"We're about halfway there," Emery told her mother on the phone, as she glanced out the diner window. "We got hungry on the way and saw this little place that supposedly has the 'World's Best Turkeyburger'."
The diner's air smelled faintly of stale chips and old cleaning supplies. Emery wiggled her nose every few seconds to try and shake the smells away. In an attempt to distract herself from her nose prickle, she scanned the diner once more. The scarce crowd did little to prove this was the world's best anything. With only five customers, it was awkwardly quiet with the exception of an old antennae radio playing the best 80's hits in a station Emery didn't recognize.
If this was desolate, she wondered how empty Bellenau was. It was still a few hours up the mountain. She didn't remember much about her visits there, but—according to the web—it was a town in decline.
Bellenau had a total of 3,042 inhabitants. The number decreased every year. The local school was in a horrid state; there were only small businesses and local agriculture; it was hard to get anything shipped in or out; and, according to a very angry bed & breakfast review, the internet was crap. Everywhere.
"Emery are you listening to me?!" her mother barked through the phone speaker so loudly, even Seth flinched.
"Yes! I got it already. I will thank Mrs. Baker for taking us in when we get there."
"Good," Anabella responded. "She's being more than generous, so it's only fair you help her around the library. Don't be tardy and work hard."
"I still don't understand why we can't stay at Grandpa's. It can't be that bad."
"Be my guest, if you like sleeping on the floor and without a roof. There's nothing left there."
"What about Grandpa's things?" Emery asked, knowing well he had many valuables in that house. Maybe some of the antiques would jog her memory or something.
Anabella hummed, thinking it over. "Well, I only kept a handful . . . whatever was really memorable. The rest were donated to the library."
A sense of excitement flooded her senses. It seemed her luck was finally turning around. What were the odds of her working in the same place her grandfather's things were? This trip was going to be a piece of cake.
Emery flinched the thoughts away as Seth pointed behind her. The overpowering smell of freshly grilled meat wafted up to her nose. With a look over her shoulder, her mouth turned to water. A waitress walked up to their table, two steaming burgers on her tray.
"Gotta go. Food's here. Love you." Emery hung up quickly. She couldn't let her mother's rants come between her and the food. Shiny, greasy yellow cheese melted off the tender patty and onto her plate. Her stomach erupted in a hungry growl.
"That's the . . . sixth time your Mom has called today?" Seth asked, slurping his cake-flavored smoothie.
Emery slumped her shoulders. "I shouldn't have told her what happened at Dr. Lloyd's. Maybe I should've told her that we're going on vacation and never even mentioned Bellenau or that weird symbol."
Seth gazed at Emery, his mouth twitching up into a contented smile as she hungrily gulped down a handful of french fries. "She's always worried about you, though. Regardless of the trip." He shrugged, before reaching a hand into her plate of fries and popping one in his mouth.
"Yeah, but . . . it feels different this time. She kept trying to talk me out of going. It's like Bellenau itself worries her more than whatever's wrong with my head." Her voice faded off as she took a big bite of her burger, her cheeks resembling a chipmunk's while she chewed.
"Excuse me," someone interrupted. "Did I hear you's going to Bellenau?" They looked toward the bar and saw an old man, wearing some hunting gear, turning their way. "I wouldn't even go near that cursed town if I were you."
Seth immediately shrunk back in his seat. After a big, nervous gulp, he asked, "Why's that?"
The old man cringed, his crinkly eyes turning into two sloped lines. "Haven't you heard the rumors about that place?"
Emery swallowed her food; her eyes beamed with curiosity. "No, what rumors?"
"They say it's haunted." The man grabbed his cup of coffee and approached them. Beads of the hot drink were just about to drip off his staticky beard. Emery resisted the urge to hand him a napkin. Keeping his head low and voice just above a whisper, the man told them, "Crazy stuff happens too often. Why years ago, there was a fire in the town library. Killed all of ten people, it did."
Seth flashed a knowing look to Emery. They knew exactly what fire the old man spoke about. How could she not? Mysterious fires happened all the time in the Bellenau mountains. A fire killed Grandpa Joey, and that library fire the man spoke about? It took Mama Emma's life.
Seth made a move to keep the man from talking, but Emery stopped him, by laying a hand over his arm. She wanted to hear what he had to say.
"When the library was good and closed, flames burst out in the middle of the night," the man continued. "Many of the victims didn't even work there. No one knows what they were doing there or what caused it. There were no survivors and no witnesses. The townspeople tried to save someone . . . anyone, but they were too late. Fire swelled up in a manner of minutes. It always does in that town. I'm telling ya."
