by Laura Wolfe
“Isn’t it over twelve miles to the main road?” There was a hitch in Charlotte’s voice like she might start crying again.
Kaitlyn nodded. “Something like that, but maybe we’ll run into a car sooner.”
Jenna rubbed her ankle. “Even with this bandage, I don’t know if I can make it that many miles.”
“Or we could use the landline in Travis’s house.” I crossed my arms in front of me, not believing the words coming out of my mouth. As much as I wanted to avoid any run-ins with the cabin owner’s girlfriend, the thought of spending another night in this remote place made my stomach convulse. “We can knock on the front door first. If no one answers, we’ll break in and call for help.”
Jenna’s shoulders straightened, a spark of hope igniting in her eyes. “Yeah. That’s a good idea, Megan. We still have a few hours of daylight.”
Charlotte leaned forward. “What about his truck? We should look for the keys. If we can’t get to his phone, maybe we can drive to the police station.”
Kaitlyn blinked. “Did anyone check his pockets?”
We glanced at each other, realizing how dumb we’d been to not think of that idea sooner. We scraped our chairs back and filed inside. Next to the kitchen wall, the quilt covered the nauseating lump of Travis’s body. The tip of his hiking boot protruded from the covering. Splotches of crimson seeped through the blanket, adding grotesque blooms to the design. Jenna pressed her lips together and pulled back the cover, revealing the top of Travis’s shaved head. Kaitlyn had returned the gun to his person, where it now lay diagonally across his lap.
Jenna looked at me, but I shook my head. “You do it.”
Jenna inhaled a long breath as if she were about to dive to the bottom of a lake. She crouched down, her fingers poking into the pocket of the dead man’s camouflage pants. She bit her lip and shook her head, hobbling over to the other side. Her face reddened as she held her breath. Again, Jenna reached her fingers into the pocket, feeling around. She stumbled away and shook her head.
“There’s nothing in there.”
I leaned my weight into the wall, pressing my forehead against the cold, flat surface. I wondered how many more blows we could take before completely giving up.
“Travis!” A woman’s voice echoed from somewhere outside.
I froze, my heart reaching into my throat.
Jenna’s eyes stretched wide. “Shit! It’s his girlfriend. She’s looking for him.”
Kaitlyn covered her mouth with her hands. I grabbed a corner of the bloody blanket and threw it over the dead man.
Charlotte gently closed the sturdy wooden door behind the kitchen’s screen door and waved us into the living room. “Hurry! We need to hide,” she whispered.
We rushed into the darkened living room and crouched behind the couch.
“Travis!” the woman yelled, this time closer to us. I recognized her gravelly voice. Jenna was correct; she was the same woman who’d been at his house the day before. “You out here? You better not be standing me up again.”
My heart pounded so violently I worried she might hear it.
Heavy footsteps sounded across the wooden planks of the deck. Four knocks cracked at the door leading to the kitchen.
Shit! Shit! Shit! Had I covered the whole body when I threw the blanket over him? Or was his foot visible, like it had been earlier? I couldn’t remember. Regardless, the woman would see a bloody quilt draped over a human-like shape if she looked through the window.
More knocking. “Y’all in there?” Silence followed.
Kaitlyn perched on all fours next to me and stared at the floor. None of us breathed. My fingernails dug into my palms.
“Damn you, Travis,” the woman muttered. At last, her footsteps crossed the deck, then faded.
Kaitlyn started to raise herself, but I held up my hand, signaling her to wait. We couldn’t be too careful. Charlotte hugged her knees to her chest and hid her face. Jenna lay flat on her stomach and perched on her elbows. We looked at each other and waited. Five minutes passed. Then ten minutes.
“I think we can get up now,” Jenna whispered. The rest of us nodded.
I stood slowly, peeking over the edge of the couch. I feared the woman would be standing in the window, waiting with a gun, and ready to get her revenge for the death of her lover. But no one was there. My lungs released a gulp of air.
Kaitlyn crept toward the kitchen and peered around the doorway. “I think we’re clear.”
“Holy shit. What else can happen to us?” Jenna paced around the room, removing her fabric headband and then sliding it back into place.
