Chapter 21
Twenty-One
Patrick
The truck slipped on the ice-covered road back to the cabin as I pushed through the snow that was falling around us, going faster than I should.
Knowing that someone had been there and left a creepy note for Poppy at the steakhouse had left me desperate to get her back to the cabin, where I knew she would be safe.
My hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as I tried to focus on the road and not the racing thoughts flooding my brain about what had happened.
I had rushed out of the restaurant as quickly as possible, hopeful I would catch the asshole.
By the time I got outside, the parking lot was eerily silent with no one coming or going.
I let out a heavy breath as the cabin came into view and paused for a second while I considered whether we should stop by the inn to fill Gage and Julie in.
While it would be great to have safety in numbers, I couldn’t willingly take Poppy there and risk something happening that would put Daisy in danger.
By the time I parked in front of the cabin, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. I parked and got out to help Poppy, but the hairs standing up on my arms made me stop.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, pulling her coat tighter around her body as she scanned my face while I searched the woods around us. It was dark out, and aside from the lights we left on in the cabin, I couldn’t see anything.
Then it hit me.
The lights we had left on.
“Get back in the truck,” I said urgently, pushing her back toward it as I listened for any signs of danger.
“Pat—”
“Now,” I warned, pinning her with a look that made her nod and climb back inside.
I hated that I didn’t have a weapon on me and that we were alone in the middle of the woods. Either the storm had knocked the power out, or someone had been in my cabin.
I grabbed my phone and pulled it out, taking soft steps as I looked around. Thankfully, my eyes had already adjusted to the darkness, so I could see if there was any movement in the trees. I glanced at Poppy, making sure she was safe in the truck as it rang against my ear.
“What’s up?” Gage answered.
“Did the power go out?”
“No, not here anyway. Why? Is it out at your place?”
“Yeah.”
“How long has it been out?”
“I don’t know. We just got back from dinner. Someone was at the restaurant watching Poppy and left a creepy note for her after they left. Now we’re home, and I know I left the lights on before we left, but now—”
“I’m on my way.”
The line went dead as he hung up, so I put the phone back in my pocket and walked around to the side of the cabin. It was a quiet night as the snow fell around me, making it impossible to see if there were any footprints.
The sound of Gage’s truck caught my attention, but I didn’t pull my focus away from the cabin as I heard him get out and walk over.
“Where’s Poppy?” he asked, standing beside me as we stared at the front door.
“In the truck.”
“Have you been inside yet?”
“Nope.”
“Go ahead. I’ve got you covered out here,” he said.
He didn’t have to say any more for me to read between the lines and know what he meant.
I walked to the front door and examined the door handle, noticing some of the wood was splintered.
“Someone’s been inside,” I said over my shoulder.
While I knew that whoever had broken in might still be there and hear me talking, I would rather that he be aware of the threat so he could take action if needed.
I pushed the door open, listening for the distinct sound of pitter-patter from Travis, and frowned when I didn’t hear it. He didn’t so much as even whine, which was unusual. I reached my hand along the wall and found the light switch, flipping it up as the lights turned on.
I walked slowly, looking into the kitchen before finding Travis lying on the floor.
I knelt down, immediately looking for a sign that he was still alive when he whimpered.
They’d done something to him, but I didn’t know what.
I didn’t have time to check on him because I didn't know if they were still in the house.
Quietly, I stepped over him and grabbed a knife from the block on the counter, and held it at my side as I worked quickly to clear the kitchen and living room. I checked every nook and cranny to make sure no one was hiding before I went upstairs.
The guest room was still as I had left it, and nothing had been tampered with in the bathrooms as far as I could tell.
But I stopped in my tracks as I stood in front of the bed and stared at the photos scattered across it. In the middle was a piece of paper with the word "murderer" written in black marker.