It appeared he'd finished his story, but by his puckered lips and pensive gaze, Emery thought he had more to say. "You have a theory?" she guessed.
He slammed the cup against the wooden table, nearly spilling it over their food as he told them, "I call witchcraft. All that fire was a cult sacrifice gone wrong."
Emery listened with a straight face. She reached a hand to the stack of napkins and handed him three. He realized he'd spilled some of the coffee and wiped it clean.
"I don't think it's fair to the victims to make them part of your ghost stories."
"You're a non-believer, are ya?" he asked, stuffing the dirty napkin into the pocket of his vest.
She shrugged. "I like things to make sense. Your story? It's got some holes."
The waitress returned, slipping in between them to leave the bill on the table. Her eyes moved to the old man in a pointed glare. "Scaring my customers again, Jenkins? I'm sorry. I keep telling him not to do that."
Unease settled in the pit of her stomach. The idea of her grandparents' death becoming campfire stories felt wrong. Her teeth ground against each other as she tried to find some sense in his tale.
Despite the fact that her unfinished burger looked entirely delectable, Emery had lost her appetite. She excused herself quickly and made her way outside. A scowl sneaked into her features as she leaned against their old scrap of a car. With her eyes trained on the mountain woods, she kicked against the parking lot pebbles and let out an angry huff.
It seemed her family was doomed to mysterious circumstances. The library fire now piqued her interest, and she felt like she had to investigate that too. She felt like she was one step farther from the badge.
That old man's crazy. Ridiculous!
Her grandmother was not some sort of cult witch! Fires just happened sometimes, but then again, what were ten people doing in the Bellenau Library so late? In a town with so little to do, she doubted they were up late having a tea party. It was strange, she'd admit that, but she was still far from believing this had anything to do with—
"Magic," she laughed. "What a loon."
"Hey." Seth appeared around the car, holding two white to-go containers in his hands. "You okay? That was kind of strange back there."
Emery shook her head. "Sorry, I'm fine. I'm just. . . ."
"Anxious to get this over with?" he finished for her.
She smiled. "Yes. Exactly."
"I know." He showed her the containers and told her, "That's why I got these to go." He walked back around toward the driver's seat and chuckled. "A cult?"
"I know!" she laughed.
He shook his head. "Crazy."
⤝◈◈◈◈◈⤞
"Welcome! Hello, hello! You must be Seth," a round, stout woman yelled as soon as they parked in her driveway. Seth barely had one foot out of the car before she yanked him by the shoulders and planted a kiss on each cheek. After giving him a very tight-looking hug, she looked in the car and waved quickly to her other guest, "Welcome, Emery. Oh, I'm so glad you've made a safe trip. I was up praying all night for you two."
Emery waved back."Hi, Mrs. Baker?"
"Why yes! Don't you remember me?" The chubby woman waddled over quickly, her back ever-so-slightly hunched over with age. She held up a hand next to her waist and said, "You used to come visit when you were this high. Used to pick my flowers and hand them all over town as gifts. Made me so mad." She laughed before pinching her cheek and planting a kiss on her forehead.
The girl flinched at the sudden affection but tried her best to grin. She looked up at the tall, wooden house, trying to search for some hint or memory, but came up blank. There was nothing about this town that seemed familiar. She didn't even notice when they passed by her grandparent's store. It was all a blur.
"Sorry, guess it's been a few years," she replied, stepping out to get her luggage out of the backseat of their car. Fourteen, to be exact . . .
"More than a few," Mrs. Baker replied solemnly, laying a hand over Emery's as soon as she was close enough. "Which means we'll have much to talk about. Hurry along; I've made some coffee. You must be tired from that long trip."
"Nine hours," Seth replied, with an exhausted sigh. The trip was starting to take its toll. He dragged his bags behind him as they went up the stairs of the mahogany porch. Guilt pricked at her heart. Poor guy . . . She didn't remember the ride from Wimbourne to Bellenau to be so long.
Mrs. Baker took one look at Seth and chuckled. "Then, I suppose it'd be best to show you to your rooms first. We'll talk tomorrow when you're well-rested."
She pushed the front door open and asked them to mind their step.
Anywhere else, that would've been common courtesy, but at Mrs. Baker's you literally had to be careful about where you walked. The place was full to the brim with every type of knick-knack, antique, and doohickey you could think of. It was a miracle if you made your way around without bumping against a porcelain dog or some kind of decorative plate.
Emery walked extra slowly. She fully recognized that gentleness and delicacy were not her virtues. She barely blinked so that she could be wary of Mrs. Baker's collection of hand-painted ceramic spoons by the hallway entrance and her big painting of Yellowstone, laying unhung next to a bathroom door. There was so much decor the house felt busy.
