Chapter 19
The space beside her was cold when she came to. For a moment, Kara thought she had imagined all of it. The police officers, raccoons, and Colin. She felt so safe in his arms, wrapped in a warmth she’d been longing for.
With a pang of regret, she called Isaac.
“She’s alive!” Issac answered, tone dripping with sarcasm.
“That’s not funny.”
“I mean—what’s going on with you?” His voice was firmer now. Less patient. “Where are you?”
“At the house,” she replied.
“That’s not an answer.” Then softer, but sharper underneath: “You’re not telling me things.”
“We’ve been over this.” Kara closed her eyes briefly. “It’s just this house, Isaac. You wouldn’t believe the amount of stuff I have to get through.”
“Okay,” Isaac exhaled, but he didn’t sound okay. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
The line went dead before she could respond. Isaac always became overbearing when things slipped beyond his control.
She made a mental note to check in with him. He was her fiancé, after all. Wasn’t she supposed to call him about these things? Keep him in the loop?
Kara kept the police visit to herself for now.
She could have convinced herself it had been her imagination—just fear getting the better of her.
But the boot print had been real. Too real to ignore completely.
Kara couldn’t bring herself to tell Zoe or Isaac.
Her fiancé would demand that she return and leave this place in her rearview mirror, and her sister would spiral—Zoe always did when it came to anything even remotely tied to her.
She’d ask far too many questions, turn a single footprint into something monstrous.
And maybe that was unfair, because Zoe had earned the right to react however she needed to—but Kara couldn’t handle that.
Not when she wasn’t even sure what she was dealing with herself.
? ? ?
The realtor was due to come by that day to assess the house and property. Kara glanced around the room, taking in the small details, the things still out of place, the piles that needed attention. A few more things to clean, she decided, and the house would be ready.
Her gaze drifted, pausing at the window. Just the yard, unmoving, but she hesitated before turning away.
There was a faint creak behind her. Kara stilled, her hand clenching the cloth. She listened, and nothing followed. After a moment, she exhaled, forcing herself to move again. Maybe it was nothing.
Kara moved to the window, pushing the curtain aside just enough to see a white sedan pulling into the driveway. For a second, her chest tightened, but then she recognized Zoe’s familiar silhouette climbing out of the passenger side.
She opened the door before her sister could knock.
“Hey,” Zoe said, brushing strands of hair away from her face. Behind her was a sharply dressed woman in her early forties, clipboard in hand and a bright, overly rehearsed smile on her face.
“Kara, this is Janine. She’s the realtor I mentioned.”
“Nice to meet you, Janine,” Kara managed, offering a polite nod.
Janine stepped forward, all confident with practiced warmth. “I’ve heard a lot about the property. I think we’ll have no problem finding a buyer—these kinds of homes, family history and all, really resonate with certain clients. Lots of charm.”
Kara glanced behind her at the peeling paint on the porch, the crooked steps, the storm door that whined every time you opened it.
Charm, she thought. Sure.
“I figured I’d get the ball rolling. I know it’s soon, but it feels like the right time.”
Kara nodded. “It is. The sooner this chapter is closed, the better.”
Zoe studied her for a beat. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Kara lied. “Just tired. Been going through a lot of stuff.”
“Anything weird?”
It was ridiculous. She’d slipped the threatening note there while their backs were turned—just in case Zoe or the realtor started poking through the drawers.
Kara forced a wide grin. “Weird is kind of our default, isn’t it?”
They both broke into laughter, though Zoe’s eyes remained on her for a second longer than necessary, her eyes squinting slightly.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Kara said, stepping back. “I’ve got a few things left to pack.”
Kara sat at the kitchen table with her laptop open, trying to work while the realtor and Zoe made their way through the house.
Their voices drifted from room to room, occasionally fading before becoming clear again. Kara caught bits and pieces as they toured the property, the realtor pointing out small repairs and improvements that might help the house sell.
“The bathroom could use some updating,” the realtor said as they passed through the hallway. “And if you replaced those cabinets, you could probably—”
“We’re selling it as is,” Zoe interrupted.
There was a brief silence.
She added firmly. “Whatever it needs, the buyer can deal with.”
Kara glanced up from her screen, watching their shadows move across the wall before returning to her laptop.
The realtor gave a small, understanding hum. “Of course. I’ll consider that when I put together the assessment.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow to sign papers,” her sister said, turning to follow the realtor as she surveyed the outside of the house. “Are you sure you’re okay being here alone?”
“It’s just a house.”
But as the car pulled away and the silence returned, she felt the folded paper burning a hole in her pocket.
? ? ?
The sky hung low and gray; dark clouds gathered overhead, signaling the arrival of a storm. It was the kind of weather that clung to your skin.
She’d barely managed to get through the last few boxes in the attic. Dust covered her arms, and her hair was pulled back in a half-hearted bun.
She looked like hell and felt worse.
The air had turned cool and thick with moisture. Kara could feel the rain coming.
A faint knock at the door broke her concentration. Kara opened the door to find Colin balancing two steamy bags from Miller’s Bistro and a tray with drinks.
