2. Rae

The next day,I find myself leaning on the exterior of the mall, staring at the Galloway House. The employee door to the side opens. A middle-aged man with freshly dyed blonde hair and light blue eyes grins at me. The mall owner, Ned. He playfully bumps his broad shoulder into mine.

"Fancy seeing you here, beautiful," Ned teases, as if he hadn't just gone down on me in his office. "I didn't know you were out of the bathroom already."

"All clean now." I wink.

For a while, we stand in silence. Ned pulls out a vape pen, raspberry-flavored smoke wafting in the air, then offers it to me. I hold back a grimace—I hate raspberry—but I take a drag anyway, pretending to enjoy it.

The Galloway House's front porch overhang is slumped to the side, and the surrounding desert is littered with garbage and tumbleweeds. The only people who have stepped foot inside of it in years are probably squatters or teenagers looking for ghosts.

I gesture to the house. "Have you ever been in there?"

"The Galloway House?" Ned asks. He laughs, then shakes his head. "I own it technically. With the mall land, you know?"

My eyebrows lift in faux surprise. I did, in fact, know that he owned the house. It's exactly why I got a retail job at the mall. I wanted better access to the house, which meant I needed direct access to the mall owner himself. Older men like him are always easier to seduce.

"We were going to use it for an expansion," he adds. "Why do you ask?"

I shrug my shoulders. Ned doesn't need to know that my father died in that house.

"Curious, I guess," I say. "Why haven't you bulldozed it yet?"

"The architect got superstitious. And by the time?—"

"Superstitious?"

He exhales slowly. "People died in there."

Not murdered. Not committed suicide. Died.

He motions to the house. "The architect said there were still bad vibes there. I mean, I can see why she said that. It looks like it would collapse if you sneezed on it."

Ned offers me the vape pen again. This time I shake my head. I tap my lip, focusing on those words. It's not like I'm upset that my father is dead. I never knew him, and after twenty-five years, I'm doing fine without him. Still, it's strange to know that he once lived and died there.

The house glares down at us, looming from across the parking lot. I don't know much about the family of four that died there first, but I do know that my father died exactly like the first owner of the house: a gunshot wound to the head. There's something odd about that, but maybe it's a simple coincidence.

"It's not haunted, right?" I knock into Ned's shoulder. "Don't tell me you're scared."

"I let the dead rest." He puts the vape pen back in his pocket. "It's funny, though. This death bus tour used to come from Vegas. They'd use the Galloway House as one of their murder stops."

"And you allowed it?"

"We charged, of course, and we didn't let them go inside. The tour guide told the story, then they took pictures in front of it, like it was funny to see a place where six people were either murdered or killed themselves."

My shoulders stiffen, annoyance leaking through. It's always so easy for everyone to accept the "facts" of the case and not question anything. Especially someone good, like Ned.

"Maybe those people wanted to see the house because it wasn't murder-suicide," I say. "Maybe the police are hiding something."

Ned's jaw twitches. He studies me, his blue eyes suddenly cold.

"My brother works for the sheriff," he says. "The law enforcement out here does their best, Raven. They're here to protect us."

Not Rae. Not "beautiful." Raven.

"People have the right to know what happened," I say.

"And I have a duty to do what's right," he says. "And that includes always respecting law enforcement."

For the first time, I think I finally see the real Ned, the man that actually cares enough about something to let his sunny attitude fall to the wayside. A man who wants to keep people safe, even if that means arguing with me.

I shudder and bring myself back to the present.

"I'll be honest," I say quietly. Ned straightens, his eyes bright and full of concern again. "I'm personally interested in the house. It's not that I want to go in there. It's just that?—"

I think for a minute. If I tell Ned the truth, that my father is one of the supposed murder-suicide victims, it will explain why I can't let the past go. But then Ned may eventually realize that I'm using him to get closer to the property, that the only reason I'm at the mall in the first place, is for my father.

I almost feel bad for the lies I'm about to tell him, but no matter how many times he eats my pussy, my personal life is not his business.

"It's a project of mine," I say. "A podcast. Unsolved cases, you know? True crime. Super popular right now."

"The case is solved."

I laugh politely, then tuck hair behind my ears, playing it off like it's not a big deal. I fix my skirt and straighten my stockings. Ned's eyes follow my movements.

"I have a friend who knew the couple that died there," I say.

His eyes are glazed, fixed on my legs. "Ah, okay."

"You know, the Halls?" He nods. I continue: "You were around back then, right?"

"Yeah, but I was commuting to the university. I didn't spend a lot of time on the local news."

Just as I suspected: useless,I internally mock.

"But you've lived here your whole life, right?" I ask, trying another tactic.

"Yeah."

"Maybe you can help me find some locals to interview. People who were around here. Maybe even someone who knew Michael Hall personally."

"I'll have to introduce you to my niece."

"She was alive then?"

He shakes his head. "But she calls herself the Pahrump Crime Expert."

The corners of my lips raise in appreciation. "Honestly, I'll take all the help I can get."

"Are you going to let me take you out this time?" he asks suddenly.

Ned is in his forties, and yet even with his age, he's not used to having casual sex. Even though this is our fourth time hooking up, he still thinks we need to date. He's the kind of man my mother would like. An older man that can take care of me.

I've never been a girl you can take to family dinners though.

I force a smile. "Maybe next week," I say. I squeeze his shoulder, and he blushes. "I gotta go." I wink. "You already made me work overtime!"

He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Of course."

Before I go inside, I turn over my shoulder. I picture a shadow behind the curtains in the Galloway House. The strange figure watching me. Waiting for me.

I shrug my shoulders, then go inside the mall.