Page 3 of Calling Quarters

“What's your name, Miss?” the man asked skeptically, finally returning his gaze back to me.

I debated not telling him. Why would he need my name, anyway? If he were a real officer, he'd have asked for my license and registration and gotten that information himself. We stared each other down for a long, heavy moment before eventually, I caved. He was the only living soul I'd seen for nearly 24 hours and there was nothing he could do to me by simply knowing my name.

“Storie Graves.”

Recognition flashed across his features. He took me in once more, this time more unapologetically. “It can't be…” he whispered in disbelief.

Somehow, this strange man had heard my name before. He knew me, though I was certain we'd never met. His stony eyes softened then, the crow’s feet loosening just a tad. Something shifted within him. He dropped his hand from his gun and took a step closer.

“I'm just going to keep trying to turn around. I think I can find another way. Sorry to bother you, officer.”

“No!” he shouted, startling me. When he saw me jump, he lifted his hands, palms out. “I'm sorry. I just mean, this is the only road you can take to get to Beacon Grove. You won't find another way around.”

“Oh, okay, thank you.” I pressed the button to roll the window back up and he reached his hands out again, placing his fingers on the edge of the glass. It completely ceased movement at his touch, as if he were strong enough to stop it from going up any farther, though he didn't appear to be using any effort.

His voice dropped. “Who sent you here, Storie?” he demanded.

“What? No one sent me…”

I needed to get out of here. This man was clearly unhinged, and he was coming more undone as each minute passed.

His head shook. “I don't understand. You weren't supposed to come back. Unless… oh no, Asher... Is she okay?” he rambled, holding one hand on the window glass as he raked his fingers through thinning, black hair. His eyes looked tortured.

“How did you know Aunt Ash?” I asked before thinking. I shouldn't have been entertaining this mania. It was getting weirder by the minute.

Who was this random man and how did he know so much about me?

As far as I knew, Aunt Ash didn't have any remaining friends or family, especially from Beacon Grove. In fact, she'd spent so long drilling into my head that it was just her and me that I completely skipped over holding any sort of memorial service for her. There was no one to call and notify of her odd, tragic passing and no one left to guide me through the harrowing process of getting back onto my feet after losing a loved one.

A voice on his radio interrupted his response, snapping him back to reality. He quickly pulled himself together and stood up straighter, glancing into the woods.

“Beacon Grove is that way, Ma'am,” he pointed his finger down the road, past his vehicle. He then dropped his voice back down to a whisper. “If you're smart, you'll turn around now and forget this place ever existed.”

“I can't do that,” I found myself explaining.

He huffed out a breath and shook his head at my stubbornness. “Then don't trust a single soul you encounter there,” he warned. With that, he took a few steps back and turned toward his vehicle, calling over his shoulder, “I'll lead the way.”

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Beacon Grove was just as beautiful as the forest surrounding it. Officer Abbot was right, there didn't appear to be any other way in or out of the sleepy town aside from the dirt road we were on. His police cruiser led me back onto pavement and into a lot beside a building marked, “Beacon Grove Community Center.”

Once we were stopped, he stepped back out of his car and walked up to my window, staring in at me expectantly. There was something off about him, that much was obvious. But he'd managed to lead me where I was asking to go and didn't appear to want to harm me.

In fact, his oddness stemmed from his unnecessary concern for me. With that thought in the back of my mind, I rolled my window down halfway so we could talk.

His entire demeanor had shifted back to the authoritative figure that approached me from the start. Any fear or concern that he showed before about me or Aunt Ash was washed away during our short drive, and I couldn't help but wonder if I should have taken his warning more seriously. He clearly knew something dark about this place.

“There's one hotel and it's just up the street. It's run by Tabatha Granger and her granddaughter. They'll take good care of you during your stay. Let you know the best places to eat and such.” He pointed a finger toward a street that headed north. “You'll find the town's center just down that way. Might have spotty cell service anywhere on the outskirts, but we do our best to keep Wi-Fi connected throughout.”

“Okay, thank you, Officer.”

“Please, call me Kyle,” he insisted, his eyes softening a bit at the sides again as they grazed over my face once more. “You're a spitting image of your father.”

That had taken me back. What was wrong with this man to think that was an appropriate thing to say to a complete stranger? I'd expected to find people in this town who knew my parents—that was the whole point of coming here. But not this quickly, and not in such a creepy way.

Maybe they were so far removed from society, they'd forgotten simple customs. Perhaps that's why my parents left in the first place.

“I'm sorry. I don't mean to scare you. I grew up with your mom and dad. I suppose you should get used to people bringing them up. They were pretty popular around here and there's no denying that you've got their blood.” He dropped his voice and warned, “Just be careful who you spend your time with.”

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