The bell above the door of The Hanging Tree gave its usual chirp as Camilla stepped inside. The scent of roasted beans and cinnamon greeted her like an old friend. The barista barely looked up, just nodded in quiet recognition as she placed her order for a black coffee.

She sipped as she walked, the chill June morning slowly warming and reminding her that it was supposed to be summer. It was a short walk to the bookstore, a tiny storefront in the same strip of shops built into old western buildings that proudly showed the date they were erected in elaborate plaques right under their flat, square roofline. It was completely glass along the sidewalk, and hocked books old and new among plants that seemed to be growing wild in the sunlight. Bookstore was painted in giant swirling letters in the window, and the door proclaimed it to be "Thompson's Bookstore."

How creative.

Camilla pushed the door open, and the tinkling bell announced her entry with a sound far more delicate than the coffee shop's. A small warmth spread from her chest as the smell of old pages and amber incense wrapped around her like a blanket.

"Good morning!" called a voice from behind the front counter.

It wasn't Ellie.

A woman stood there, maybe in her seventies, draped in a moss-green shawl that matched her sharp, leaf-colored eyes. Her silver hair was swept up into a loose bun, pinned with what looked like a real bone. She was birdlike, elegant. Her smile was kind, but behind it was something else.

"You must be our newcomer," the woman said. "Camilla, isn't it?"

Camilla blinked once, then nodded. "Word travels fast."

"Oh, faster than the bus that brought you in, I'd imagine." She chuckled lightly. "I'm Ruth. Ellie's grandmother. I own the place. My granddaughter just manages the day-to-day."

Ruth stepped out from behind the counter, her movements graceful but slow, like a cat that still had claws. She looked Camilla up and down, not impolitely, but with depth. When their eyes met, Camilla felt it in her spine. A flicker of recognition. Or maybe suspicion.

"Well," Ruth said at last, smile still in place, "you've got the eyes of someone who asks a lot of questions."

Camilla returned the smile easily. "Only when I'm looking for something."

"Mm. Don't we all." Ruth's voice was gentle, but the words lingered like smoke.

"Camilla!"

Ellie appeared from the back room, brushing her hands on her skirt. "Sorry, I was sorting through the old folklore section. You came!"

"I said I would." Camilla smiled, grateful for the interruption. Ruth's gaze felt like a weight pressing on her shoulders.

Ellie gave her grandmother a kiss on the cheek. "I'll take it from here."

Ruth patted Ellie's hand, but her eyes never left Camilla. "Of course. I'll be just over there, cataloguing new arrivals. Let me know if you need anything... specific."

Camilla watched her walk away, a strange chill under her skin despite the cozy charm of the shop.

Ellie led her through a narrow aisle of worn paperbacks and pointed to a section marked Local Lore & Unexplained Phenomena.

"Thought you'd get a kick out of this shelf," she said, her tone brighter now.

Camilla let herself relax, just a bit. "Definitely my kind of reading," she said sarcastically. 

She picked up a book titled Mountain Myths and Small Town Secrets, flipping through pages of embellished legends and grainy black-and-white photos. She caught Ellie watching her with a curious expression, a slight wrinkle between her brows.

"You said you were looking into Marleen's case," Ellie said softly. "Still want to know more?"

Camilla met her eyes. "Always."

Ellie hesitated. "I told you some people think she was getting involved with the wrong types. There's a guy... Clay. Real quiet. Does odd jobs. Lives near the old train yard."

Camilla tucked the name away. "You think he's dangerous?"

"I think... I don't know. She changed. Marleen wasn't herself near the end." Ellie glanced over her shoulder, as if afraid her words might echo. "Just be careful, okay?"

Camilla nodded. "I appreciate you trusting me."

Ellie smiled. "You're different, but I like that. Just watch your back."

Camilla glanced toward the counter. Ruth was watching her again, flipping through an old leather-bound ledger with slow, deliberate movements.

"Yeah," Camilla said, almost to herself. "I think everyone in this town has eyes in the back of their head."

Ellie reached past Camilla and plucked a smaller volume off the shelf. Hand-bound with a twine-wrapped spine and no visible author. "This one's actually kind of creepy," she said, holding it out. "It's mostly stories from the miners who lived out west, near the old quarry. There's one about a woman in white that shows up before someone disappears."

Camilla raised an eyebrow and took it, an amused smile gracing her lips. She flipped through the brittle, yellowed pages. "Sounds promising."

"I thought you'd say that," Ellie said, giggling. Then she hesitated, glancing toward the shop's rear. "Do you want to see my favorite part of the store?"

Camilla gave a half-smile. "Lead the way."

Ellie turned and led her past narrow rows of books and dusty old cabinets, down a short hallway that opened into a side room lit by a wide stained-glass window. A mismatched quartet of armchairs sat across from a low round table, and every wall was covered in shelves—books, old maps, and antique figurines. A reading lamp arched over the seating, casting a buttery yellow glow that softened everything.

"Wow," Camilla said, surprised by the warmth in her own voice. "This is..."

"My little sanctuary," Ellie said, her voice quieter here, like the room demanded reverence. "I read here after closing sometimes. Or when Gran's in one of her moods."

Camilla ran a hand along the arm of the nearest chair and took a seat. It was firm but deep, the kind of chair that welcomed you to stay awhile.

"You can use this space too, if you want," Ellie added shyly, settling across from her. "For your research. Or writing. Or just... when you need quiet."

Camilla blinked, caught off guard. "That's really kind of you."

Ellie shrugged, but her smile lingered. "It feels right. You seem like someone who notices things."