“You again,” she said, but her mouth twitched in something dangerously close to a smile.
“Just doing a wellness check,” he said, stepping inside as though he belonged there. “You haven’t eaten. You forget to. I know you”.
“I didn’t forget. I postponed it.”
He grumbled and dropped the bags on the kitchen counter.
“Sorry to leave you like that. It would’ve broken my heart to wake you. I had to open the restaurant.”
The scent of roasted chicken and garlicky mashed potatoes hit her in the face like a memory. He spooned food onto a plate and handed it to her.
She took it, their fingers brushing for a second too long.
“This is starting to feel like a routine,” she said between bites.
He shrugged, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, watching her. “You always used to forget to eat. You’d work double shifts and live off coffee and Tic Tacs. I hated it.”
“I didn’t know you noticed.”
“I always notice.”
Something about the simplicity of the food, the way he remembered that detail, made something soften in her chest. “You don’t have to take care of me, Colin.”
“I know,” he said, stepping a little closer. “But I want to.”
When she looked up at him, there was something familiar in his eyes that brought her comfort. The boy who once flipped burgers and slid her a grilled cheese at midnight turned into a man who still knew when she was running on fumes.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “For everything.”
He nodded. “Anytime.”
“Colin—” she started.
He didn’t let her finish. “I have to go,” he said quickly, already stepping back. His gaze lingered on her for just a second longer. “Call me before you do anything”.
And just like that, he was gone. Kara stood in the doorway for a long time, watching his truck disappear down the drive. The taillights blinked red once as he turned onto the main road, swallowed by the trees and dusk.
She closed the door slowly, then leaned against it, arms crossed, forehead resting on the wood like it might hold her up.
Her hand drifted to the ring on her finger. She twisted it once. Twice. Kara felt something rising between them like a tide that wouldn't be ignored forever.
This is dangerous.
Kara's reflection stared back at her in the dark window: tired. She looked like someone caught between two versions of herself. The woman she’d become in New York.
And the girl who had once believed in something softer.
A full, simple, happy life. She’d lost that part of her along the way to the version that Isaac loved.
That scared her more than anything. Because if she looked too long, she wasn’t sure which version of herself she still believed in.
Sleep eluded her that night. Kara carried on cleaning areas that were already spotless.
She moved into the back room, dragging the cloth across a narrow shelf.
She crouched to wipe along the lower cabinet, her hand brushing against something that didn’t belong.
Slowly, she reached deeper into the shadowed space, running her fingertips over it again, feeling the sharp contrast between the aged timber and the unnatural solidity concealed behind it.
A knot of curiosity formed in her chest as she stepped back and fumbled for her phone, switching on the flashlight and directing the beam into the darkness.
The light revealed only the faintest outline of something wedged inside the cabinet wall, and the more she looked at it, the more certain she became that it had been placed there intentionally.
Dropping to her knees, Kara angled the light closer and reached inside once more.
The object refused to budge at first, stubbornly caught in its cramped resting place.
She dug her fingers around the edge, determination overriding caution.
Whatever it was, someone had gone to considerable effort to keep it out of sight.
Bracing her shoulder against the cabinet, she gave it a harder pull, the wood groaning softly in protest before the object finally shifted with a reluctant scrape, inching free from the darkness where it had been concealed for who knew how long.
A book?
The cover was worn smooth in places, the edges softened with age. She opened it. The pages were filled with columns of names and numbers. A few dates she could make out. It wasn’t random at all, but was an organized record.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she flipped a page, scanning faster now. Dates. Amounts. Initials she didn’t recognize. A chill slid down her back. This was something hidden by George; her grip loosened on the book.
Whatever this was, it wasn’t meant to be found. She suddenly had the sinking feeling someone might already know she had.
Her eyes caught on a name. Not written in full—just an initial repeated in deliberate strokes.
The same letter. Over and over again, as she began to flip through the pages. There it was again. G. Then another. Could it be for Givens?
Kara leaned in slightly, studying it. Payments?
That’s what it looked like. Her gaze moved down the column, taking in the dates.
They were somewhat consistent—listed monthly, spaced too evenly to be anything accidental.
Her finger paused near the bottom of the last page.
The most recent entry was last year. Just before George went into hospice care.
She sat back a little, the weight of it settling in. Kara’s fingers trembled as she snapped the ledger shut. What exactly was this for?
The house creaked again, louder this time, or maybe it only felt that way. Suddenly, being here alone didn’t feel manageable anymore. She stood quickly, clutching the book to her chest, her gaze flicking toward the windows and the door, recalling if she’d locked them.
She had been walking around, pretending everything was fine, but now while holding something that could be the key to exposing all of it. She couldn't pretend anymore.
The thought flickered through her mind that maybe this was something she needed to handle herself, without involving the people she cared about.
“No,” she said to herself, shaking her head.
She wasn’t doing this again, not this time, when she already knew the cost of trying to do things on her own.
Her mind went straight to Colin, to keep him out of it.
But this? This was bigger than her feelings; she couldn’t handle it alone.
He was here the entire time, and he could know more than she thought. The decision settled into place.
Tomorrow—
She would tell him everything.