A breeze kicked up and sent late October leaves skittering across the concrete parking lot of Sleepy Cove's only gas-n-grocery.
Wendy Brooks smacked her hand on top of her head to keep her straw hat from flying off to parts unknown. Tall dead grass swayed in the wind beside a rusted-out old bus over to one side of the store. Time hadn't stood still here; it had missed this town altogether.
After the wind quieted down, Wendy started toward the store. A chill snaked up her spine that had nothing to do with the cold. She looked over her shoulder.
A little girl stood near the gravel road that ran by the store. She wore a frilly white dress, with matching hair-bows clipped onto curly strawberry blonde locks. Pale skin made her lips appear blood red.
Wendy shivered, then berated herself. Get a grip! It's just a little girl. The door to the store opened, and she cast a glance at the young man who walked out. He tipped his hat. She smiled, then turned her attention back to the child.
She was no longer there.
