Читать книгу Spindle Lane - Mark Reefe - Страница 13

Chapter 7

I played it cool the rest of the night and waited until Kevin went home the next morning before going back to see what my stalker had left. It was still way too early in our friendship for me to share this level of crazy with Kevin. Better to break him in slowly.

My hands shook as I shoveled up the loose dirt. Whatever was in the shallow hole was meant for me. It was supposed to be a secret, one shared between the two of us, monster and boy.

Something long and thin was in my hands. It was a leather strap. No, not a strap but a collar. A dog collar. I wiped the dirt away with my fingers and examined the splotches of cracked red covering it. I was still a little sleepy, so it took a few seconds to register. When I realized what I held in my hands, I dropped it. The collar was from one of the dogs on the bike trail, one of the unfortunate canines that had been slaughtered just a week ago. Even though there were no tags or anything to identify the dog or its owner, I knew that’s what it was. But why was the creature sharing it with me?

Something else was in the hole. I reached down and grabbed it, letting the extra dirt slip between my fingers. An orange butterfly barrette. This time I immediately knew where the tiny piece of plastic came from. It was one of a matching pair, and its twin was sitting on my sister’s dresser.

A cold sweat sprouted on my forehead. “Shit.”

The message was twofold, and it was received loud and clear. Part one: yes, I was the one on the bike trail that you interrupted in the middle of a furry buffet. Part two: know that I can get to you or your family anytime I want, so you should keep your mouth shut about what you’ve seen. But why the warning? Why even send me a message since I had no proof of anything? I had to be missing something. I pocketed the collar and barrette and—for reasons I couldn’t explain—filled the small hole back in. I stood up, dusted the dirt off my knees, and slowly started back home.

Closing my eyes, I unleashed my mind and let it wander to the dark places. I needed to figure out what was happening. Why was I being stalked? Who or what was coming for me? Every time I went over it in my head, it all came back to one place. White Marsh. The bike trail was where I first encountered the creature. Just after that it started following me everywhere I went…at least I think it did. Maybe something else was buried on the trail that it didn’t want me to find, or perhaps it had a lair hidden somewhere deep in the forest. And, most importantly, when was I going to stop referring to my stalker as a thing, creature, or beast and simply start calling it by its name—the Goatman.