Chapter 7
The SUV crawled the last stretch of road like it was climbing out of its own grave.
Snow piled high on either side, the narrow drive barely distinguishable from the crowded woods.
Noah kept both hands tight on the wheel, easing forward inch by inch as the tires slipped, caught, then slipped again.
More than once, the engine whined in protest, and each time I held my breath, convinced this was where we’d get stuck.
Bill’s cabin finally came into view, or at least we assumed it was his. It sat two miles up the road, the only house we’d passed. Low and half buried in snow, its roof sagged under the added weight. One light glowed in the front window, weak and yellow.
The driveway was empty.
“It doesn’t look like he’s home,” Ricky said.
Jake leaned forward, gripping the headrest. “That doesn’t mean Maddie’s not here.”
The way he said it, certain, almost eager, made my spine stiffen. Noah killed the engine and stepped out first, his boots sinking deep enough to disappear. He didn’t raise his voice when he spoke.
“Maddie?” he called.
Jake slammed his roadie beer, as he called it, and shoved his door open. “maddie!” he shouted, his voice tearing through the trees.
“Jesus, Jake,” I snapped. “Be quiet!”
“What?” he said, already heading for the porch. “If she’s here, she’ll hear me.”
“And if someone else is,” I said, keeping my voice low, “he’ll hear you too.”
He flicked a dismissive hand over his shoulder.
The porch creaked beneath our weight as we climbed the steps. Snow had drifted up against the door, untouched. Noah reached for the handle. It turned with ease, unlocked, as if intruders weren’t even a possibility. Not strange this remote, but not comforting either.
We stepped inside, and the smell hit us first. It was metallic and sour, layered over damp wood and something preserved too long.
A single lamp cast uneven shadows. Taxidermied animals lined the walls: a raccoon frozen mid-stride, a badger baring its teeth, and a deer head whose glassy eyes seemed to track us no matter where we stood.
Shelves crowded the kitchen, stacked with jars of pickled vegetables, cured meat, and an assortment of things I didn’t want to identify. Each one was labeled in careful handwriting with dates stretching back years.
“Maddie?” I whispered.
Her name didn’t belong here. Then I saw the knife. It lay on the counter, blade smeared dark and tacky as if it hadn’t had time to dry. Beyond it, hanging from a hook near the kitchen doorway, was a skinned animal. It was small, pale, and unmistakable. A rabbit.
Jake walked straight to the fridge and pulled out a beer.
“Jake,” I warned. “Knock it off.”
He cracked it open anyway. The sound was loud and jarring in the silence. “What?” He took a long swallow. “This guy took Maddie. I think I can take a beer.”
“We don’t know that he took her,” Noah said.
Jake wiped his mouth. “And we don’t know that he didn’t.”
I turned away before I said something I couldn’t take back, and that’s when I noticed the pen, hockey-stick shaped, just like the one that ended up in my bag.
This one was more worn, though, the edges smooth, as if it had been handled too many times.
The sight of it felt less like a coincidence and more like a warning.
I pushed the thought aside, forcing my focus back to the room, to Maddie, to the fact that she wasn’t answering. We whispered her name again and again, checked the bedroom, the bathroom. There were no signs of a struggle. There was no sign of her at all.
“Let’s get out of here,” Ricky said finally. “This place is fucked.”
“No,” Noah said, dragging a hand through his hair. “She has to be here.”
I stepped closer. “She’s not, though.”
Jake exhaled hard. “Bill took her somewhere else.”
“Will you stop?” I snapped.
“What? Maddie’s gone, Blair. And the only other person out here isn’t home in the middle of a blizzard. That’s the simplest explanation.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but he wasn’t wrong. Why wasn’t Bill home? He had told us to stay put during the storm, so why wouldn’t he take his own advice?
Noah dropped his head and nodded once. We filed out, leaving the cabin exactly as we’d found it. Jake was last. I didn’t see him grab another beer, but suddenly he had a fresh one in his hand. He shut the door behind him and cracked it open.
Noah climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. The engine turned over with a reluctant cough. He shifted into reverse and pressed the gas. The SUV lurched back a few inches, then sank down, snow spraying in the air.
“Come on,” Noah muttered, trying again.
The tires screamed, a high, miserable whine, digging deeper instead of moving anywhere. Ricky swore and jumped out first, boots sliding as he braced himself behind the bumper. Jake followed, nearly wiping out the second his feet hit the ground.
“God dammit,” Jake said, laughing breathlessly. “This is just great.”
“Get out,” I said to Noah, already yanking open the driver’s door. “I’ll try.”
He hesitated, but the wind cut through us hard enough that no one argued. We switched places, and he got in line with the boys.
“On three,” Ricky called out.
I put it in gear, heart pounding. “Ready.”
“One—two—three!”
I hit the gas, and the engine roared. The SUV shuddered, teasing us with movement, but then it sank deeper.
“Again!” Noah shouted.
I tried twice more. Each time delivered the same result—noise, effort, and then nothing.
“Stop,” Ricky yelled. “You’re just burying it.”
I let my foot off the gas, hands trembling on the wheel. Burying it. Without help, we were stuck.
Ricky rubbed his hands together. “What do we do now?”
Noah looked back toward the cabin, its single light still glowing through the window. “We wait.”
“For Bill?” I asked.
“He’s got a truck. He’ll come back eventually.”
“And what?” Jake said. “We just tell him, ‘Hey, sorry, we thought you kidnapped our friend, so we broke into your place’?”
“We’ll say we came up to ask if he’d seen Maddie and got stuck,” Noah explained.
The wind surged, driving snow into our faces. My toes burned, then went numb. Every second we stood there felt like it was being stolen from us.
“What if Maddie’s back at the cabin?” Jake said suddenly.
We all turned to him.
“What if she came back while we were up here? What if she’s hurt? Or scared?”
Jake was right. I hated that he was, and I couldn’t help but think how odd it was. Less than ten minutes ago, he’d been convinced Bill took her. That’s why we were in this situation. Now, he was worried she’d show up at the cabin on her own accord. I stared at him, but he avoided meeting my gaze.
“We can’t just wait out here,” Ricky said. “Who knows when Bill will be back?”
The SUV idled behind us, doors open, keys still in the ignition. It felt wrong to leave it. Finally, Noah nodded.
As we started back down the road, I pulled my coat tighter around myself, unable to shake the feeling that we were being manipulated. That whatever had taken Maddie didn’t need to chase us. It already knew where we were going. And it was giving us a head start.