Page 9 of Pareidolia

I need Noah Daniels to leave before he sees it and somehow realizes it’s the exact same place his brother’s blood soaked the ground eight years ago.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and I silently curse. I’m too excited about what just happened, amped up on the sensation that killing gave me—amped up on feeling something—to really hide it.

I nod. “Yeah, sorry. I’m a little freaked out,” I offer, forcing myself to smile. “First time camping here.” I lean in, lowering my voice to a whisper that I hope will dispel his concern. “I’ve heard it’s haunted.”

Noah laughs, and I nearly cringe. It sounds exactly the same as it had when I was growing up. I rarely went to Rory’s house, but I’d seen Noah around school all the time. We’d talked every now and then.

And…

“I don’t know about that. But if you’re nervous to camp alone, why are you out here?” He looks me up and down, arching a dark brow. His eyes are the same shade of dark brown that Rory’s had been.

“Adventure, I guess?” I shrug. “I’m a writer. I need the inspiration.”

He pulls off his hat to reveal a messy crop of black hair sticking up at odd angles, and tilts his head back, looking up at the span of sky above the treeline. “I don’t see any smoke now. About how long ago would you say you noticed it?”

I bite my lip. “Twenty, maybe thirty minutes ago? It petered out pretty quick. Seemed contained to me.”

Those dark eyes look me over. “And exactly who are you?”

Oh, I was hoping it wouldn’t come to him asking me that.

“Aspen.” I answer carefully. “Aspen Morrows.”

“Aspen,” he says like he’s tasting it on his tongue to see if it’s a lie. “Are you from around these parts, Aspen?”

And here’s the point where I have to figure out what path I want to take. If I’m going to stay here for a while, there’s every chance Noah Daniels is going to figure out who I am eventually.

But I don’t want him to know me now. Not when I’m standing so close to the place I killed his brother. If he starts asking me about it, trying to bring up memories of Rory, I’m half worried I’ll give myself away.

My hand drops to my pocket and I wrap my fingers around the knife and the bone shard, squeezing the mementos of my past sins like they can somehow anchor me to the present and help me get through this moment.

“I’ve been through here before, yeah.” I finally offer a half answer. “I’ll probably come into town in a few days to buy a hammer and some nails.” My gaze turns up to the fire tower. “Since I’m going to be camping here for a bit, I figure I might as well fix the place up. But not tonight.” I look at him pointedly. “I’m pretty tired from the trip.”

His eyes flick behind me, and for a moment my heart freezes. He’s looking at the ground where the body was. I think he sees the blood until he nods. “Looks like some of the railing broke off. If you want, I can bring you some new boards in the next few days and help you fix it.”

Noah starts forward like he means to scoop up the old pieces and check them out, and I dart around him, shifting some leaves onto the puddle of blood as I pick the broken railing up. My fingers bite into it, my palm covering the splintered edge that I’m pretty sure has a crimson stain. “Yeah, I was checking it out. It’s pretty wrecked, though.” I wiggle the wood as I say it. “I think it’s been broken for a while. It’ll be a fun project to fix it up.”

See, I think. I’m just an innocent horror writer here to fix up your local structures. No murder here.

My eyes shift to the forest one more time. The light is gone—the flash of red and white devoured by the trees.

There’s no point in chasing it when I have no idea where it went, and I really am tired. Disappointment rings hollow in my chest, heavy like lead and demanding I sleep it off before I get an early start tomorrow on work.

Apparently I’m convincing enough for Noah. He looks me over one last time, his eyes narrowing. I don’t like the flash of recognition in his gaze, but he finally shrugs and tips his stupid ranger hat at me. “All right. I’ll come check on you in the next few days and see if you need anything. If you’re in town, I’m the first big house on the main road, right by the welcome sign. Feel free to knock.”

It’s the same house he grew up in. The same house I walked to the day Rory died, before we came to the forest. The house right next to where I grew up.

“Thanks. I’m sure I can find it if I need it.”

I won’t need it, but…

And then, like he can’t help himself, he pulls a card out of his pocket and hands it to me. “And my number in case you need anything in the meantime.”

I don’t offer him my number back, but I do pocket the card. Maybe next time I have to threaten to call the authorities on someone I can flash it.

Though at this point, I’m more tempted to make another body and throw it down the side of the fire tower again. If I stand at the top and watch, will I finally see the thing that’s been taking them?

The only reason I don’t wonder if I imagined it is the solid feel of the knife and the bone shard pressing against my thigh. Mementos of my murders.