The bottom floor of the mill, built into the side of a man-made hill alongside the millpond, was designed to hold the gear housings and insulate against moisture.He’d chosen to set up his temporary residence down here for practical purposes, not comfort. Customers saw the main floor and the storage area above it, where they placed the grain they brought for him to grind into flour. Gavin couldn’t have a pallet and sundry items laying about the business. Tucked into the corner farthest from the gears down here, no one saw. The lack of light helped with that, of course.Down here, no windows invited cheery rays of sunshine to brighten the darkness. Morning arrived unheralded by anything but the call of birds as they swooped around the millpond, scouting for insects and even fish. Normally Gavin loved that. Liked to think of it as just another way the gristmill served as a hub for the community and helped provide a steady food source. This morning, the bird cries sounded shrill to his ears, as though determined to prey upon the unsuspecting.