Camilla tilted her head. "That a compliment?"

"Depends on what you notice." Ellie's eyes sparkled.

Camilla chuckled softly, then glanced out the window. The colored panes threw patches of blue and crimson light across the floor. She could imagine herself here—notes spread out, questions forming, threads of the town's secrets slowly being pulled apart.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "I might take you up on that."

Ellie gave a soft nod and stood. "I'll let you explore a bit. Holler if you need help finding anything." She lingered for a second, then turned and disappeared down the hall.

Camilla leaned back in the chair and exhaled slowly.

Warmth. Friendship. Kindness.

They were the most dangerous things in the world.

Camilla had just begun thumbing through the twine-bound miner folklore when the soft shuffle of feet returned down the hall. Ellie reappeared, balancing a small wooden tray with practiced ease.

"I brought bribes," she said cheerfully, setting the tray on the table between them. "Lemon shortbread and blackberry scones. Gran makes them from scratch and pretends it's to bring people in, but I think she just likes to bake."

Camilla couldn't help the way her mouth twitched into something like a smile. "That's awfully generous for someone I've only just met."

"Well," Ellie said, sinking back into the armchair with her own tea, "I figure if you're the kind of person who reads weird old ghost stories before noon, we're probably going to be friends."

Camilla bit into the shortbread. Buttery, delicate, a whisper of lemon. It was unfair, really—this girl with her genuine kindness and her scones and her sunlight laugh.

"So," Camilla said after a moment, brushing crumbs from her fingers. "You mentioned this Clay guy. What makes him one of the... wrong types?"

Ellie's face tightened, her fingers curling slightly around her teacup.

"Clay Harper," she said, voice quieter now. "He's one of those people who's always around, but no one really knows him. You know? Odd jobs. Fixes fences. Repairs sheds. Never makes a fuss. But he's got that look."

"What kind of look?"

Ellie stared into her tea like it might give her the words.

"Like he's watching everything. Like he knows something you don't. Not in a smart way. In a waiting kind of way." She hesitated. "Marleen used to volunteer out near the rail yard. Helping with those little community gardens? That's where she started talking to him."

Camilla tilted her head. "Started?"

Ellie nodded, frowning. "She mentioned him once or twice. Said he was quiet, but nice. Helped her carry things. But then she changed. Started skipping events. She got snappy. Defensive. It was like she was hiding something but didn't want anyone to ask."

"And no one else noticed?"

"Oh, people noticed," Ellie said. "But they told themselves it was stress. Or a phase. Or maybe she just needed space."

Camilla leaned forward slightly. "You didn't believe that."

Ellie shook her head. "No. I think Clay got in her head. And I think she didn't know how to get him out."

Camilla tapped her finger on the arm of the chair, thoughtful. "Do you know where I could find him?"

Ellie hesitated again, then nodded toward the back window, as if it pointed to some darker part of town. "Near the old train yard. Past the water tower. He's got a little house with a tin roof and a porch full of junk. You'll know it when you see it."

Camilla gave a slow nod. "Thanks. I'll be careful."

Ellie studied her, something serious behind her smile. "Just yesterday you were asking me about the places you shouldn't go so you could stay safe. This doesn't seem like the best thing to be doing if that's the case."

Her accusation was cutting and Camilla beamed at her across the table. "You got me. But how else am I supposed to know where to look if everyone keeps clamming up?"

Ellie's sweet nature caused her to return the smile, but it was tight with worry. I think if you are going to be putting yourself in danger like this you need someone to watch your back."

"I feel like your particular disposition wouldn't do me any favors on that front." Camilla said lightly taking another bite of her sweet confection.

Ellie's light laugh filled the space like a bell and she covered her mouth with her dainty fingers again. "I didn't mean me! I am actually good friends with the sheriff and I can set up a meeting between you and him. If he would let you in on the case I think it could help you both." She punctuated her words with a sip of her tea.

"I don't know about that either. Murder cases are very closed off, especially to the media. For a very good reason. I am not even here on official business. I have no ground to stand on to wiggle my way into an official investigation."

"Have you ever been invited into an official investigation before? Back whenever you were writing about murder in that big city you were from?"

Camilla's eyes flashed at the blonde and she seemed to deflate into her chair.

"I got curious and asked the McCurdy's about you. It's a small town! But I find it so exciting that you wrote about this stuff. It is a bit morbid that you had to deal with-" She paused and averted her gaze, "well, you know... All the time." She fiddled with her cup causing a slight clink before she looked back up. "So have you? If we can show proof to Sheriff Mallory he just couldn't say no to you joining! It would be a fresh pair of eyes at the very least!"

Camilla's eyes slid to the window again before she finally nodded. "Yeah. I have. I can send you links to some of my old articles."

Ellie almost levitated from her seat with excitement. "Yay! I'll send a message to him right away. I just have to say I have been so curious about where you came from and what exactly you wrote about. Nobody seemed to know when I asked them!" Her phone seemed to appear from nowhere and she began typing furiously.

She didn't realize when Camilla's easy smile faltered at that comment. She hadn't wanted to reveal that much of her past in this town. There were some things that would serve her better to keep buried in the past.

After a few more bursts of motion across the screen of her phone, Ellie became jazzed once again and looked back at her companion.

"He said if you bring those articles and some sort of proof that it was you who wrote them, then he can meet us over at the farmers market in a bit!" She seemed as if she would vibrate right off her seat. The image of a shaking chihuahua entered Camilla's mind.

"I guess that works for me."