“I’m so tired,” Charlotte said as she steadied herself against the couch. “And thirsty.”
I sat next to her. “We’re not safe. We need a plan to get out of here. Right now.”
The four of us gathered around the couch, but no one spoke.
I picked at my fingernail, weighing our dwindling options. “I’ll go scope out Travis’s house.”
“What about that woman?” Charlotte’s nostrils flared as she faced me.
My body was rigid as I pictured the wild-eyed woman with the frayed hair. “I don’t know. Maybe she’ll realize Travis isn’t around and leave.”
Jenna frowned and shook her head. “I think she lives there.”
“We don’t know that for sure. Even if she lives with Travis, using that landline is our best shot at getting out of here tonight. Or at least by tomorrow morning.”
Charlotte nodded. “We can all go.”
“We’ll have to stay hidden this time,” Jenna said. “Remember, Travis saw Charlotte on his security cameras.”
Kaitlyn scratched her forehead. “I mean, even if that woman is at the house, can’t we just ask her to use the phone? It’s not like she knows we shot her boyfriend.”
Kaitlyn’s idea made sense, but even the thought of speaking to the woman caused my insides to tremble. I shook my head. “We don’t know how involved she is. It wouldn’t surprise me if she helped Travis puncture our tires.”
“Oh my gosh.” Charlotte’s lip quivered. “She probably knows Travis killed Sam. Megan’s right. I bet she’s been helping him.”
The others looked at me, mouths falling open and eyelids twitching.
I continued, “What if she starts asking questions? None of us are great actresses.”
Jenna jutted out her chin. “I’m pretty good. My rendition of Mary Poppins in my high school’s production was second to none.”
I stifled a smile, amazed Jenna had not yet lost her sense of humor.
Kaitlyn pinched her lips together. “This isn’t a time for jokes, Jenna. Let’s go and scope out the house. Then we can decide what to do.”
“Yeah. Maybe she’s not home,” I said, hoping it was true.
Everyone agreed with the plan. We couldn’t risk another nightfall without sending our SOS to someone in the outside world.
We waited inside the cabin for thirty minutes, hoping Travis’s girlfriend would give up looking for him and leave the property altogether. After enough time had passed, we crept along the trail toward his house. I practiced a positive thinking technique I often suggested to clients—envisioning the outcome one wanted while simultaneously working toward the goal. I conjured up the image of Travis’s vacant house, the front door unlocked. Jenna or Charlotte would slip inside and call the police while the rest of us hid in the bushes. We’d return to the cabin and wait for the comforting sight of spinning lights and patrol cars to whisk us away. The authorities would figure out how to get Sam’s body back to her family. By this time tomorrow, I’d be back at home with Andrew and the kids, dealing with survivor’s guilt and ready to re-evaluate my life.
I prowled along the narrow dirt road, my skin twitching with danger. After several minutes, Charlotte turned toward us and motioned for everyone to stop.
“Listen, there’s a shed about fifty feet from the driveway with some big pine trees around it. I think we should hide behind the trees back
there before getting any closer to the house.”
Jenna nodded. “Yeah. We can see if anyone is home and come up with one of two plans. Either the woman is there, and I’ll play dumb and ask her if I can make a phone call, or no one is home, and we’ll break in and use the phone.”
Both options terrified me, but none of us had a better idea, so we continued forward. Having already completed the trek so many times, Charlotte led the way. I brought up the back of the line, my heart pounding in my ears. A few minutes later, the path bent. Charlotte glanced over her shoulder, motioning toward the pine trees. I could see the outline of the shed through the branches. Up ahead, the run-down house sloped into a heap of white that reminded me of Travis’s dead body. His pickup truck sat in the driveway.
Kaitlyn peered through the branches, standing on her tiptoes. “She’s in there,” she whispered.
Jenna closed her eyes. “Shit.”
I edged next to them and looked for myself. Sure enough, the outline of a woman’s head wavered in the front window as if she were standing at a sink, washing dishes.
Jenna sucked in a breath. “I guess I’ll knock on the door and ask if I can use the phone.”
