[Ambys 2022: Mystery/Thriller Winner]
Discovering a dead body just minutes from her cottage in the trees is the last thing Dray Dinley expects upon moving to the remote town of Hero.
Being convinced by the town outcast and suspected murderer, Wells...
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Dray slipped out her phone and snapped a picture of the page. The shutter sound crashed into her ears. She flinched and slammed the lost and found book shut.
On her way out of the room, her eyes averted to the ground and she raced out as fast as she could without running. With her head down and hands jammed into her pockets, Dray realized half way out of the station that she looked more suspicious than not.
Porter paced by the curb, smoking as she ran down the steps. "Did you find what you needed?" He dropped the cigarette and stomped it out.
"No, I didn't." Adrenaline tumbled through her veins and her eyes darted around the street.
He squinted at her and nodded. "You ready for home, then?"
Dray sighed and brushed her fingers through her hair. "Yes, but I will walk home by myself. It's fine."
Porter scoffed and walked up to her. "Don't be silly. It's getting dark and you're a lady."
He swung his arm around her shoulder. The dingy smell of his shirt wafted over her face.
Porter casually strolled down the street. Dray lengthened her strides as much as they would go. She kept her arms tight to her body, clenching her jaw. The only good thing about the walk being that Porter wouldn't shut up about himself. Dray didn't have to pretend to listen because she couldn't get a word in edgewise.
Once they reached the edge of her driveway, Porter let go—possibly because of Dray's abrupt stop—but his hand lingered on her arm. "I can wait and make sure you get in," he said.
She rolled her eyes and jingled her keys in front of his face. "It's fine Porter. Go home."
Undeterred by her lack of pleasantries, Porter chuckled. "All right. I'll see you tomorrow."
Fat chance she'd let that happen.
Dray nodded once and walked to her front door, waving without turning back around. Jamming her key in the lock caused it to stick. She groaned and peered behind her. Porter had left, luckily. She didn't need him seeing her struggle because something told her he'd find a way to stick around.
Maybe she'd stay in tomorrow.
The door finally opened with an angry jerk of the key, but one step over the threshold stopped Dray in her tracks. A piece of paper crumpled under her shoe.
More curious than scared—which only worried her for half a second—she picked up the paper and smoothed it out on her thigh. Messy writing scrawled across the top in pen.
Wells wrote her to go to his house when she got back.
Dray grinned and stepped backwards out of the doorway, locking her house back up. She bounded down the steps for the quick trip down the street. Jogging through his front lawn, she jumped up the last few steps, but her hand froze on the doorknob.
