Just like that, my new neighbor was gone. The cabin deserted. From across the field, it looked like a living, breathing, monster. The windows were two black holes for eyes, the door a gaping slash for a mouth.
They didn’t find her body, or any other clues outside the cabin, as far as I knew. The last of the crew finished up at ten o’clock. I expected them to offer me some sort of protection, maybe a guard to watch over the place…but they didn’t. They’d left me here alone, with my thoughts and my ghosts, and for some reason, that felt comforting. All the chaos and noise and company had made me a nervous wreck today.
Sam warned me not to disturb the scene, but I had to see it again. I just had to. It was my cabin, after all.
I let myself in the back door with my master key. I’d never felt like a criminal entering my own property before, but I did now. Could they arrest someone for disturbing a crime scene? Probably, I decided.
The kitchen was pitch black and dank. I stumbled over something in the middle of the floor, letting out a panicked cry. Even though I’d been determined not to turn on any lights, in case someone came back and saw me in here, I ran for the closest light switch. My fingers found the switch with practiced ease, and I let out a sigh of relief as the lights clicked on. There was a duffel bag in the middle of the kitchen floor. I stared at it, wondering what in the hell it was doing there.
I crept forward, confused by what my eyes were seeing. The bag was full of gray colored stones, like huge chunky bits of gravel but smooth in texture.
And the cannisters … Why would Nova put these here?
I didn’t dare touch the bag, or anything else, for fear of leaving fingerprints. Of course, my own prints would be all over this place. I’d wiped it down and checked things thoroughly before I let my tenant move in. But still. I didn’t want to disturb anything else.
Turning the kitchen light back off, I tiptoed into the living room. A dark brown stain covered the center of the floor. It looked dark, almost black.
I didn’t dare move any closer to the blood stain. Instead I walked down the long dark hallway, holding my breath as I approached the two bedrooms at the end of the hall. My mind played tricks on me as I entered the master bedroom. Shadows swirled, and I fought the urge to turn on the lights again. Taking out my cell phone, I used the flashlight to look around Nova’s room. The bed was unmade. A silky pink robe and panties lay crumpled up on the floor.
There was a strange smell in the air. Not blood or death, some sort of fruity perfume. Like coconut and cinnamon. Like Nova had been here only moments earlier…
Lily’s room was empty and dark, the bed neatly made. It didn’t even look like a child had slept here. My throat constricted as I rushed to get back outside. I burst through the back door, sucking in deep, wet breaths of cool night air.
The rain had started up again. It hadn’t reached me yet, but I could hear it pinging on the leaves in the forest, moving closer and closer…I crossed the field, but instead of heading back into my house, I went to the barn.
It’d been empty for years, but still, I could smell horses and hay. Could see myself feeding the animals. Could see the way Andy used to dote on them. He’d rub the horses bare-handed till his hands went raw, cooing to them like tiny children. Sometimes I thought that man treated his animals better than his own family.
On the second tier was a hayloft. Blinking back tears, I tried not to think about all the days I hid up there as a child, drawing and writing while my grandpa performed his daily duties. He would pretend not to see me, although I’m certain he always knew…
The only thing left behind as a memory of my family’s farm—the family before I had my own—was an ancient tractor that had belonged to my great-grandfather, Jack. Police looked in the barn today, but they didn’t move the tractor. It was at least 150 years old, ancient and peeling, and obviously, hadn’t been moved in years.
I laid down on my stomach, ignoring the dust and debris that coated my sweatshirt and jeans as I shimmied beneath the tractor. Luckily, I was still thin enough to slide underneath.
The false door wasn’t visible to the naked eye—it just looked like part of the floor. But I knew which tiny crack I had to pry in order to get it open. I pulled it up just far enough to squirm inside.
Rung by rung, I descended a rickety, wooden ladder, praying I wouldn’t catch any splinters along the way.
At the bottom was a small eight by eight room, previously used to store canned goods and supplies for the winter. Rows of metal shelving lined each side of the dank, dusty room. There was nothing down here anymore.
Nothing except for Andy.
He lay on his back, sleeping peacefully. Only he wasn’t sleeping. And his face didn’t look peaceful at all.
“Bastard,” I huffed, staring at the man I used to love. His flesh was already rotting, falling away from the bones, and he smelled worse than a broken sewer line.
“Why did you have to come here? You screwed everything up!” My heart slammed in my chest as I hurried back up the ladder.