Joan Walker wearily climbed out of the taxi, her muscles stiff and sore from the long flight from New York. She had never been this far south before, and she immediately knew she was out of place here. Her short, layered hair clung to the back of her neck in the humidity, and her professional apparel made her feel overdressed.
----------------------------------
“I’m here investigating the town’s history. Hopefully something will turn up. My boss gave me this job because supposedly there’s a haunted house here.”
She saw him bite his lip. Hmm, interesting. So he was in on the town mystery. She was used to looking for any minor sign, from anybody, about a good story. One of the many talents of her job that was essential.
“Do you know anything about it?” She arched an eyebrow innocently. Maybe she could get some information from him.
---------------------------
Did she know where she was anyway? Was she taking notes on where she was staying? Tucker was pretty sure that she didn’t know she was staying at the “haunted house.” He decided to give her a fair warning. Maybe Emma was messing with the poor thing.
“You do know this is the Greene place, right?”
“Yeah.” She was still scribbling.
“Well, here’s your haunted house.” That seemed blunt enough.
He heard the pen tear a hole in the paper.
“W-What…?”