“I’ll do it, Jenna.” Charlotte stepped forward. “It’s my fault we’re all here. It’s my stupid minivan that has flat tires.”
“No. It’s my ankle that’s keeping us trapped here. I’ll go.”
The rumble of a motor interrupted their debate. A familiar black pickup truck with a makeshift exhaust pipe protruding from the hood sped up the dirt driveway from the opposite direction, its sputtering engine polluting the tranquility of the forest.
My hands went limp. “Oh, great.”
“It’s the same guy who almost ran us off the road,” Jenna said under her breath.
Charlotte glared at us, holding her finger to her lips. We bunched together behind the trees and watched as the truck lurched to a halt. A lanky guy dressed in head-to-toe camouflage jumped out, slamming the door behind him. He had shaved his black hair close to his head in a military-style crew cut, and his pale, veiny neck bore the same knife tattoo that Travis had inked across his skin—likely another symbol of their hateful group.
The front door of the house opened, and the woman we’d seen earlier stepped outside, squinting toward the trees.
“You seen Travis?” she asked.
The man rested his hand on his narrow hip. “No. Have you?”
“Nah. Piece of shit said he’d drive me home.”
“It ain't like him,” the man said, spitting on the ground. “Know where he went?”
“Don’t know.” She puckered her lips. “There might be a problem with the renters. They weren’t around when I checked before.”
“Let’s have a look around. I’ll get my gun.”
My breath lodged in my throat, the words “renters” and “gun” sending lightning bolts through me. I turned to face Jenna, whose eyes practically popped from her head.
“Oh no,” Kaitlyn whispered.
I envisioned Travis’s bloody body slumped against the wall of the kitchen. His friends didn’t seem like the type of people to forgive an accidental shooting. My feet felt like they were melting into the ground, my legs rubbery. “We have to move the body.” My voice was so low even I could barely hear it.
Charlotte looked at me and swallowed, offering a slight nod.
We crouched low and skittered along the path back toward the cabin, knowing a few minutes’ head start could mean the difference between life and death. As soon as we rounded the bend, we ran. I stayed next to Jenna, making sure she could keep up. Her stride was wild and lopsided, and she winced with each step, but she didn’t slow us down. I remembered her comment after she fell from the zip line: “Great. Now I have two bum legs.” Adrenaline could do powerful things, but still, my chest swelled with admiration for her determination to battle through the pain. I gulped in oxygen and kept running. Fear prodded me forward, even when a cramp twisted at my side. I tried not to think of Travis’s armed friends following a few steps behind.
By the time we reached the cabin, my jagged breath splintered from my lungs. Jenna lumbered ahead of me. Kaitlyn waved us into the kitchen, panting.
“Should we put him in the back with Sam?” Jenna motioned toward the minivan outside.
Kaitlyn shook her head, her cheeks flushed. “No. The cellar. Hurry.” She lunged toward a tiny door with a wooden handle at the edge of the kitchen. The cupboard-like door was painted the same cream color as the wall and blended in. Kaitlyn’s fingers grasped the knob and she yanked it open. Inside, a string hung from an exposed light bulb. She pulled it, illuminating the cramped space. “I looked in here yesterday. It’s empty. Just a dirt floor and lots of spiderwebs.”
I bent forward and peeked into the opening, finding a root cellar with a low ceiling. Cold, damp air seeped around my face. I stepped back, hugging my arms in front of me.
“Come on. Grab his legs.” Jenna stood next to Travis, gripping one of his forearms. His head hung forward, and I was grateful not to have to see his face. Charlotte hovered opposite her. They had removed the bloody quilt and tossed it next to the wall. The rifle lay nearby. I stepped toward them and gripped the dead man’s bony ankle as Kaitlyn took the other leg.
“One, two, three,” Jenna said.
Sadly, we knew what to do because we’d followed the same routine to move Sam’s body from the woods. Only, this time we couldn’t lift the skinny man’s dead weight. I wasn’t sure if Travis was heavier than Sam, or if we were struggling because we were all physically drained and exhausted. We tried a second time, but only Jenna was successful in lifting a limb from the floor. Travis’s body wouldn’t budge.
“Drag him,” I said.
