CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE #3
I found another door across from the bathroom by the kitchen and opened it.
It was a large bedroom. The curtains were spread; the moonlight illuminated the room.
The window had a direct view of the yard and dilapidated shed.
I could picture the fucker with his mug of coffee, staring out, knowing his wife or whoever the fuck was in there. Chills ran down my arms at the thought.
Oliver was still inside that shed. He’d probably notice very soon that the chain had been touched. If he looked harder, he might notice the page that was missing—currently folded inside my pocket.
I refocused my attention on the room. Time wasn’t on my side.
The bed was massive and made. A dresser stood against the wall with nothing on top but a lamp and a book placed square with the edge.
I didn’t need there to be much light to know it was an immaculate bedroom.
The very one Oliver slept in with Daisy.
I stared at the bed, that knot in my chest tightening.
There was something on there.
I took a step closer, my eyes drilling into the long piece of fabric. A nightgown. Brilliantly white. Folded neatly in the center of the mattress, like it had been placed there for someone expected to arrive.
I stared at it longer than I should have, trying to understand why that single piece of fabric made my skin feel slick with sweat.
It was only a nightgown.
But there was something about the way it sat untouched on top of the bed, as if it had been prepared for someone who hadn’t yet arrived.
Or maybe they had.
I looked around the room once more. There was nothing and no one. Only the nightgown. I let out a long breath, relieved to find the room empty, though I still couldn’t convince myself the coat was what I had seen.
A sudden sound came from the yard.
I wasn’t going to fuck about. I moved back toward the kitchen, doing one final sweep.
Through the window, I saw light flickering inside that shed.
A flashlight. The beam moved slowly across the room.
Then it stopped for a few moments before it turned off completely.
I frowned, picturing him inside that dark room. He hadn’t stepped out.
I wasn’t going to wait for him to.
I slipped out the back door, low and fast, and moved across the porch steps into the wet grass. My shoes sank into the mud. I kept my hands out in front of me, half blind, cutting toward the darker edge of the property.
Behind me, I heard the shed door smash closed. I didn’t turn around to look. I kept moving. The grass ended at the tree line. Branches caught at my sleeves and face. I pushed through them, not caring about the noise now. A twig cracked beneath my foot, sharp as a gunshot in the quiet.
Fuck.
I could feel his stare. I imagined him catching up behind me, silent, with that fucking shovel clenched tightly in his grip. I ran harder, avoiding the drive and yard where the moonlight showed every fucking inch of me.
I plunged into the trees. The forest swallowed me whole.
Branches tore at my skin and slapped against my legs.
I had no sense of direction beyond away.
Away from the cabin. Away from the shed.
Away from that kitchen sink, and the brown water, and the white stuff at the end of his shovel, and the coat that had looked like a woman.
And that fucking nightgown that made me want to throw up.
I stumbled over something in the undergrowth and went down hard on my hands. Pain cracked through my palms. Mud filled the spaces beneath my nails. I bit down on a curse and pushed myself up. Behind me, I heard movement.
A beam of light cut through the trees.
I threw myself behind a cedar, pressing my back to the wet bark.
My chest heaved. The light moved slowly.
It moved in methodical sweeps through the bush.
He was trying to find me. I needed to be cautious.
I was in this man’s backyard. He’d know the place and forest like the back of his hand.
Fucker hunted coyotes—I wasn’t going to enter that fuckery and win.
I waited until the light moved away, then pushed off the tree and kept going.
Every step sounded like a screech to my ears, giving away my position. My head pounded. My body felt weak. I slipped twice. The second time, my knee hit a rock, and pain shot up my leg so sharply it took everything not to shout.
Still, I felt watched. Like he was right behind me.
I moved and didn’t stop. Not once did my heart slow down. Here I was, a grown fucking man, running terrified like a child trying to hide from the bogeyman.
The trees thinned, and the gravel road finally appeared. The sky above had started to pale. It wasn’t daylight yet, but it was better than the blackness of night.
I stopped at the shoulder, bent over, and tried to breathe.
Fuck me, what just happened?
There had been nothing inside that cabin except a man washing mud from a shovel, a white nightgown laid out for someone who wasn’t there, and a room out back where Daisy’s name had been written like a reminder she still existed.
I continued to walk, my head swimming with mixed thoughts.
Maybe places remembered. Maybe enough fear left a mark behind. Maybe a room could hold on to what happened inside it long after everyone and everything had ebbed away.
It would explain why I was rattled to my bones. I felt like I’d seen something I shouldn’t have. A peek behind the curtain, but none of it made sense.
By the time I found the van again, the road was gray with early light. Reaching it felt like reaching home. I stood beside it, filthy and shaking, staring at the empty fuel can still sitting where it belonged.
Then I thought of Daisy.
I know you. I’ve known you all my life.
And I started walking back toward town.