Forest of Shadows by Hunter Shea

down, his escort extended his hand. “If you’re not John Backman, at least you’ll have company for dinner.”
    They shook hands. 
    “Judas I presume.”
    “Yeah, thanks for coming, man.”
    The normal clatter of dinnertime at Cheryl’s slowly resumed its cadence. The redheaded waitress walked by and plopped a pair of menus on the table in passing. 
    “Don’t worry, it’s not you. This is the level of service I always get,” Judas said with a pained expression. “So, I see you made it here okay. A lot of people get kind of freaked out when they take those little planes.”
    “You should have seen me earlier. I think I’ll drive up here next time.”
    Judas dropped his menu and leaned forward. “Does that mean you’re moving into the house?”
    “If everything works out, I’ll be back in a few weeks.”
    “What did you think when you were there?”
    The waitress came by and took their orders. John opted for a BLT and fries and Judas ordered pancakes with a side of sausage. She gave John a lingering look and went back to the kitchen. 
    “I think she likes you,” Judas said. 
    “She looked at me like I was some sort of lab specimen. In fact, everyone has looked at me pretty much the same way since I landed.”
    “Shida’s a small town with a pretty un- diverse population. In other towns, this time of year, they get all kinds of people who come up for the outdoor adventures like camping, hiking, kayaking, that sort of back to nature crap. Here, hardly anyone comes around, especially big white guys that look like a young Hemingway. So, tell me what you think about the house. Get any weird vibrations? Did you bring any of your, like, ghost busting equipment and take some readings?”
    John was going to correct him on the whole ghost busting thing but let it slide. He told him about his cover and how it wouldn’t allow for him to whip out any of his meters or cameras.
    “All in all, it seemed like a big, beautiful house. The only thing odd about it was how different it is than any other house I’ve seen so far. Are there others in the area similar to it?”
    Judas shook his head. “No way, dude. That sucker is worth more than half the houses in town combined. There are some nice places, but nothing like that one. You’ll pretty much find that Shida is a shithole in the ass end of nowhere.”
    John couldn’t shake the feeling that they were the center of attention and being intently listened to. The fact that they physically stood out like a pair of sore thumbs only exacerbated his apprehension. 
    The waitress brought their food and leaned over the table to bring the ketchup bottle closer to their plates. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can get you,” she said and left. 
    The bacon in John’s BLT tasted nothing like the bacon he was used to. It was a cross between a thick slab of Canadian bacon and a sneaker. He picked it off and ate a lettuce and tomato sandwich instead. Judas dumped close to an entire bottle of syrup on his pancakes and dug into them like a prison inmate. 
    “Have you been able to find out anything more about the house since our last email?” John asked. 
    Judas waved his fork. “Nope. This is a pretty tight-lipped town and I try to ignore most of what goes on around here. I did talk to someone who might be able to clue us in a little more, though.”
    “Who would that be?”
    “My friend Teddy’s grandmother. She’s like the oldest living resident here, or pretty damn close to it, at least. Teddy’s family was one of the first to settle in Shida. If she doesn’t know everything about everyone, no one does. If you want, I could try to set it up so you could meet her tomorrow. It’s after six now, she’s probably asleep.”
    “I’m actually leaving in the morning. When I come back, I’d definitely like to see her and ask some questions.”
    John was just about finished with his meal when the sheriff shuffled by their table and paused for a moment. His