Kaitlyn nodded. We pulled and strained as the body slid across the linoleum floor toward the cellar door. We lined him up, head-first, and shoved him through the opening. He fell three feet to the ground, landing with a nauseating thud.
Kaitlyn grabbed the quilt and threw it on top of him. Charlotte clicked the light bulb off and began to shut the door.
“What about the gun?” Jenna asked. “Should we keep it?”
“No.” Panic flashed across Kaitlyn’s face. “What if they see it? Then they’ll know something’s off.”
Voices sounded from outside. They were faint, but we knew whose they were. I grabbed the gun and dropped it into the cellar. Charlotte closed the door and pulled a kitchen chair in front of it.
A man’s voice reached us from somewhere down the road, followed by a woman’s muffled response. We scattered around the room.
A puddle of smeared blood marred the floor. Another stain spread across the wall. Splatter fanned out above it. I grabbed a handful of paper towels and mopped up the areas that were still wet. Jenna retrieved a bottle of cleaner and a stack of rags from under the sink and sprayed the dried blood, scrubbing furiously. Everyone helped as we discarded the bloody towels and repeated the process. The voices outside grew louder. I shoved more dirty towels into the garbage bin. After a couple of minutes of frantic work, the floor was hazy but clean. All visible signs of Travis’s death had disappeared.
Footsteps clomped across the porch. “Hello?” the woman said, followed by three knocks. The man grunted.
“Try to act casual,” Jenna whispered. Sweat glistened from her upper lip.
Kaitlyn forced her mouth into a smile, even as her bloodshot eyes betrayed her. She stepped toward the door, grasping the handle and pulling it open. “Hi.”
My eyes flew from the matted waves of Kaitlyn’s wind-blown hair to a dark object on the floor. I blinked as panic exploded inside of me. My hand covered my lips to stop the scream from leaving my throat. In our haste, we’d missed a spot. Near the leg of the kitchen table, two crimson drops of blood glistened against the yellowed flooring.
Chapter Nineteen
“Can I help you?” The metal spring creaked as Kaitlyn opened the kitchen door.
The woman cast
a shadow through the opening. “Yeah. I’m Marlene and this here is Ed. My boyfriend, Travis, owns this cabin. He said he seen you ladies the other night.” Her eyes buzzed around the kitchen like a fly. I prayed they didn’t land on the floor.
Kaitlyn nodded. “Yep. We did meet him.”
Marlene poked her finger through her crispy hair. “We can’t find him. Thought you might know something.”
I crossed the kitchen, my heart slamming against my ribcage with every beat. Charlotte rested against the counter in front of the sink. Her eyes followed mine toward the floor, her mouth dropping open when she realized what I was doing. I lowered my sneaker on top of the two drops of blood.
The woman peered over Kaitlyn’s shoulder, eyeing the rest of us. “Any of you seen him around?”
I glanced toward the wall, hoping the dim kitchen would hide my fearful and guilty eyes. I refocused on Marlene’s carved features and nest of bleached hair. I weighed her question, wondering if she knew about Sam’s murder. Had she been involved in some way? Or had Travis kept quiet and acted on his own?
Jenna stepped next to Kaitlyn, stretching her shoulders back. “We saw him Thursday night. Right after we arrived. That was the only time.”
Kaitlyn nodded. “Yeah. He stopped by when we were sitting out on the deck. He wanted to make sure we were settling in okay.”
“That’s the only time we saw him,” Jenna said, repeating the lie.
“You ain’t see him walk by or nothing?” Ed stretched his neck, peering past Jenna and Kaitlyn to look inside at Charlotte and me. “None o’ ya?”
“No,” Charlotte said.
I swallowed against my dry throat and shook my head. My foot pressed into the linoleum, hiding the evidence.
Kaitlyn smoothed back her hair with her free hand, exposing her bleary eyes and a pink nose. “To be honest, we haven’t been inside the cabin the whole time. We’ve gone out on a few long hikes. He might have passed by when we were gone.”
Marlene stared at Kaitlyn but didn’t say anything. The woman’s small eyes crawled around the room. She pointed at the ceiling. “What’s that?”
