CHAPTER EIGHTY THREE – SUSPICIOUS TOWNFOLK

The first door Scarlett rapped upon, however, was promptly closed in her face after a curt exchange of incomprehensible Olde English. A wrinkled woman standing in the dirt yard next door likewise shooed them off with vigorous shakes of her cane and a torrent of gravelly curses. As they wound deeper into the heart of the sleepy village, Scarlett felt her determination waning with each hostile rebuff. The insular residents seemed pathologically suspicious of any outsiders, regarding the two women with outright disdain bordering on xenophobia. "This is getting us nowhere fast," Clara muttered after yet another door was firmly slammed in their faces. She blew out a frustrated breath, pushing back her disheveled hair. "At this rate, we'll have alienated the entire population before we find a single lead." Scarlett's jaw tightened, hating to admit her friend was right but unable to deny the growing sense of futility oppressing her. For all their meticulous planning and back-alley dealings