And Olive almost told her then. Almost confessed everything—how school really sucked, how she skipped more often than went these days, how her dad had started tearing her bedroom apart, how she really was looking for the treasure and hoped it would help bring Mama back.

But then Riley turned and smiled at her, and it was a genuine smile, radiating happiness and relief.

“I’m really so happy you’re doing well, Ollie. I think a computer’s a great idea! Let me know if you need any help picking one out or setting it up or anything. I’m not an expert, but I know enough to get by.”

Olive nodded.

“And you know,” Riley added, putting her hand on Olive’s shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “If things ever weren’t going well at home, you could always come talk to me. And my guest room is always open, you know that, right? You can stay with me anytime.”

“I know, thanks.” Olive loved the idea of staying with her quirky aunt, but she knew she couldn’t leave her dad for long. She was all he had left. “But things are fine at home now. Really.”

Riley gave her a smile. “Just keep it in mind, ’kay? My door’s always open. And we’re still on for this weekend, right? Bride of Frankenstein and a double pepperoni pizza?”

“Absolutely,” Olive said, giving her aunt the best happy, well-adjusted, I’m doing fine, really smile she could muster. “And don’t forget the Swedish Fish!”

CHAPTER 9

Helen

JUNE 9, 2015

Something was eating the trailer.

It was a little after two in the morning and Helen had just come to bed after sitting in the kitchen, doing research on the computer, reading her library books, and drinking two cups of herbal tea liberally laced with brandy to help her get to sleep. Country living was not doing wonders for her insomnia. Back in the condo, there had been hundreds of channels of cable TV and the constant noise of traffic from the highway to help lull Helen to sleep.

Of course her research hadn’t exactly helped. She’d done a search on Hattie Breckenridge and discovered a brief entry from a collection of Vermont ghost stories written in the 1980s:

Hattie Breckenridge, legend had it, was the wife of the Devil himself, with a beauty no man could resist, even in death. To this day, residents of Hartsboro claim to see her in the woods and bog where she once lived, and some have been unlucky enough to follow her, to answer her siren’s call, and never find their way out of the woods again.