Page 10 of The Girl on Hallow's Eve

“And I’m so glad you did! I apologize that you didn’t receive your invitation. I’ll look into it and find out where the chain of command broke. But we’d still love to provide you a private tour.”

‘Chain of command’ seems a touch extreme considering the circumstances, but I nod.

“That would be great.”

Keilan grins even wider. He gestures toward Marissa.

“Marissa, please. Show them everything and answer all their questions. And if you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to get in touch with me.”

Marissa sweeps her hands toward the rest of the mall and Sam and I fall into step beside her. I thought this was going to be just a casual stroll through the new mall. Now we’re on display as the guide parades us directly toward the anchor store at the end of the hall.

Despite the start of the tour being a bit odd, I’m impressed by the mall. Marissa takes great care to tell us about all the features, pointing out details and occasionally leaning toward us and lowering her voice to tell us about upcoming additions and planned events as if she’s letting us in on a special secret. I wonder if the other tour guides are leaning toward their own guests at the same time. Then again, we were apparently on the special invite list. Maybe we really are being given something a little extra.

As we stroll from one side to the other across the end of the food court, my mind automatically searches for the smell of soft pretzels glazed with butter and greasy slices of pizza, but the restaurants aren’t up and running yet. I think about the invitation Keilan seemed very distressed I didn’t receive. It clearly wasn’t a ruse he came up with on the fly when he found out we were there. Marissa is the one who’d mentioned it first, and I highly doubt a tour guide would come up with something like that and convince an executive to go along with it.

This man not only knew I live in Sherwood and who I am, but made an effort to get me to come to today’s Open House. I haven’t seen any other members of the community I would consider important, but I’m assuming if any of them actually received their invitations, they arrived at the beginning of the day or are planning on coming later, if at all. I can understand the compulsion of the developers to want to get prominent people to come see the mall and spread the good word about it. Especially in small towns like Sherwood and the surrounding areas, the opinions of trusted neighbors are often far more powerful and effective than any kind of marketing campaign.

But why send invitations to a public event? And why not follow up on them? And what happened to my invitation?

The tendency to question everything isn’t new to me. It’s how I learned to work through my investigations, but over the years it bled over into my personal life. Few things in my life are taken at face value. Most of the time, I try to quiet it. Not everything needs to be dismantled. But it’s much easier to tell myself those questions don’t need to exist than it is to actually stop my brain from asking them.

We’ve just gone past a gleaming shoe store and are making our way toward a corner that houses a hair and nail salon and another anchor store when a pair of angry voices drift to our ears. They’re muffled, but loud enough to make Marissa’s words falter and Sam start looking around.

“I told you to stay away from here,” one of the voices hisses.

“It’s an open house. Everybody is welcome,” another replies in a dangerous blend of anger and taunting.

“Not you. You’ve caused enough difficulty. Everybody has heard you. It’s not going to do anything. Just give up.”

“I don’t care what you say, I’m not giving up,” the first voice fires back. “Not until all of you pay for destroying our lives.”

Marissa clears her throat. “Right over here is a lounge where customers with appointments at the salon will be able to relax while they wait for their turn or for others if they come as a group,” she says in an elevated voice as she gestures across the open area of the mall.

Her eyebrows are lifted slightly and her eyes are bigger as she clearly tries to distract us from the argument playing out somewhere near us. Sam and I don’t move as she takes a few steps away.

“Where are they?” I ask him.

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t threaten me,” the first voice says, dropping to a grittier tone. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

“I can say the same for you. You’ve underestimated us. All of us. You’re going to regret coming here.”

“If you’ll please follow me. There are a few more things to see,” Marissa instructs. Her singsong voice combined with the likely unintentional rhyme only underscore the panic she seems to be feeling.

“Get out of here before I call the police,” the first voice says.

“Oh, like they’ve done so much before.”

A second later, there’s a loud crashing sound and another man in a dark suit storms out of a narrow hallway leading off the main corridor. He looks from side to side, catching my eyes for a brief moment before turning and heading toward the front of the mall again. I wait for someone else, but no one else follows.

“Who was that?” I ask Marissa.

“Mr. Rainey. He’s from the development company,” she says.

“What was that all about?” I ask.

She shakes her head, continuing to gaze back at me with wide, innocent eyes.

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