With nothing better to do, she decided to go for a walk. It was a lovely day, the sky a bright clear blue, the air warm, fragrant with the scent of flowers and grass. Susandale might be a small town, but it was immaculate. All the houses were well-tended, the lawns lush and green, the streets free of debris.
She was surprised when she turned the corner and saw a boy and girl playing catch in the middle of the street.
She paused to watch as they tossed a big blue rubber ball back and forth, the boy teasing his little sister when she missed. The two were obviously related. Both had the same build, the same red hair, the same sprinkling of freckles across their cheeks. They stopped playing when they saw her watching them.
Smiling, Sara said, “Hello.”
The little girl smiled shyly.
The boy looked at her suspiciously. “Who are you? I’ve never seen you before.”
“I’m new in town. I own Sara’s Sweets and Salts Shoppe over on Main Street.”
“My mom shops there,” the girl said. “Her name’s Olivia.”
Sara remembered her. Olivia Bowman had the same red hair as her kids. She had been friendlier than Sara’s other customers. “And what’s your name?”
“Debbie. I’m nine.”
“Where do you go to school?”
“Mom teaches us at home,” the girl replied.
“That’s nice. What does your daddy do?”
Debbie and her brother exchanged glances, their expressions suddenly wary.
“Why do you want to know?” the boy asked, his expression sullen.
“No particular reason,” Sara said. “I was just curious.”
“He sleeps all day,” Debbie said.
“Hush, Debbie,” the boy scolded. “You don’t need to tell her our business.”
Before Sara could think of anything else to say, the front door across the street opened and Olivia stepped out on the narrow porch. “Debbie! Luke! It’s time to come in.”
“It was nice to meet you,” Debbie said. “Bye.”
“Goodbye.” Sara looked over at Olivia and waved.
The woman hesitated, then waved back.
Sara was hoping to chat for a moment, but as soon as her kids were inside the house, Olivia closed the door.
With a shrug, Sara continued on down the street. She didn’t see any more kids, but a few doors down, she saw a woman on her knees, pulling weeds from the flowerbed in her front yard. She looked up, shading her eyes with her hand when Sara stopped on the sidewalk.
“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Sara remarked.
“Yes. You’re the woman from the candy shop, aren’t you?”
Sara nodded. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”
“Deanne. Are you planning to stay in Susandale?”
“Why, yes, I am. Why do you ask?”
“No reason. Most newcomers don’t stay long, that’s all.”
“Why is that, do you think?”
“We’re a small, tightly knit town.” Rising, Deanne brushed the dirt from the knees of her jeans. “Most people don’t think it’s a very friendly place.”
Sara took a step back. Was the woman telling her to leave? Feeling suddenly chilled, Sara smiled uncertainly and continued on her way. Maybe the town fathers —whoever they were—should change the sign at the town’s entrance from “Welcome” to “Susandale isn’t a very friendly place.”
She was almost home when a rather beat-up old green Dodge truck rattled past. The brake lights flashed as the truck slowed, then pulled a U-turn and drove up beside her.
A grinning Carl Overstreet stuck his head out the window. “Morning, Miss Sara.”
“Good morning, Mr. Overstreet.”
“Just Carl. What’s there to do in this burg on a Sunday?”
“Not much. Everything’s closed, I’m afraid. Even the café.”
“Yeah, I saw that.”
“Would you like to come over for lunch?” Sara asked impulsively, then wondered if it was wise, inviting a relative stranger into her house. Still, he seemed harmless enough. And she was lonely.
“That would be great. I was just wondering if I’d have to drive clear to the next town to grab a bite.”
“Well, it’s not altogether altruistic. I’m tired of my own company. I live in that next house,” she said. “And I’m only serving tuna fish sandwiches for lunch.”
“Sounds good to me.” He parked the car at the curb, then followed her up the flagstone walkway and into the house. At her invitation, he trailed her into kitchen and took a seat at the table.
She worked quickly and efficiently and in no time at all lunch was ready. She added pickles and potato chips to the plates and carried them to the table. “I’ve got soda, tea, or coffee. Or milk.”
“Just water is fine.”
She pulled a bottle from the refrigerator for him, grabbed a soda for herself, and then sat across from him. “I read your articles.”
“Yeah? I guess you think I made the whole thing up?”
“No. I’m sure you didn’t.”
He lifted one brow. “Most people don’t believe me. If they admit there are vampires, then they have to consider there might be other monsters lurking out there in the dark.”
“I was attacked by one Friday night.” She hadn’t meant to reveal that, but the words poured out of her mouth. “It was horrible! He yanked my car door clean off its hinges. I’ve never seen anything so frightening or been so scared in my whole life!”
Overstreet’s eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed. “Have you seen others?”
‘Others?” She shook her head. “Do you think there are more?” Sara put her sandwich aside, her appetite gone.
“It’s possible but doubtful. They tend to be solitary creatures, not given to sharing territory.” Or prey.
Sara nodded, hoping he knew what he was talking about.
“So, tell me, how did you get away from the vampire who attacked you?”
“A friend of mine came to the rescue. Lucky for me, he used to be a hunter.”
Overstreet grunted softly. So much for his story. The vampire was dead. Unless there were indeed others, as Joey Cannon had claimed. Carl finished his sandwich, suddenly eager to explore the town again before the sun set. “Thank you for lunch, Sara.
