Their Silent Graves (Detective Gina Harte #7) - Carla Kovach Page 0,8

brick of the closed accountant’s office where the man had just been standing. ‘Yes.’ But she wasn’t. When she got home, she was going to make sure all her doors were locked to the max and she knew she’d struggle to sleep. ‘That rude man in the café. I just saw him standing over there. Did you see him?’

‘No, he wasn’t there when I looked and I was looking for witnesses. In fact, after all the kids scarpered, there was no one around.’

That meant he’d been lurking around at the backs of the gardens, watching. She knew she’d got on the wrong side of him by the way he stared at her. The nape of her neck tingled.

Chapter Four

Now

Thursday, 29 October

As Tilly tripped over a clump of tree roots in the middle of the woods, she shrieked. ‘Katie, wait. This stupid dress. I know I shouldn’t have worn it and I don’t know why we came this way, I’m covered in mud.’

‘Don’t be silly. Logan is going to love you in the dress and it’s Halloween. No one else will be going as Frankenstein’s bride. It’s more original than my witch dress.’

Tilly rubbed the trail of blood from her knee before pulling the splinter out. ‘I can’t get up.’ She grabbed her phone and lit up the scene. ‘Why did you have to bring me this way? We should have got the bus.’ A few drops of rain began to fall.

‘But then we wouldn’t have this.’ Katie held up the bottle of cider that the old man purchased on their behalf from the corner shop.

‘I still wish we’d got the bus. It’s creepy out here and, besides, my mum would freak if she knew I was out here at night, especially with the flood warning out.’ Tilly grabbed onto a thick branch and pulled herself up. ‘I look a complete mess now.’

Katie pulled out her phone and took a photo. She batted the moth away with the other hand as it fought to reach the light on her screen.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Instagramming it. Send.’ She laughed, wiped the rain off her screen and popped her phone back into her bag.

‘Wait till later.’ Tilly shook her head and laughed. ‘Have you got any tissue or a make-up wipe?’

Katie nodded and began rummaging through her bag. ‘Here you go.’

As she cleaned the wound that the splinter had left, Tilly noticed her phone lighting up. ‘And queue the smarmy comments. Thanks, friend. I hate you sometimes.’

Katie giggled and opened the cider. ‘Did you hear the story about these woods? I think it was years ago, probably fifteen years ago or twenty years ago or more, I don’t know.’ She took a swig and offered the bottle to Tilly.

Tilly shook her head. ‘I don’t want to know while we’re in the woods. Tell me later when we’re at the party.’

‘You’re going to hear it anyway. Watch where you step. I know it’s a Halloween party and all, but I don’t want you to turn up covered in real blood or even dog muck. Right, the story. It was Halloween night, years ago, like proper olden times. A farm boy found out that his young love had been secretly seeing his older brother and his world fell apart when she told him that she’d accepted his proposal. He loved her more than anything but she didn’t feel the same. His rage built so much that he dragged her out into the woods where he’d already dug a hole. She said she didn’t love him and she also said that he was mad, so he buried her alive right where we’re standing. The story doesn’t end there. He not only took her life, but he slashed his own throat with a knife and died on top of her grave. Some people say that he rises every Halloween to look for another girl to bury, taking his revenge, over and over again. Logan told me that this happened only a few years ago; he’s heard the stories. A girl who looked just like the farm boy’s love is buried somewhere in these woods, trapped with her killer’s spirit forever. She roams on Halloween, along with all the other girls he’s exacted his revenge on. They don’t know they’re dead and search for a way out, but they can’t leave the woods. Imagine those poor girls, banging and clawing at the coffin as the oxygen was sucked out of the air. They never found his recent victim or

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