Still, my pulse thrums against my skin as I step outside.
The barn doors stand slightly ajar, swaying in the wind.
I hesitate.
Logic tells me it’s just the wind, that old wood shifts and settles. That no one else knows I’m here.
But logic doesn’t stop the feeling creeping into my bones.
I take a step forward, then another, my heartbeat hammering in my ears.
The barn looms ahead, the doors yawning open like something beckoning.
I swallow hard, gripping my knife.
The past is buried, I remind myself again.
But the unease lingers.
And in the pit of my stomach, I know?—
Some things don’t stay buried forever. Maybe the body is underground, but what if those men come back?
Chapter Two
Hopper
Maddison’s head droops against my chest, her tiny fingers tangled in the fabric of my shirt. Her soft breaths, slow and rhythmic, tell me she’s almost out, but her eyes flutter open one last time as I turn the page of Goodnight Moon.
“‘Gain, Daddy,” she murmurs sleepily.
I smile, brushing a curl from her forehead. “We’ve already read it twice, Maddie. How about we let the bunny and the moon get some sleep, too?”
Her lips push into a pout, her eyes going wide with that look—one I swear she’s been practicing. Someone’s been teaching her how to pull this off, because it’s getting harder to say no.
But I’ve got a few tricks of my own.
I pull her closer, swaying gently as I hum a lullaby. Her fingers curl into my shirt, her breath slowing. The fight slips from her little body, sleep pulling her under.
Carefully, I ease her into bed, tucking the blanket up to her chin. By the time I step back, she’s already lost to dreams. I kneel beside her for a moment, taking in her warmth, the quiet hush of the house, the softness of this small moment. She’s my everything, and nights like these remind me how much I’d give to protect her from anything that could ever harm her.
The glow-in-the-dark stars on her ceiling cast a faint shimmer, just enough for me to brush a kiss to her forehead and step away without disturbing her.
As I close her bedroom door, the house settles around me.
I head toward my room, rolling my shoulders, already thinking about the stack of paperwork waiting in my office downstairs. I’ve been pushing it aside for days, but first, sweats.
Tonight, the wind has been restless.
I pause by my bedroom window, glancing outside. The land beyond stretches into darkness, blanketed in shifting shadows. The barn stands in the distance, its silhouette etched against the tree line, as familiar to me as my own reflection. Beyond it, across the fields, is the neighbor’s house.
It’s been empty for years—windows dark, driveway overgrown. No one’s lived there since I bought this property almost three years ago. Back then, I tried to buy it too, but no one could tell me who owned it. Every lead hit a dead end. I keep meaning to check with the county records, see if it’s for sale.
But as I glance out the window again, something catches my eye.
A light.
Faint, barely there. But unmistakable.
