Texas Gothic Read Online Free PDF Page B

you think it’s an actual ghost,” I asked, “or just a legend?”
    “It could be either,” said Phin. “Or both—a minor paranormal event that gossip has blown up into a full-fledged haunting.” She shook the ice in her drink and went on conversationally, “There is a sad lack of firsthand accounts. Mostly hearsay and anecdotal evidence. Nothing even tosay what
kind
of apparition, if it’s a will-o’-the-wisp, or a woman in white, or what. Since it’s by the river, it could even be a variation of La Llorona.”
    The name yanked tight the coiled knot in my gut, making it suddenly hard to breathe. I tried to keep my reaction from showing, and the old emotions pushed into the corner where they belonged. “La Llorona is south of here, on a completely different river. On the San Antonio River, at Goliad.”
    Phin shook her head, mouth full of soda, and swallowed before she answered. “La Llorona—the weeping woman—is just a
type
of apparition. They fall into categories. Don’t you remember any of this stuff? You read every book on the subject when we were kids.”
    “I’ve had other things to think about lately.” Things like being devoted to reality. “Spectral taxonomy isn’t something they cover on college entrance exams.”
    Her snort said that she found this a serious lack on the part of admissions boards everywhere. I was contractually obligated to
love
Phin, but she was idiosyncratic, to say the least, and sometimes outright infuriating. Other times, in spite of everything, she made me laugh.
    Which I almost did—until she said, “In any case, I’m keeping an open mind that there’s an actual haunting of some sort. After all, it
could
have to do with the body by the river.”
    “The
what
?” This was not a rhetorical question. I mean, it wouldn’t be the strangest thing to come out of my sister’s mouth, but the ultracasual way she’d said it made me doubt my own ears. “As in
dead
body?”
    “Of course dead body.” She raised her brows. “If it were a live body, I would have said ‘man’ or ‘woman’ or ‘person.’ Semantics are important.”
    I ignored that. “By
our
river?”
    She nodded and sipped her soda. “A mile or two upstream, judging by where I saw the sheriff’s cruiser when I drove by.”
    “Sheriff’s cruiser?” I echoed. Again.
    Phin’s brows knit in concern. “Have you had some sort of sudden-onset hearing loss?” She bent to speak rather loudly a few inches from my face. “Are you having any dizziness? Ringing in your ears?”
    I brushed her off and pushed out of my chair. “Of course not. I mean,
why
the sheriff?”
    “To keep people away, of course. Until the forensic team gets in there and decides if it’s a crime scene or not.” She waved away such trivial concerns as homicide. “But that’s really not important.”
    My mouth worked up and down, a soundless guppy face of … There were no words for my emotion. Finally I managed, “Not
important
? You didn’t think you should
lead
with the fact that someone has been killed mere miles from where we’re staying?”
    “Well, not
recently
,” she said, as if I were the one incapable of conducting a linear conversation. “That’s why they had to wait on the physical anthropology team to come from the university.”
    I thought after “dead body” I could be excused for being a little slow to catch up. “Physical anthropology” meant that what they’d found were mostly bones. But it was summer inTexas. Hot, but dry. How long would it take for a body to become a skeleton?
    “When did this happen?” I asked, trailing her as she went to her laptop.
    “No one knows yet.” Phin ducked under the table to mess with some wires running down to the outlet in the floor. “They just started investigating today.”
    I addressed her rear end. “No, I mean, when was the body, skeleton, whatever, discovered?”
    “A few days ago.” She emerged, straightened, and pushed a few wisps of hair out of