Every Foul Spirit
“Um-hmm. Well, I believe tomorrow is the school outing over to the Grasslands, if I’m not mistaken. Field trip they take once a month.”
“Grasslands?”
“Yes. Blessing Acres, it used to be called. Now it’s Blessing Grasslands. Bison sanctuary.”
Katie smiled again. “I remember Blessing Acres.”
“Know where it is?”
“I’ll find it.”
“Wear boots. And remember . . . discreet. Stay safe.”
“Goodnight, Chief.”
“Goodnight, Katelyn.”
***
Eventually, Katie nodded off in an armchair by the window, photocopies of the victims’ images in her lap. As she dozed, her head leaning propped on one hand, something stirred and began waking up in the darkness outside the motel.
Bab Populer