42. Aspen #2
It occurs to me that, if this man is dangerous, this is a stupid thing to do. He could do anything to me. But why would he? He’s had plenty of opportunities to harm me if he wanted. He could easily have smothered me in my sleep or attacked me when I’ve been out in the woods, alone.
I also figure he must have a good thing going, living on Blake’s land, with no one to bother him.
I don’t know what kind of financial agreement they have, but Blake said he helps out in the upkeep of the property and grounds, so that might be enough.
Either way, he’d be stupid to rape and murder me, because Blake would know right away who was responsible, and he’d end up locked behind bars or dead.
As I walk, I entertain a little fantasy about Blake discovering I’m dead and breaking his heart over me.
I picture him wishing things had been different between us, that he hadn’t wasted so much time.
He’d be heartbroken and overcome with rage-filled grief, and he’d tear the man who hurt me to shreds.
I’m testing the darkness inside me, seeing how far I can push it… or maybe it’s just that I want someone to care if I were gone.
Within half an hour or so, I manage to find the place I’d spotted from the hillside.
It’s a large, rundown cabin. I frown. Perhaps a little too rundown.
The porch that navigates the outside of the building is in a state of collapse, and the glass in the cabin windows is broken—and even completely missing—in several places.
I’d thought this man was practical. Why hasn’t he looked after his own property?
I call out, “Hello?”
I can’t get any sense of anyone being inside. Do I dare try the door?
I climb onto the rickety porch, careful of my footing. There are several loose boards, and some have even splintered right through, revealing a dark space beneath. I reach the door and rap my knuckles against the wood.
“Hello, is anyone in there?”
Breath held, I pause, listening hard for any sign of movement inside. None comes.
I try the handle, and the door swings open.
My jaw drops. There is no possibility on earth that someone lives here.
There’s no furniture, everything is covered in dust, and spiders’ webs hang from the rafters like Halloween decorations.
It’s dark inside, but a missing tile or two from the roof allows a shaft of sunlight to penetrate the gloom. Dust motes swirl in the light.
Is it possible I have the wrong place? Is there another cabin on the property I haven’t come across yet? I can’t imagine there is. I’ve done a fair amount of exploring over the past couple of weeks, and I thought I’d covered most of the grounds.
Only one thing rings true; Blake lied. There is no prepper guy who lives in a cabin out in the woods. But why would he lie about something like that? It’s so strange. The only thing I can think of is that he’s covering something else up, but again, I have no idea what that might be.
I wander around the cabin, searching for clues. Someone used to live here; that much is clear. While there’s not much in the way of furniture, I discover an old cardboard box, the sides warped and sagging, that contains a whole heap of paperwork that’s so old the text has faded on all the letters.
I remember the outbuildings and wonder if they’ll give me any idea who might have once lived here. Maybe whoever lived here was before Blake bought the place, but that still doesn’t explain why Blake would lie.
I leave the cabin, grateful to be back out in the bright sunshine.
The outbuildings are as rundown as the cabin, and I’m not even sure what I’m looking for.
I just know I want to get as many facts under my belt as possible for when I confront Blake.
Knowledge is power, and the more I know, the less he’ll be able to trick me with some falsity.
He’s clearly hiding something and has been since the very first day I got here.
I can’t help feeling disappointed in Blake.
That he’s lied to me about this weighs heavily on my chest, tightening my lungs and burning the back of my throat.
I’d thought I was able to trust him—that he was the one person in my life I could trust. But no, just like everyone else, he’s happy to manipulate the truth to his own benefit, even when it means lying to me.
The outbuilding is closed off by large double doors. A shiny silver padlock holds them shut.
I stare at the lock.
It has significance. The cabin door wasn’t locked, but this one is? Why? A person only locks a door if there’s something inside they don’t want others to access. Plus, the padlock is new. Everything else around here is falling apart. Whatever is inside requires security so no one can access it.
So, what is inside?
Solid determination sets inside of me. I take a step back and glance around. There must be something I can use to open the padlock.
My gaze lands on a large rock to one side of the path. I bend and scoop it up, weighing it in both hands. It’s heavy, but not so heavy I can’t maneuver it, and the stone seems solid and unlikely to shatter.
I focus on the padlock and lift the rock above my head to create the most momentum.
Then, making sure to keep my fingers out of the way, I bring the stone down onto the metal.
A loud crack sounds, but it’s not enough, so I repeat the process, again and again.
At no point does it occur to me that I’m breaking into private property, or that I could go and ask Blake if he has a key.
Someone is hiding something, and I’m determined to find out what.
Finally, the lock cracks and hangs open. I drop the rock on the ground with a thud and work to unhook the padlock and toss that to the ground, too
The doors open outward, so I grab the handles with both hands and yank them open.
It takes a moment for my eyes to get used to the dim light, but when they do, my blood runs cold.
In the middle of the barn sits a car, and I recognize it instantly.
A rush of heat sweeps over me, making me dizzy, and then immediately drains out of me and is replaced by ice cold. What the fuck is Tobias’ car doing out here? This is no accident. He didn’t accidentally drive it into an old shed and then get out and lock the shed door behind him again.
What possible reason would a person have to hide his car behind a locked door, all the way out here, in the middle of nowhere? There’s only one answer—something terrible has happened to Tobias.
An even more horrifying thought occurs to me. What if he’s still in the car?