Chapter 2: The Million-Dollar Stranger

But not long after, while I was playing with rocks out front, a man in a sharp suit pulled up. He was driving a shiny black sedan and looking to lease the fishing pond.

The car looked like it belonged in the city, not on our dusty country road. The man stepped out, shoes too clean for this town, sunglasses perched on his head even though the sky was overcast. He had that air of someone who’d never gotten mud on his cuffs a day in his life.

The pond owner wasn’t around, so the man looked at me. For a second, my stomach tightened. “Hey, kid, can you show me to the pond?”

His voice was smooth, practiced—like he’d spent years talking people into things. I shrank back, clutching my rock, trying to remember what Grandpa had said. I could smell his cologne from ten feet away, sharp and citrusy, totally out of place here. My skin prickled with nerves.

I was shaking so hard I couldn’t move. He probably didn’t see the several pairs of bright green eyes staring at him from the water’s edge.

I blinked, and a couple of fish leapt, splashing water and weeds up from the pond. I let out a breath—maybe I’d just imagined it.

My hands were clammy, and for a second, I wondered if I was just spooking myself. I thought I heard whispering, but it was just the water lapping at the shore.

Seeing nobody else around, I whispered, “Mister, you should leave. There’s nothing here worth your time.” I hesitated, swallowing hard. “There’s something in that pond that eats people.”

I tried to sound braver than I felt, but my voice came out thin. The surface was still.

The man stared at me for a long second, then gave a strange little smile.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. It was the kind of look grown-ups give when they think you’re making up stories. He crouched down, his expensive suit creasing, and waited for my answer like he was about to hear a joke.

I shook my head. “My grandpa. We saw it a few days ago.” My palms were sweaty. Was he going to believe me?

My voice wobbled, but I kept my chin up. Grandpa always said you had to look people in the eye, even if you were scared.

And the pond keeps caving in…

I started to say more, but my words tangled up.

But before I could finish, Grandpa came out and called me in for dinner.

His voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a warning bell.

I didn’t need telling twice—I bolted for the porch, not daring to look back at the pond.

When the man saw Grandpa, he grinned. “Sir, I hear there’s a monster in your town’s fishing pond?”

He tried to sound casual, but there was a glint in his eye. I felt my stomach twist. He leaned against the hood of his car, hands in his pockets, like he owned the place already.

Grandpa sized him up, eyes turning cold, and started pulling me inside. “Just stories to keep kids out of trouble.”

His grip on my shoulder was firm.

I could tell Grandpa didn’t trust him one bit.

I rolled my eyes, thinking it was just to scare me. But what if it wasn’t?

I felt a little betrayed, like the world was a puzzle with missing pieces. Maybe grown-ups lied more than I thought. What else didn’t I know?

I lost interest and ran inside for dinner, still thinking about the stranger and the pond.

The smell of fried chicken drifted from the kitchen, and my stomach growled louder than my curiosity.

For a moment, the pond and its secrets faded into the background.

Out of nowhere, the man followed us to the door. “Sir, how’d that story get started? Mind telling me?”

He hovered in the doorway, not quite inside, not quite out. His shoes left neat prints on the worn rug, and he looked around like he was casing the place.

Grandpa’s face was stone cold; he wasn’t one for chit-chat. “Why else? I just didn’t want little Mason running off and drowning in the pond.”

He spoke slow.

Each word heavy. It was clear he didn’t want to say more, but the man didn’t take the hint.

The man went back to his car and brought over a six-pack and a carton of cigarettes, offering them to Grandpa. “Sir, come on, level with me. There’s something in it for you. See that brand-new car outside? That’s mine.”

He set the beer and smokes on the table, trying to sweeten the deal. The labels were fancy, nothing you’d find at the corner store. He flashed his keys like they meant something.

Grandpa sighed but didn’t take the gifts. For a second, I wondered if he’d ever say yes to anything. “Young man, if you want my advice, just leave.”

He pushed the six-pack back across the table, shaking his head. There was a finality in his voice, like he’d made up his mind years ago. I could feel how much he meant it.

