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“My hand probably still smells like jerky,” she said, rolling those pretty eyes.
Grey.
They were gray.
And gorgeous.
She had those freckles I’d imagined too.
“Right, Storm?” she asked, petting his ears. “Well, ah, thanks for helping,” she said as I rested the shovel against a tree, then moved away from it, not wanting her to think I was going to use it as a weapon. “If you were coming from the trail,” she said, lifting an arm to point, “it’s that way.”
“Right,” I said, nodding. “No problem,” I added, waving toward the grave. “Glad he made it out okay,” I added, giving her a nod, then making my way in the direction she pointed.
I walked until I was far enough for her not to hear me anymore, but stayed behind a tree, watching as she found some decent-sized twigs, then put them together with some extra rope to make a cross, before stabbing it into the ground at the head of the grave.
That shit was unexpectedly sweet.
It was sweeter still when she pulled Storm over with her as she knelt, head bent, saying a little prayer over the bodies of his littermates, before standing, and heading back in the direction I’d seen her move the other night.
Interesting.
Since I knew there was nothing over there.
Save for the hunting cabin on this property.
And, judging by the way she couldn’t even touch the bodies of the puppies, I seriously doubted she was the hunting type.
I trekked back toward my car, shucking off my camping gear, then climbing inside, sitting there on the street just thinking.
It wasn’t until I saw a car driving out of that road, turning in the opposite direction of me, that I made a split-second decision to go investigate while she was gone.
It was risky as fuck, given that I had no clue how long she would be gone. But the closest town was a solid fifteen or twenty-minute drive. So I had at least half an hour to snoop.
That was exactly what I did, carefully driving my car into the spot hers had been, so there were no tracks to worry about.
The cabin wasn’t much to write home about. It looked like something an amateur had built, with no bells or whistles.
With a gloved hand, I reached for the knob, anticipating Storm’s barks, but when I pushed the door open, I found the space abandoned.
She must have taken the dog with her.
The inside of the cabin was even more depressing than the outside. Just the absolute bare minimum for survival. No luxury items around.
Save for, of course, the shit that was still in bags, or the stuff she’d clearly brought with her.
Something was niggling at me as I looked around, seeing store bags stuffed into each other, hanging from a hook on the wall, and items still boasting tags stacked about, but it wasn’t until I was parked back in my hiding spot on the side of the road that it struck me.
Someone who was planning a trip to the woods, for whatever fucking reasons someone might find to do that kind of thing, would bring luggage. Bags stuffed with shit from home.
They didn’t go to the store and buy everything new.
No.
Whoever this woman was, she’d come here in a hurry.
Like she was on the run from something.
Two thoughts hit me at once.
