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Oliver returned his grin, but it didn’t smooth out those shallow furrows in his brow. “I know how you operate. Making out always leads to sex.”
Dave put a hand down between them, the tarp crackling some more, and leaned in closer. “And what’s wrong with that?”
A scream sounded from off in the woods behind the motel.
They both jumped to their feet, eyes wide. Dave’s heart banged hard as they listened to the shrill and eerie scream continue for another few seconds before finally fading out.
“What in the fuck was that?” Oliver whispered.
“Perhaps Ruby the Vixen has decided to make her rounds before the sun sets?”
“Or she doesn’t like unexpected guests.”
“Does anyone?” Dave said.
“True.” Oliver looked toward the back wall of the room. “Should we go out and investigate?”
“That’s why we’re here, right?”
“Right.”
They both stood in place.
“You haven’t moved,” Dave said. “Are you scared?”
“Scared? No.” Oliver looked toward the open door, then back. “Maybe cautiously nervous?”
“You?” Dave lifted his eyebrows then picked up the battery powered lantern he’d packed. “You’ve faced down all sorts of creepy beasties.”
“Yeah, but the unknown is always scary. And ghosts are different. They’re not as familiar, not as… I don’t know, understandable, maybe? The Pinesville Devil—“
“You mean the Devil of Pinesville?” Dave said, turning for the door but looking over his shoulder and shaking his head as he gave Oliver his best disappointed look. “What would your grandmother say about you getting the name wrong?”
“Just leave the room, please,” Oliver said with a put-upon sigh that made Dave smile.
A narrow trail had been beaten into the weeds and undergrowth over the years, most likely by deer or other animals. It started at the back corner of the motel and disappeared into the trees. The sun was much lower than Dave would have liked for them to go hiking into the woods looking for a goddamn ghost. He’d been teasing Oliver about being scared a few minutes ago, but being out in the woods in the deepening twilight would definitely make him anxious and jumpy. He stopped at the edge of the trees and looked up and down the length of the back of the motel. It was a flat cinderblock wall, paint mostly peeled away, a single frosted window in each bathroom the only access point to any of the rooms from this side.
Unless the Vixen truly was a ghost, he reasoned, and then she could float right through the walls.
“Looks just as creepy from the back as it does in the front,” Oliver said.
Something moved out between the trees, and Dave and Oliver both whirled to face the woods again.
“Would a ghost make noises?” Dave whispered through a suddenly dry throat and mouth.
“Only to lure innocent victims to their deaths.”
“Not the reassurance I was looking for.”
“Sorry,” Oliver said. “But this isn’t helping us track down the screamer.”
“Right.” Dave looked down at his shoes. “My feet don’t seem to want to move.”
Oliver muttered something that sounded like “Damn Bower boys,” but Dave didn’t catch it all. Before he could ask him to repeat it, Oliver had moved past him along the trail into the woods, switching on the small flashlight he’d brought.
“And they were never seen or heard from again,” Dave muttered. He switched on the lantern and set off after Oliver as the darkening woods swallowed them up.
CHAPTER TWO
