“Yeah, that’s a definite possibility. But I’m not sure if that would make it better or worse. Either way, there was something or someone in my backyard at two in the morning. I would have called the police, but they’re bloody useless and never answer the phones at night.” She snorted. “Plus, they’ve blacklisted me for too many complaints. If I’m going to get answers, it’s going to have to come from somewhere else.”
Keira could see where this was going. “Like from me.”
“It’s as I said: no one just passes through Blighty.” Zoe propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her palms. “And even if they did, they wouldn’t buy survival rations or look like they’re expecting to be jumped any second. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how many times you’ve looked at the door.”
Keira was about to insist she hadn’t, but then the bell above the door jingled as it opened, and her eyes flicked toward it. It was a reflexive action.
Zoe raised her eyebrows to make her point, and Keira adjusted her hold on the mug. She wasn’t sure she liked the panicked, overcautious person she seemed to be. Prudence told her to hide how she’d arrived in Blighty, but did she really have anything to lose by sharing her story? The men who had chased her were a threat, but they clearly hadn’t come from the town; otherwise, Adage would have recognized them. Zoe seemed harmless, despite her intensity. And Keira hated to admit it to herself, but she really wanted another ally.
She looked back at Zoe’s expectant, hopeful face and wet her lips. “Don’t share any of this, okay?”
“Of course.” Zoe’s expression instantly switched to one of solemn duty, and Keira failed to smother a chuckle.
“Okay. This is going to sound a bit crazy.”
“Oh good. That’s my favorite kind of story.”
Keira quickly covered the events from the previous twelve hours, starting with waking in the forest clearing and finishing with walking to town. She skipped over parts of the story that would raise too many questions—particularly the ghost outside her window, her shortage of money, and Mason’s visit—but didn’t hold anything else back. When she’d finished, she pushed her empty mug to one side and said, “So now I’m wondering if your skeleton man might be related. The end.”
“Wow.” Zoe’s face was placid, except for her eyes, which were as round as marbles. “You might just be the coolest person I’ve ever met.”
“I’m glad you think so because I feel decidedly uncool. I’m basically stuck waiting for my memories to come back or to be matched to a missing-persons report.”
“Stuck in Blighty,” Zoe added. “You poor soul.”
She snorted. “What’s so bad about it? It’s a cute town.”
“It’s boring as hell. Seriously, you’re the most interesting thing I’ve seen since aliens abducted my dog when I was eight.”
“What?”
Zoe waved the tangent away. “You’ve given me plenty to think about. I’d talk more, but I really need to get back to the store. Lucas will only put up with my shenanigans for so long.”
“And I need to head back to the parsonage,” Keira replied. “Adage might be home by now.”
“Eh, don’t bank on it if he’s making house calls. He’d talk a deaf man’s ear off.” Zoe took the napkin out from under her mug, wrapped the second muffin in it, and shoved it into Keira’s jacket pocket before she could object. “If you do figure out who you are, would you do me a huge favor and let me know before you leave town? This world’s got too many mysteries in it; I’d like to know that at least one is solved.”
Chapter Seven
Keira collected her groceries from the store while Zoe rescued a miserable Lucas from the checkout. The bags were heavy, but the walk to the shops had taken less than ten minutes, so Keira figured her muscles were up to the challenge.
Just like earlier, she put her head down and made herself small. She still attracted a handful of curious glances, but if Zoe had been right about Blighty’s isolation, it would be impossible not to.
A teen exited the bakery ahead of her, a partially eaten frosted pastry in one hand, and turned into Keira’s path. She tried to duck out of his way but was a second too late. They collided, Keira stumbled into the wall, and the teen made a choking noise as he stepped back. “What the hell!”
Keira struggled to draw breath. The impact hadn’t been hard enough to do more than rob her of her balance, but it had been accompanied by something else. Something stronger. An emotion, like a punch to her stomach. Dread.
She blinked at the strange man. He seemed a year or two younger than Keira, but he had the height advantage and used it to glower down at her.
“You nearly made me drop my lunch.” His lip curled up, disturbing the fuzz of a barely there mustache. “Are you going to apologize or what?”
She’d only felt it for the split second their bodies were in contact, but remnants of the sensation clung to her, like a thick, tacky oil she would never be free from. Her insides were cold, her palms sweating, every hair on her body raised.
The boy was scrawny, his overly fussy bleached hair matching a set of designer clothes. He didn’t look dangerous. But her subconscious both feared and hated him.
His disgust was growing thicker, and he took a step closer. Keira reflexively moved away, putting her back to the bakery’s brick wall.
“I know you heard me,” he said. “Apologize.”
It was a power play. He wanted to see how easily he could bend her to his will. Her subconscious had soaked in every detail about the stranger—the way he held himself; the cold, intense light in his eyes; the twist in his lips—and warned her the man blocking her path was uniquely unhinged. It would be stupid to challenge him, especially when she was trying not to draw attention to herself.
“I’m sorry we bumped into each other.” It was a compromise, and the truth.
The angle of his mouth suggested he didn’t appreciate her concession, but she wasn’t about to let him demand more. She ducked around him and increased her pace as she walked toward the end of the main road.
He didn’t follow, but she could feel the man’s eyes on her back for several long moments. His stare made her skin crawl.
As she retraced the path toward the church’s driveway, Keira couldn’t resist glancing into the florist’s. The pince-nez-wearing owner, Polly, was wrapping a bouquet for a customer. Keira found it impossible to imagine the tiny lady with permed hair and manicured nails as a vintage bank robber. Zoe had to be wrong about that, just like her subconscious was probably overreacting about the hostile man. She tried to put both thoughts out of her mind, no matter how resiliently they clung there.
It was still a chilly, damp day, but the sun had topped the trees, and Keira was sticky with sweat by the time the parsonage came into sight. She looked through the windows as she passed, but the rooms were dark and empty. As Zoe had predicted, Adage was still in town.
When Keira crossed the border into the cemetery, a slow, creeping chill slid over her. She knew it was because of the way the towering forest trees smothered the sunlight and dropped the temperature, but she couldn’t repress a shudder.