Chapter 6
For a moment, none of us moved. It was like our brains were buffering, refusing to catch up, as if staying perfectly still might give the words we’d just heard time to rearrange themselves into something else. Something easier.
“She’s probably in the bathroom,” Ricky offered.
“She’s not.” Noah shook his head. “I was just in there.”
“Okay.” I forced my voice to stay calm. “Let’s check everywhere.”
We split up, though it felt pointless. The cabin wasn’t big. It was a small ranch with too many corners that suddenly felt important. There were only so many places a person could be. Still, every shadow earned a second look.
I took the back hallway, my boots scuffing softly against the wood floor. The bathroom door stood open with the light off. Maddie’s toiletry bag sat on the counter, pink zipper half unzipped, like she’d meant to come back.
“Maddie?” I called, my voice sounding too loud in the narrow space.
The linen closet was empty. I checked my bedroom, even though I knew she wasn’t in there. She couldn’t just vanish, could she?
In the kitchen, cabinet doors opened and closed. Noah searched places a grown woman couldn’t reasonably fit, as if fear had temporarily erased the laws of physics. Ricky crouched and peered under the table, then let out a brittle laugh.
“This is stupid,” he said. “She’s messing with us. She’ll pop out any second.”
But no one laughed.
Jake sat rigid on the couch, arms crossed tight over his chest. He hadn’t moved much since we started searching.
His eyes kept flicking toward the hallway, then away, never settling.
The sight of him there made my skin crawl—too close to how he’d looked at the kitchen table in the middle of the night.
I considered telling Ricky and Noah, but decided against it, at least for now.
The room felt smaller by the second, the walls inching closer. I couldn’t stop thinking about how remote we were. The drive up. The way the trees had closed in around the road. And then Bill’s voice slipped into my mind, casual but weighted.
Out here, help doesn’t come fast. Sometimes not at all.
I tried to shake it loose, but it clung to me.
“Did she say anything last night?” I asked. “About going out early? For a run?”
Noah shook his head.
“In this?” Ricky gestured to the window as snow slammed sideways against the glass.
Maddie liked morning runs and discipline and routine, but she wouldn’t be stupid enough to go for a run in a blizzard—especially somewhere unfamiliar.
“I’m going to look outside,” Noah said.
“Me too,” Ricky echoed.
Jake pushed himself up from the couch. He stood too fast. His knees buckled, and he dropped back down with a sharp breath, one hand flying to his head.
“Jesus,” Ricky muttered.
Jake waved him off. “I’m fine.”
Noah looked at me. “Why don’t you stay here, Blair? In case she comes back.”
“No,” I said, before I could stop myself. “I’m not sitting here.”
“But if she shows up—”
“I’d rather be walking around in a blizzard,” I cut in. “At least then I’m doing something.”
“I’ll stay,” Jake said, still pressing his palms to his temples.
Noah hesitated, then nodded.
We layered up fast with coats, hats, boots, and gloves. Outside, the world had shrunk. Snow swallowed everything beyond a few feet. The trees were vague shapes now, dark smudges against white. The wind cut straight through my coat.
“Do you see anything?” Ricky shouted.
“Footprints,” I yelled back.
My heart leaped, then sank.
“Just Bill’s,” I said. “From his truck to the porch.”
Noah circled the house, shouting Maddie’s name until the wind tore it apart. Ricky checked the shed, then returned, shaking his head.
“Nothing.”
We searched the SUV. It was empty with no sign she’d been there.
“Jesus,” Noah said, hands on his head. “Where the fuck could she have gone?”
“She wouldn’t just disappear,” I said.
But even as I spoke, my mind replayed the front door opening and closing. The fire cold. Jake at the table, eyes fixed and unblinking.
“We should go back in,” Ricky said. “We’re not going to find her if we freeze to death.”
We nodded and hurried inside. My teeth chattered uncontrollably, stopping only when I noticed Jake already pouring himself a drink.
“Any luck?” he asked.
“No,” Noah snapped.
I stared at the bottle in Jake’s hand, at how steady his grip was despite our current situation. “Do you think you should be drinking right now?”
“Why not?”
“Because Maddie’s missing.”
“What does me drinking have to do with that?” he asked, genuinely confused.
Noah paced. “We should call the police.”
“There’s no signal,” Ricky said.
I tried anyway. Emergency SOS failed, and my screen flashed a hollow apology. The quiet that followed was worse than the storm. My chest felt tight. The words pressed harder now, no longer something I could swallow down.
“I need to say something,” I said.
They all turned toward me.
“I heard the front door open and close last night,” I said. “A little after three.”
Jake’s head snapped up.
“And when I came out here to check . . .” I continued, my pulse climbing. “Jake was sitting at the kitchen table.”
“What?” he said.
“He was just staring,” I added. “And the fire had gone out. Twice.”
Noah and Ricky looked at him.
“What were you doing out here?” Noah asked.
“I don’t know. I sleepwalk sometimes. You know that.”
The explanation slid into place too easily.
“What does me sleepwalking have to do with Maddie?” he snapped.
No one answered.
Then Jake leaned forward and said, “Bill.”
“What about Bill?” I asked.
“You all saw how he was looking at her, and he’s the only other person out here.”
“That’s a big accusation,” Ricky said.
“So what if it’s true?” Jake shot back. “You think it’s a coincidence she disappears right after he shows up?”
Noah hesitated. “He said his cabin was up the road. My SUV could make it.”
“Bill told us to stay put,” I said.
“Of course he did,” Jake snapped. “Because he planned this.”
Before I could argue, Noah was already grabbing his keys. “Who’s coming with me?”
Jake slammed his drink down. “I’m in.”
I looked at Ricky, at the door, and then out at the storm raging just beyond it.
I had the unmistakable sense that whatever we did next, stay or go, it would be the wrong choice. Yet somehow, staying still felt worse.