When Mrs. Baker finally told them, "This'll be your room," Emery couldn't help but let out a breath of relief. She was about to walk in, but Mrs. Baker giggled, "Oh, no. I meant Seth's room."
The couple shared an embarrassed look.
"Excuse me, ma'am," Seth said, nervously scratching at the red curls on the nape of his neck. "You do know we live together? One room would be fine."
Mrs. Baker shook her head. "None of that. You'll each have a room. No exceptions."
Emery took one look at Seth's pursed lips and stifled a laugh. If he didn't regret this trip before, he was starting to. "Two rooms will be fine. We're your guests, ma'am."
"Your room is this way." Mrs. Baker dragged her back down the hallway. She mouthed apologies at Seth over her shoulder while he smiled and shook his head. The old woman walked to the right of the hallway and opened a door, revealing some steep stairs. "Just up the stairs, now. I gave you the best view in the house."
"If you don't mind. I'll take you up on that coffee."
"Oh, yes!" Mrs. Baker exclaimed, her cheekbones popping out from her chubby cheeks every time she grinned. "I'll go warm it up."
The steps were long and tall. She wondered if the elderly woman ever headed up here at all. A dim light glazed over the stairs, coming from the open door atop the staircase.
"Best view is right," she whispered when she first stepped into the room. A big round window looked out into Bellenau, just in front of a large bed, cushioned with about five sets of flowery pillows. She dropped her bags before stepping toward the opening. Her eyes scanned the town warily. It was beautiful, yes . . . But, not nostalgic.
Nothing rang a bell.
Did I make a mistake coming here?
"Cookies and coffee are waiting for you!" Mrs. Baker yelled all the way from downstairs. "Come down while they're hot."
Emery jogged down the stairs where the woman was waiting to lead her toward the kitchen. She showed her a seat on a picturesque table with a hand-knitted mantel. A plate of steaming chocolate cookies was set in the middle.
"Thank you, but I think I've had enough junk food today," she explained, feeling embarrassed. "We had some burgers and shakes earlier. So, I'm still full."
Mrs. Baker furrowed her white eyebrows and looked Emery up and down. "I think you could stand for a lot more. You seem very fit."
"Kind of have to be," she explained, while Mrs. Baker placed a cookie next to her coffee cup.
"Ah, yes. Anabella told me you're a future policewoman," she remembered. New wrinkles appeared everywhere as she stretched her mouth into a smile. Emery noticed a silver crown next to her two front teeth.
Trying not to seem impolite, Emery took a bite out of the freshly-baked cookie and nodded.
"So, what brings you to Bellenau in the first place? An early vacation before you become a working woman?"
"I'm investigating."
"Investigating? Whatever for?"
Might as well start now, she thought.
"I'm trying to find out more about the family tree. You knew my grandparents, right? You were close with them?"
"As close as one could be. They mostly kept to themselves, those two. Your Grandpa Joey was always very friendly. Now, Emma . . . Your Grandma . . . I remember her always being very serious. Always busy with one thing or another. And that's a hard thing to do in a town like Bellenau, where no one's ever busy."
"What was she busy doing?"
The old woman dipped a cookie in the coffee before taking a bite. "Hmm . . . Working at the shop, mostly. She also volunteered at the library, and sometimes helped the town council with whatever needed to be done."
Emery's ears perked up at the mention of the library.
"Mrs. Baker," she started, after taking a sip of her coffee. "Do you know what happened to my grandmother? Mom has always been very vague about it."
The old woman frowned. "We don't like speaking about those tragedies."
"I understand," Emery backed off. "I just want— I need to make sense of it."
"You always were a meddler." Mrs. Baker clicked her tongue. "Well, no one really knows what happened. Not even police made sense of it, but . . . You're welcome to look around the town records down at the library. There's not much; you'll only find the ones dated after the fire."
A small, thankful smile stretched upon her lips as she chewed her last bite of the cookie. "That'd be a great help."
"Well, that's that. Tomorrow's Sunday, so we can head there as soon as you wake up." With two sympathetic pats atop Emery's hand, she added, "Just . . . don't be too disappointed if you don't find anything."
The girl furrowed her brow in worry. Surely, there must've been some lead she could follow. Something to make sense of it, right? She didn't come here to solve mysteries, but all this ambiguity around her grandmother's death bothered her.
If nothing else, this whole mystery was good detective practice. Imagine the glowing recognition she'd get if she got to the bottom of an unsolved case. No matter what Mrs. Baker said, when Emery was determined, she wouldn't fail. No matter what.
"Now . . ." Mrs. Baker cleared her throat and placed another cookie on her plate. "What's this about you and Seth living together?"