7. Hades
Hades
The lock comes off in my hand. I stare at it. “Good security.”
Wilder looks up from where he’s sprawled across the couch, eating chips. “You broke it.”
“It was already broken.”
“It was attached to the door before you touched it.”
“Barely.”
“Still counts.”
I toss the old lock onto the floor beside me.
One more thing to add to the list.
The cabin looked better in the pictures.
It’s shitty in person.
Yesterday, I discovered the water stain on the ceiling.
This morning, Wilder discovered that the toilet runs constantly.
Then I found a loose board on the porch when my foot almost went through it.
Now the lock on the back door is useless.
Move-in ready, my ass.
“You should go into town. Get some supplies,” Wilder says. “You know. Actually leave the cabin.”
“I left yesterday.”
“Walking around the woods like a serial killer doesn't count.”
I slowly look at him.
He stops chewing.
Then he grins. “Okay. Poor choice of words.”
“You think?”
“Technically, you’re not a serial killer.”
“Neither are you.”
“Exactly. We’re misunderstood.”
I shake my head and return my attention to the door. “You recently burned down a house.”
“A shitty house. With a body in the basement.”
“An important distinction.”
I tighten one of the screws holding the temporary latch in place.
The bastard deserved what happened to him.
I don't regret it.
I doubt Wilder does either.
What bothers me is everything that came before it.
Years of the same shit.
Never knowing when he’d walk through the door.
What mood he’d be in.
What would set him off.
Learning to recognize his footsteps.
The sound of his truck.
The smallest changes in his voice.
Knowing when to disappear.
Knowing when disappearing would only make things worse.
I stare at the broken lock in my hand.
No. We're not living like that anymore. We made sure of it.
“I'm replacing all of them.”
Wilder glances between the front and back doors. “All the locks?”
“Yeah.”
“The front works.”
“This one worked yesterday.”
“Fair point.”
I stand and grab my jacket.
Wilder crunches another chip. “You’re actually going into town?”
I glare at him. “Yes, asshole. To the hardware store.”
“You know where it is?”
“I saw it when I drove in.”
“Get a toilet thing.”
I stare at him.
“You know. The thing inside the tank.”
“Very specific.”
“You're the handyman.”
“Since when?”
“Since you bought us a condemned cabin.”
“It isn't condemned.”
“Yet.”
I flip him off.
“Grab food while you’re out.”
“You went to the grocery store yesterday.”
“I ate it.”
“All of it?”
“I was hungry.”
“You bought enough food for three days.”
He shrugs.
I grab my keys from the table. “Anything else, Your Highness?”
“Beer.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“You're not Dad.” The words leave his mouth casually. But the room goes silent.
Wilder’s smile disappears.
My jaw tightens.
He looks down at the bag of chips. “I didn't mean—”
“I know.”
A few seconds pass.
Then I open the door.
“Get the toilet thing,” he calls after me.
I glance back. His grin has returned.
“Fuck off.”
I close the door behind me.
Hollow Creek is busier than I expected.
People walk along sidewalks lined with orange and yellow leaves. Pumpkins sit outside storefronts. Black-and-orange banners hang from lampposts, and fake cobwebs stretch across windows.
Apparently this town takes Halloween seriously.
I move with the traffic around me.
Fine by me.
The fewer people who notice me, the better.
A coffee shop catches my attention. There’s a wooden sign above the door. Bramble & Bean.
People move in and out carrying cups.
What I wouldn’t give for a decent cup of coffee.
But not right now.
A few buildings farther down is a bookstore. The Crooked Spine.
I snort.
At least someone around here has a sense of humor.
I keep driving.
Eventually, I find the hardware store and spend more money than I want to on locks, screws, lumber, tools, and the toilet thing Wilder so helpfully described. The guy behind the counter calls it a fill valve.
Whatever.
If it stops the toilet from running, I don't give a shit what it's called.
I load everything into the truck.
I should head home.
Instead, I sit behind the wheel for a moment.
All day long, she’s been flashing through my mind.
Long brown hair that caught hints of red beneath the light.
The oversized sweater that swallowed her small frame.
The way she stood in front of the brightly lit window, staring into the darkness as if she somehow knew I was there.
Her fear was palpable. And fucking appealing as hell.
Her bedroom on the second floor.
Those silky-looking bare legs that led to that ass in those little cotton panties.
“Fuck.”