After that, he just puffed on his old pipe and ignored everything the man said.

The smoke curled around him, a silent wall.

He stared out the window, eyes fixed on something far away. The man kept talking, but Grandpa didn’t even blink.

The man seemed to think Grandpa was hiding something. He went back to his car, grabbed two thick stacks of cash, and came back with a big grin. “Sir, you look like an honest man. I think we’re meant to cross paths. Go ahead, take the money.”

He fanned out the bills like a magician, the paper crisp and new. It was more money than I’d ever seen in one place. The man’s smile was all teeth, but there was something hungry behind it.

Before Grandpa could reply, Grandma put down her fork, looking troubled. “Son, my husband’s a good man. If you want to stay safe, just leave town and forget about that pond.”

Her voice was gentle, but there was steel underneath. She didn’t look at the money, just at the man, like she was seeing straight through him.

The man handed the cash to Grandma instead. “Ma’am, my name’s Carter Dean. Just call me Carter.”

He tried to soften his approach, giving her a practiced smile. He held out the bills like an olive branch, but Grandma didn’t budge.

Grandma glanced at Grandpa but didn’t take the money. Instead, she asked, “You look like a big shot. What’s a city guy want with our pond, anyway?”

She raised an eyebrow, her voice just a touch sharper. Around here, nobody did anything without a reason. She wanted to hear his story, or maybe catch him in a lie.

Carter slapped his thigh and laughed. “Ma’am, who ever thinks they have too much money? I specialize in leasing land and ponds. If I find something valuable, good for me. If not, it’s just bad luck.”

His laugh echoed in the small room, but it didn’t make anybody else smile. He sounded like he was telling a joke he’d used a hundred times before.

Seeing Grandpa stay quiet, Carter pressed on. “I paid a million dollars to lease this pond. The money’s already paid, and I signed the contract with the pond owner. No backing out. Sir, Ma’am, you’ve lived here forever. Help me avoid any trouble, will you?”

He leaned in, voice dropping low like he was sharing a secret. I didn’t really understand what a million dollars meant, but it sounded like more than our whole town had ever seen. My head spun just thinking about it.

I looked at Grandpa, hoping he’d explain, but he just stared at Carter, eyes like river rocks.

Grandpa narrowed his eyes. I wondered what he was thinking. Was he scared, or just mad?

He tapped his pipe against the table, thinking. The air felt heavy, like a storm was rolling in.

He was about to say something when a knock sounded at the door.

We all jumped. The knock was sharp, impatient. My stomach dropped. For a second, nobody moved.

It was the pond owner, smelling as always of fish. He gave Grandpa a look that could curdle milk. His bandages were fresh, like he’d just gotten into a fight.

He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. The scent of river mud and old fish filled the room, and his gaze made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Fresh bandages peeked from under his sleeves.

Grandpa didn’t say a word.

The tension in the room ratcheted up a notch.

The air felt weirdly still.

It was so quiet, I swear even the clock was holding its breath.

Carter laughed awkwardly and said goodbye to my grandparents, handing me two pieces of candy before he left.

He ruffled my hair, trying to act friendly, but his hands were cold and clammy. The candy was wrapped in shiny foil—city stuff, not the kind we got at the corner store.

The pond owner stood outside, his grin stretched ear to ear, giving us a mocking look and a derisive snort.

He lingered on the porch, eyes glinting with something I didn’t like. His laugh sounded like gravel, and he turned on his heel, boots crunching on the gravel drive.

Grandpa’s face was dark, his hand gripping the pipe trembling with fear and anger.

He stared at the door long after they’d gone, jaw clenched so tight I could hear his teeth grind. The pipe smoke hung around him like a storm cloud.

We figured the pond was Carter’s problem now and had nothing to do with us anymore. I almost felt relieved, but not quite.

Grandpa tried to act like it was all behind us, but I caught him peeking out the window at night, just in case.

But Carter came by every day for a week, bringing food and drinks.

He showed up with bags of groceries and six-packs, always with that same salesman smile. He acted like we were old friends, but Grandpa never invited him to sit.