wore overtly showcased his muscles, Eliza could tell they were all there. In spades.

The man’s dirty-blond hair—the soft-ends just brushing his collar—was in glorious disarray, as if the early fall wind outside had run its ghostly fingers through his lush strands. Eliza imagined that if she buried her nose in it, she’d smell the freshness of that cool air trapped there.

But truly, it was his eyes that held her spellbound.

They were gray. Tenderly gray. They reminded Eliza of Pussy Willows; soft and warm, cozy and familiar. Although somehow, she just knew those welcoming orbs could turn glacial in a heartbeat.

Eliza shook herself out of her trance.

Fanciful wasn’t getting her anywhere.

“Hi. I’m Eliza,” she managed, standing up and extending her hand. “I’m assuming you’re Mr. Bothswait?”

“I am,” he said.

His voice like smooth, rich caramel, flowed over every one of her senses. “But you can call me Statler.”

He took her proffered palm, and…

It was all over.

Goddammit.

Eliza fell into love for the second time in her life.