I start the truck.
I don't know her name. Or who she is. That bothers me more than it should.
I pull out of the parking lot and take the road leading away from town.
The GPS tells me to turn right.
I go straight.
I'm driving around, learning the town. That's all.
Wilder and I just moved here. I should know what's around us. Which roads connect and where they lead. What's nearby.
A perfectly reasonable explanation for what I’m doing.
A narrow road catches my attention.
I turn onto it.
Trees crowd both sides the farther I go.
Then, through an opening between them, I see the large Victorian.
My foot eases off the gas.
Interesting.
The house looks different in daylight.
Bigger.
Older.
Beautiful, I suppose, if you're into that kind of thing.
I’m more interested in who lives inside it.
I keep driving.
There's no reason to stop.
She's probably not even home.
And I have shit to do.
I glance in the rearview mirror.
The house disappears behind the trees.
My eyes move back to the windshield.
At least now I know another way to get there.
“You bought the wrong thing.” Wilder holds up the fill valve.
“The guy at the hardware store said it was universal.”
Wilder turns the box around. “Oh.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“You don't have to be a dick about it.”
“You told me it was wrong.”
“I thought it was.”
“Without looking at it.”
“Details.”
I take the box from him.
He watches me cross the room. “You were gone a while.”
“I had to find the store.”
“Uh-huh.” He shoves another chip in his mouth.
I raise an eyebrow. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Then stop looking at me.”
“Touchy.”
I don’t say anything.
Instead, I resume working.
By late afternoon, the back door has a new lock.
So does the front.
The toilet no longer keeps running.
I replaced the loose porch board.
Wilder managed to kill Frank. Apparently by stepping on him.
He claims it was an accident.
I don't believe him.
As daylight disappears, I stand in the kitchen drinking water and staring out the window.
There are trees as far as I can see.
Beyond them is her house.
I know that now.
I also know the trail that leads there.
I turn away.
Find something else to do.
I tighten a cabinet hinge that doesn't need tightening.
Check the new front lock. Then the back one.
Wilder is watching television.
He glances at me when I grab my jacket. “Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“That's descriptive.”
“I’m going for a walk.”
His eyebrows raise. “It’s almost dark.”
I shrug. “Yeah.”
He looks toward the window, then back at me. “Serial killer.”
“Fuck you.”
His laughter follows me outside.
Cold autumn air fills my lungs. I shove my hands into my pockets and head around the cabin.
I don't need to turn on the flashlight in my pocket. Not yet.
I find the trail easily.
Yesterday, I followed a barking dog.
Tonight, I know exactly where I'm going.
Leaves crunch beneath my boots as I move through the woods. The sky darkens above the trees.
By the time the Victorian appears through the branches, lights glow from several windows.
I stand in the woods, waiting.
When darkness covers the area, I head to the same place as last night.
She walks past the window.
Relief hits me. She’s home.
The reaction irritates me.
I lean against the tree.
She moves around the living room.
Something has changed.
I study the windows, then realize what it is. Halloween decorations.
Orange lights glow around the fireplace. Something that looks like a pumpkin sits on the mantel. Decorations fill the room.
None of that was there yesterday.
She did that today.
The little dog races across the room with something in its mouth.
The woman chases after it.
Even from here, I can tell she's laughing.
I find myself smiling.
She catches the dog near the couch and takes whatever it stole.
A few seconds later, the dog steals it again.
My smile grows.
I see her lips moving.
I wonder what she's saying.
The thought comes without warning.
Last night, seeing her was enough.
Tonight, it isn't.
I want to hear her.
To know why she's laughing.
What she calls the dog.
What she does when she doesn’t know I’m watching.
I watch her move around the room.
She picks up a mug and takes a drink.
She tucks her hair behind her ear after setting it down.
Small, meaningless things.
But I notice every one of them.
I don't know how long I stand there.
Long enough for the cold to work through my jacket. For the little dog to settle beside her. For her to curl onto the couch beneath a blanket.
Long enough that a normal man would've gotten bored and gone home.
But not me.
Eventually, she reaches for the remote. The television comes on.
I shift my weight against the tree.
I'm doing it again. Watching a woman I've never met through the windows of her house.
Except tonight is different.
Yesterday, I found her by accident.
Tonight, I came looking.
I stare through the window at the woman who has no idea I exist.
Tomorrow, I'll learn her name.