Rain spat from the dark sky onto the saturated road and disappeared into the sword ferns lining the shoulders of Wa-Wilkin Road, as Warner drove past the towering hemlock. Running late on his Friday evening routine, he navigated the last few potholes and avoided jarring the cases of ceramic floor tile secured next to the wood-burning stove in the truck-bed. Within the cab, the hum of the truck’s heater competed with the crooning of Blake Shelton’s “Home Sweet Home” playing over the radio.
Warner slowed as he came to his driveway; the security gate—with its heavy chain and reflective red-on-white ‘PRIVATE PROPERTY’ sign that normally hung in the middle of the drive—lay in the mud. Stopping twenty feet from the gate, he felt his stomach knot as sweat dampened his brow.
He’s back.
Passing the workshop, Warner surveyed the exterior from his truck and relaxed after he saw that everything looked in order. Maybe it was a high school prank. He drove on to the side of the cabin and the headlights splashed across the patio. The muscles in his neck tightened as if gripped by a vise—the back door stood wide open.
Grabbing his flashlight and knife from the glove box, Warner slipped out of the cab into the wet darkness. As he drew up the hood of his coat, Bella dropped onto the muddy ground behind him and splashed into the shadows of the nearby brush to relieve herself. Edging toward the entrance, Warner listened for any indication that the trespassers were still present. At the door, he found the interior was quiet except for a familiar soft clank from the living room heater. Rainwater splashed across the threshold, wetting the bare concrete floor inside, while Warner cautiously shined his flashlight onto the unfinished walls within.
Sudden movement rushed from the left and Warner reeled back before recognizing the giant schnauzer. Padding through the puddling water, the dog entered the cabin and disappeared.
“Good girl,” he said in relief, despite the wet paw-prints now trailing across the floor. He stamped his feet and followed the dog inside. After scanning the two bedrooms on his left, he rounded the corner and entered the dim kitchen.
Cabinet doors stood open, their contents spilled onto the countertops and the concrete floor below. A few less-choice foods sat collected on the bar—like the checkout line at a grocery store, except here it’s free. The sense of violation felt crushing—this isn’t like the workshop break-in. Someone invaded our home!
Warner climbed cautiously to the upstairs, where he and Kendra had been sleeping since Sylvia’s summer visit. His flashlight reflected off the steep angle of the walls formed by the roof. The skylights appeared like dark rectangles hanging from the dim cedar ceiling. After peering into the shadowy doorway of the upper bathroom and finding the medicine cabinet pilfered, he crept to the rear of the loft where they normally slept. Despite the sparse furnishings, it was clear the area had been ransacked. His skin crawled as if a bucket of spiders had fallen down his shirt. The full sized sleeping bag from their bed and a spare pair of work boots were missing. What kind of thief takes a sleeping bag and old boots? He noticed the pillows lying on the floor. The creeps rifled through our bed!
A sudden vision flashed before Warner: Kendra and he peacefully sleeping in the cabin while a shadowy stranger loomed over them. He felt defenseless and near panic. They weren’t looking for stuff to fence, they were gathering things to hole up someplace—it’s like they went shopping. What’s to stop them from returning, when they know I’m still gone so much, and they’ll get away with it?
Warner took a deep breath. Why’d this have to happen right before the holidays? Good thing Kendra wasn’t here… he returned to the bathroom to see if the thieves had left the antacid.
-- : --
The next morning, sunlight lit the living room while Warner groped beneath a ceiling panel to find the end of a video surveillance cable. Balancing on a three-foot stepladder’s ‘do-not-stand-here’ step, he stretched his arm to the limit of his reach.
A loud buzz came from the kitchen and Bella began barking from where she had been napping in the smaller downstairs bedroom. The alarm squawked twice from a battery-powered black box the size of a twin card deck that sat on the countertop. That’s annoying, but at least I won’t be surprised by ‘visitors’ if they show up when I’m here.
Climbing off the ladder, Warner strolled into the kitchen to look out the window toward Wa-Wilkin Road where he had placed the remote sensor. With a returning sense of security, he glanced toward the gate, but saw no vehicle. Did the sensor pick up a coyote or something? Then he glimpsed a girl wearing a pink-and-white coat over a plain yellow dress with calf-high white stockings striding beyond the sensor. It works after all.
-- : --
“Got the note you left on my door,” Lina said, taking the offered seat in the living room. She fidgeted with a wad of tissue in her hands. “Mighty nice of you and Mrs. Renshaw to ask me to Thanksgiving dinner.”
“You made a big impression on Mom,” Warner said, trying to make her feel comfortable.
“I’ll be there.”
“Good. Mom will be happy to hear that.”
“Your wife gonna be there too?”
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
“Just… thinking she’s not takin’ a likin’ to me.”
“She’s just a little nervous since the break-ins last spring. Growing up on the east coast, she comes off a little brusque sometimes. Once you get to know each other, I’m sure you two will get along fine…,” maybe.
“I always been Mama’s only girl. Never really wanted a sister.”
Warner’s brow furrowed. We’re not adopting you. “You have girlfriends, don’t you?” he asked.
Lina puckered her cheeks and shook her head. “I always rathered boys.”
“Then Kendra can be your first girlfriend,” he said, forcing a smile.
She looked at him with a blank expression and the moment stretched to the point of discomfort before she broke the silence. “Place looks different.”
“How so? It’s brand new.”
“Way I remember, kitchen’s on the wrong side and the stove’s not s’posed to be in the corner. Least the bedrooms’ where they should be,” she said, sitting forward. “Luke’s gonna like how you done them river rock. Not long ‘fore New Year’s Eve comes and all.”
Warner sat still, awkward, and unable to think of an appropriate response. What’s she talking about? “Would you like something to drink?” he asked, standing.
“Can I take it with me, now you knows about Thanksgiving?”
“Definitely,” Warner replied.