“Why do you keep the door locked?” River tried to peer in a cobweb-covered window. “Are there people in there? Animals? People-animals?”

This was already a bad idea. “I have cousins with small children,” Easton told her. “I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

She watched with eagerness as he unlocked the door and twisted the handle. The stupid thing always got stuck. “You’re totally going to take me captive, aren’t you?”

Did she have to sound so happy about the prospect?

“Remember, this was your idea, not mine,” Easton said. “I was fine drinking coffee at the kitchen table.” Setting his shoulder to the door, he gave enough of a shove to force the creaky thing open.

When she started to step inside, Easton grabbed for her hand. “Hold on. Let me find a light. It’s dangerous in here.”

“How dangerous? I’ll accidentally step in the pit you’ve dug to keep innocent, naïve film crews in type of dangerous?”

“Sue me and take my business and all my family’s property type of dangerous.”

“You’re not supporting the narrative I built up in my head about this, Easton. You’re being a party pooper.”

Wiping the cobwebs off his other hand, he found the light switch. “Yeah. That’s what people keep saying.”

The small wooden barn was flooded with light, albeit the muted light of bulbs covered in dust. There were very legitimate reasons why this barn had terrified him as a child.

River turned a circle, staring up at the ceiling and walls, where every farming utensil known to modern man was either hung or suspended. A table in the corner, stained with years of cleaning game, was particularly horrific to behold. Chains hung from beams for reasons still unknown to his adult mind.

And the scythe collection. Who kept a scythe collection?

“This. Is. Insane.” River’s eyes looked about to pop out of her head, they were so wide. “No, really, Easton. Your great-uncle was a nut job. Is that a headless mannequin?”

“There are more in the next room. Want to see?”

Of course she wanted to see. There wasn’t one or two. The barn was full of so many headless mannequins.

“What did he do with the heads?” River asked. “Do you think he kept them?”

“I always assumed they came without the heads.”

“No way. Not with that many scythes.”

Scratching the back of his neck, Easton felt obligated to defend his kin. “He was a nice man. Always helped out around the community.”

“As a cover for his evening exploits?” A gasp of utter delight came from her mouth. “This is so macabre. Let me film this. Please, pretty please, I have to film this.”

“No way. Okay, you’ve had your peek.” He started to gently herd her back into the main part of the barn and toward the door, but River ducked beneath his arm, sneaking past him.