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She rose onto her toes to meet me, and for a moment the crowd around us might as well have disappeared.

When I finally eased back, her cheeks were pink from more than the cold.

We wandered farther through the displays, stopping to watch a woodturning demonstration and admire the work of several local artisans. Peyton bought a small packet of spiced nuts from a vendor and insisted I share them with her while we walked.

I was enjoying the evening more than I’d expected. I came to Fall Fest every year, but I’d gotten used to seeing the same displays and talking to the same people. With Peyton beside me, everything seemed worth another look.

We reached the Factory of Screams shortly after nine.

The exhibition building had been transformed with painted panels, false windows, and an enormous sign that promised a terrifying experience. Mechanical rattling drifted from behind the entrance, and every so often a recorded scream carried above the conversations of the people waiting in line.

Peyton looked toward the dark doorway with interest.

“I haven’t been through a haunted house in years. I hope they’ve put as much effort into the interior as they have the entrance.”

“They usually do. Duncan’s been involved in a lot of the practical effects this year, and he’s good at building things that look convincing.”

“Duncan?”

“Rusk. I knew him when I was in the high-school shop program. He’s a few years older than me, but he was always the kind of guy who could turn a pile of scrap materials into something impressive.”

We joined the line, where the first groups of guests were already being admitted.

Near the public entrance, I spotted Duncan checking a decorative panel while keeping an eye on the flow of visitors. His dark beard and tattooed arms were easy enough to recognize even in the dim lighting.

He looked up as we approached and grinned.

“Hudson Hewitt. Haven’t seen you around here in a while. Come to inspect the workmanship?”

“Thought I’d see whether you’ve managed to frighten anybody this year.”

Duncan laughed and offered his fist. I bumped it, then introduced Peyton.

She shook his hand and told him she was visiting from Minneapolis for work.

“Well, I hope you enjoy the place,” he said. “We’ve put a lot into it. Just follow the marked route, and don’t let Hudson convince you he’s too tough to get scared.”

Peyton looked delighted.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of making that assumption.”

A woman with coppery curls appeared near the admission station, speaking into a radio. Duncan introduced us briefly when she had a moment.

Goldie Graham gave us a warm smile despite the steady stream of guests waiting for her attention.

“Welcome! I hope you have a great time. We’ve had some wonderful reactions already tonight.”

Peyton thanked her, and we left Goldie and Duncan to their work as the next group was called forward.

The attraction opened into a narrow corridor designed to resemble an abandoned factory. Rust-colored paint covered the walls, and artificial pipes ran overhead, disappearing into shadow. The floor was level and the guest route clearly marked, although the lighting and sound effects made the space feel considerably more dangerous than it was.

Peyton walked close beside me, looking around with the fascinated expression she’d worn when studying the audiobook’s more elaborate descriptions.

“This is remarkably well done,” she murmured. “The sound design alone must have taken ages.”

Before I could answer, a figure in stained work clothes stepped out from behind a false wall and let out an awful shriek.

Peyton squealed and caught my arm.