Episode 6
1536 Words
GHOSTS DON'T KNOCK
For a full minute after the call ended, Eloise stood frozen in her living room, the silence roaring in her ears.
Rowan’s expression shifted instantly from curious to alarmed. “What is it? Who was that?”
She looked up slowly, fingers still clenched around her phone. “Someone who knows I found the letter. They said I should’ve left it alone.”
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
Rowan stepped closer. “Was it a man’s voice?”
She shook her head. “Couldn’t tell. It was distorted. Like one of those filtered voices you hear in thriller movies. But it was threatening. Cold.”
Rowan took the phone from her gently. “Did they say anything else?”
“No. Just that. Then they hung up.”
He pulled out his own phone. “We need to report this.”
Eloise grabbed his wrist. “To who? The town’s only officer who spends more time chasing raccoons than real crime?”
Rowan gave a tight smile. “Fair. But this isn’t small anymore, Eloise. Someone’s messing with you. And now they’re escalating.”
Eloise sank onto the couch. Her head throbbed.
“I thought the worst thing about coming back to Ashmoor would be seeing you again,” she murmured. “Now I’ve got anonymous threats, cryptic letters, and a bookstore romance workshop where one of the participants wants to reenact Fifty Shades during every writing prompt.”
Rowan sat beside her, brushing her hand with his. “And yet, you’re still here.”
“Maybe I’m stubborn.”
“Or brave.”
She glanced at him. “Don’t get poetic on me, Hale.”
“No promises.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
Then Rowan’s eyes lit with a sudden idea. “Let’s go for a drive.”
She blinked. “Now?”
“Yes. Fresh air, distance, perspective. We’ve been in our heads too long. Come on, trust me.”
“Why do I feel like this is how women in horror films end up wandering into the woods and getting murdered?”
“Because you watch too many horror films and not enough Hallmark movies. Come on.” He stood and offered her his hand.
She hesitated.
Then took it.
Ten minutes later, they were coasting down an old country road, the car windows open, the late afternoon sun casting golden shadows through the trees. The fresh scent of pine mixed with the distant sweetness of wildflowers. Eloise felt her muscles slowly unclench.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
Rowan smirked. “You’ll see.”
“Is it a secret romantic hideaway?”
“Not unless your idea of romance includes farm equipment and a grumpy old goat named Philip.”
“Color me intrigued.”
They pulled into a gravel driveway just off the road. Ahead sat a sprawling old barn, weathered red paint peeling at the corners. A single white farmhouse stood nearby, its porch wrapped in ivy and old rocking chairs.
“You brought me to a barn,” Eloise said flatly.
“I brought you to my barn,” Rowan corrected. “Well, it’s part of the property I inherited from my grandfather. No one lives here now. I come out here sometimes to think.”
She stepped out of the car and breathed in the warm, earthy air. “You could’ve just taken me to the lake.”
“The lake doesn’t have Philip.”
As if on cue, a large, disgruntled goat trotted around the side of the barn and bleated.
Eloise burst out laughing.
“Okay. I’m impressed.”
Rowan leaned against the car. “This place used to be my sanctuary. When everything was falling apart—family stuff, school, us—I’d come out here and just… breathe. It helped.”
Eloise’s laughter faded as she looked at him. “Why are you really showing me this?”
He hesitated.
“Because I want you to understand me. The real me. Not just the guy who walked away. Not the version you imagined for ten years. This is where I came when I needed truth.”
She folded her arms, watching him. “So what truth are you hiding now?”
He kicked a pebble with his boot. “That I never stopped loving you. Even when I thought you hated me. Even when I tried to move on.”
Eloise looked away, blinking fast.
“I can’t go back, Rowan.”
“I’m not asking you to. I just want us to face forward. Together.”
They stood in silence for a moment, the wind whispering through the trees.
Then Eloise whispered, “What if I still love you, too… but I’m afraid it’ll break me again?”
Rowan stepped forward, gently brushing her cheek with his thumb.
“Then let me be the one who proves it won’t.”
Later that night, after she returned home, Eloise curled up on her porch with a glass of wine, her laptop, and a fresh document blinking open.
Chapter One.
It wasn’t part of her planned book.
It was something new.
Inspired.
Scary.
Honest.
She typed: Once upon a time, she thought she knew everything about heartbreak. And then he walked back into her life with eyes that still saw her better than she saw herself…
She paused. Smiled.
Then kept writing.
Half an hour in, her phone pinged with a message.
Unknown Number: Did you think this story had a happy ending?
Her breath caught.
The wineglass slipped from her hand and shattered against the wood.
The next morning, she went straight to the bookstore.
Rowan was already there, stacking new arrivals. He looked up and instantly knew something was wrong.
“Another message?” he asked, rushing over.
She handed him her phone.
His jaw tightened. “This person is seriously escalating.”
Eloise nodded. “We need to talk to Mel.”
Rowan grabbed his keys. “Let’s go.”
Melanie Carter lived in a sleek condo just outside Portland, where the skyline kissed the horizon and everything smelled like expensive coffee.
She answered the door in yoga pants and a silk kimono, her blonde hair swept into a casual bun that screamed I wake up looking like this.
“Eloise?” she blinked, eyes narrowing.
“Hi, Mel,” Eloise said stiffly. “This is Rowan.”
Mel looked like she’d seen a ghost.
“Oh. Wow. This is unexpected.”
“We need to talk,” Eloise said. “About the letter. And about the bookstore job you had in college.”
Mel paled.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Rowan stepped forward. “You worked at the store. You had access. We found the letter in a book you had reason to handle. That’s not coincidence.”
Mel sighed, stepping back. “Fine. Come in. But you’re not going to like the truth.”
The truth was simple.
Mel had read the letter.
She hadn’t meant to—at first.
But curiosity got the better of her. When she saw Eloise heartbroken and raw, about to leave town, and when she discovered Rowan’s name attached to a family scandal that was about to go public, she panicked.
“I thought I was protecting you,” Mel said. “Rowan’s family was a mess. I thought he’d drag you down. And you were already broken after your dad…”
Eloise stared at her. “So you never delivered it?”
“I hid it in the back room. In a stack of books set for archiving. It must’ve ended up on a shelf somehow later. I didn’t think it mattered anymore.”
“It mattered.” Eloise’s voice cracked. “It changed everything.”
Mel’s guilt was written in every line of her face. “I’m sorry, Lo. I really am.”
Rowan’s voice was quiet. “Did you send the threats?”
“What? No!” Mel looked genuinely horrified. “I didn’t even know about the letter being found until now. I swear.”
Eloise believed her.
But that only made things worse.
Because if Mel wasn’t the one threatening her…
Then who the hell was?
Back in Ashmoor, Eloise paced her cottage.
Someone else knew.
Someone who didn’t want the past coming back.
She went to her laptop. Pulled up the scanned copy of the letter again. Her eyes scanned the lines Rowan had written all those years ago.
I’m being blackmailed.
Her pulse quickened.
She focused on the wording. Details she’d missed in her first emotional read.
There was a name mentioned—just once.
A man named Derrick Vance.
Someone Rowan had briefly worked with. A name that meant nothing to her then.
But now…
She Googled it.
And gasped.
Derrick Vance was currently running for a state office.
And he had ties to Ashmoor.
Eloise called Rowan.
“We have a name,” she said.
He was silent for a beat. “Tell me everything.”
She did.
By the time she finished, his voice was grim.
“This isn’t just about us anymore. It never was.”
- Writer
