The Calhoun place loomed dark and empty, making her wonder about whether the old ranch house was occupied, like she’d heard. The Mouton’s ranch had been empty for years, and then it had finally been sold four months ago. The town folks had been eager to know who had bought the place, and who had hired local talent to breathe new life into the ranch. The owner had remained anonymous until a few weeks ago, when word had filtered through the tiny town that a Calhoun now owned the ranch and its surrounding land. Then the name had not jarred anything inside of Ava. She had vaguely recalled Devlin had sit behind her in Biology and third period English in high school, the oldest Calhoun was in prison, and the youngest had joined the marines. She had been thoroughly fascinated by the townsfolks’ rabid curiosity and whisperings about the Calhouns. Her neighbours’ behaviour had intrigued her, but when she had asked her mom, Ava had only gotten a thin lipped reply that it was of no consequence.
