Darrowwood Part Three

3.

            Behind the door she could scarcely hear another soul in the house. She sort of preferred it that way. It made it a lot easier to read her subscriptions to the various publications she had received as gifts over the years. Her favorite writer was one Patricia Longbone, a steely-eyed investigative reporter whose pen was as sharp as her glance.  If a poster had existed with her face on it, Monica would have tacked it to the ceiling.  As things were, she had to be content with sticking some of Patricia’s award-winning articles up there, and a few interview quotes.
           "Beware of stories too full of coincidences. No thing is a coincidence."
            "Follow, catch, question."
            "Go where the story begins."

            Monica happened to look at the alarm clock. The red display read 8:05. She cursed under her breath, grabbed her jacket, and high-tailed it over to Jenny’s house.

            “Oh, hey, my mom made cinnamon buns,” Jenny said when Monica stepped into the living room.  It was a wide, warm room, filled with lots of antique books, and some newish ones, too.  Recent additions to the friendly space included a wide arc of little Jack’s toys strewn across the seating area.

            “Thanks, Mrs. D,” Monica told the woman holding the basket with its sticky glazed buns.

            “You’re very welcome,” Jenny’s mother replied.  “You girls have some fun, too.  You can’t be studying all the time.” She winked.

            “We will,” the girls chorused.

            “C’mon,” Jenny said.  The friends stepped over more baby toys in the hall.  As they passed the master bedroom, Monica saw the trophy case with all of Mr. Daniel’s old band memorabilia. She was about to ask Jenny if he had made any repairs to his collection lately, but her friend was striding purposefully down the hallway, and so she decided to leave it alone.

             They plopped themselves down on the comforter in the obnoxious purple bedroom that Jenny shared with her younger sister, Sarah.
             “So, dish the dirt on Kevin,” Monica said.  She rolled over on the bed to look at Jenny’s wall, tacked with years of notes passed between them in class, photographs of faraway places, and pictures of the Daniels family.  “Oh hey, next to your pyramid there, is that the note you picked up when it fell from his bag?”

            “Actually, I want to talk to you about something else.”  Jenny’s eyes darted sideways, and then back.  She lowered her voice.  “Have you heard about a place called Darrowwood?”

Read Part 4