Chapter One #2
Charly stalled and surveyed the space. The living and dining areas, including the compact kitchen, made up the front room.
The smaller back room was an L shape and was comprised of a short, narrow hall that led past the bathroom and then to the bedroom.
Shoehorned between the bedroom and living room was a small screened-in deck that connected the L shape to the longer front room.
Not cluttered, she realized after another slow survey of the room. Untidy was the better description. Clothes were on the floor. Not street clothes but sleepwear. Pajama bottoms—the new husband’s, judging by the size—and a slinky nightgown.
Why on earth would they leave part of their clothes if they had left?
Had one of them gotten sick or injured and been rushed to the ER in Guntersville?
Dirty dishes sat in the sink. Not unusual. She wandered into the short hall and checked the bathroom. Toiletries were scattered about the small vanity counter. A hairbrush. Toothbrushes.
Okay. Charly stilled. This was looking more and more like the couple hadn’t left yet and here she was smack in the middle of their space. Should she leave?
Well, she’d come this far. She might as well check the bedroom.
The bed was unmade. When her eyes landed on the two suitcases ensconced on the luggage rack, there was no question that the couple was still here.
Maybe there had been some miscommunication about the dates.
The open closet door showed two summery dresses and two shirts hanging side by side.
Two pairs of hiking boots sat on the floor, his and hers.
Oh yeah. All their stuff appeared to still be here.
As she turned to go, something else caught her eye—cell phones.
She moved closer to the king-size bed. This was the only cabin with a king-size bed.
All the others had either one or two queen-size beds.
On the small willow tables positioned on either side of the bed were the cell phones, each plugged in for charging.
Why would the two go anywhere without taking their phones? Even a sudden need to go to the ER was generally accompanied by the urge to grab a phone along with the key fob. People who carried cell phones didn’t generally like to be without them. It was a need—a comfort—to have the device handy.
Unease slid through her. Charly scanned the room more carefully now.
No sign of blood or indication there had been a struggle.
She checked the bathroom again, then did a slow, thorough walk-through of the front room.
Nothing. No note. No blood. No indication of trouble.
The nightclothes on the floor could be just a frantic urge to get naked and make love.
She decided to go back to her cabin for lunch and then check the place again. Maybe the couple would return and explain how the whole thing had been a misunderstanding. Maybe they weren’t planning to leave until tomorrow.
Charly drove back to her cabin and prepared her usual lunch—a sandwich and salad.
Today’s sandwich was deli-sliced turkey and mayo.
The salad was a mix of greens, cherry tomatoes and cucumbers with her favorite dressing.
Alex had been the cook in their relationship.
He would scold her for eating basically the same thing every day.
She smiled before tearing off a bite of the boring sandwich.
He would also fuss about the fact that she never bothered flavoring her water.
You need variety, Charly. Life is full of wonderful choices. Make a practice of selecting new ones every day.
Her smile faded when she thought of the days after that last chemo treatment when he had urged her to move on quickly. As weak as he was in his final days, he forced her to promise she wouldn’t spend the rest of her life grieving and alone. She had promised she would not.
She rolled her eyes. How pathetic was it that she hadn’t been able to keep her last promise to her dying husband?
Shaking off the memory, she ate her sandwich and then dove into her salad. It actually was boring. She even used the same dressing every single day. She really, really needed to start making different decisions.
“Maybe tomorrow,” she muttered.
When lunch was behind her, she loaded up in Lola and headed back to the Willow. She hadn’t seen the couple’s vehicle return but may have missed it when she was in the bathroom.
As she arrived at her destination, her hopes fell. Still no vehicle at the parking spot. She drove to the cabin. Again, she knocked on the door. Waited. Knocked again. Waited. No response. Once more, she went inside. Everything was exactly the same.
No one had been here since she’d left an hour ago.
Charly drew in a deep breath and headed to the bedroom.
She walked first to the left side of the bed and checked the phone.
No notifications. She placed it back on the side table and headed around to the other side.
The wife’s phone, she assumed since it had a case covered with flowers, had several notifications.
The final text message she had received was from a friend or coworker named Riley, who wanted to know why she wasn’t answering her phone.
Another was from someone named Billie, who wanted to know if she’d made it home yet.
Since there was no passcode required on the flowery-cased phone, Charly opened the calendar app and checked the dates for July.
The rental dates for the cabin were indeed July third to July sixth.
Lunch with Riley was on the calendar for today.
Then she checked the call log. Several incoming calls last evening and today hadn’t been answered, and there were no outgoing calls.
Charly placed the phone back on the table. She walked around to the husband’s phone again. She touched the screen, but a passcode was required so she couldn’t check his call log.
She put the phone back on the table and walked outside.
She stood on the porch for a little bit and considered her next step.
The dread and worry welling inside her had the urge to call the police tugging at her.
Then again, she didn’t want to act prematurely.
Calling someone on the wife’s contact list would likely upset whoever she called. But she couldn’t just do nothing.
Going back into the cabin, she walked straight to the wife’s side of the bed and picked up her phone.
This time she disconnected it from the charger.
She scrolled the contact list until she found someone listed as an emergency contact.
Billie Jagger. Same person who sent the text message asking if she was home yet.
Charly took a deep breath and tapped the screen to make the call.
The phone rang twice and then a breathless, “Hey.”
Male.
Another deep breath. “This is Charlotte Nix from the Bradly Retreat.”
Silence.
“In Guntersville, Alabama,” Charly added.
“Why are you using this phone?” the man asked, suspicion heavy in his tone.
She moistened her lips. “The couple who rented the Willow cabin was supposed to check out yesterday, but they didn’t. I stopped by to check on them and there’s no one here. All their things, including cell phones, are here, but they’re gone. Their SUV is gone.”
More of that silence.
Charly made a face. God, she hated to do this and be totally off base. “I’m concerned that something has happened and—”
“Why?” he cut her off. “Do you see something that makes you concerned? Signs of a struggle? Blood? Has the place been ransacked?”
She blinked, made a face. “Well…no,” she admitted.
“Everything looks fine. I mean, their nightclothes are on the floor, but all else appears…normal. Their phones were on the bedside tables, plugged in for charging. There toothbrushes are in the bathroom. I guess the part that bothers me is that none of the calls or messages they’ve received have been answered. ”
“I’m on my way.”
“Hey—” The call ended before she could say more.
She stared at the screen. What the heck? She had no idea who she had just spoken to other than the man was one of the emergency contacts in the phone.
Obviously, the man—the emergency contact—felt something was wrong. Charly blew out an exasperated breath and did the only thing she could. She pulled out her own cell phone and called the sheriff’s department.
If the man she’d spoken to was concerned, then she should be as well. She had been from the moment she woke up that morning…but his reaction had confirmed she was right to be.
The problem was obvious.
The couple who had rented this cabin was missing.