“I have to go.” I hang up before she can say anything else, then pocket my phone. Stepping onto the decking, I try the door, but it’s locked.
So, he’s a safety-cautious man who takes precautions. Interesting—unless he’s hiding something.
My gaze lands on the trash bag, and I pause. My palms are damp with sweat, so I rub them on my shorts as I scan the yard. The logical thing would be to turn around and walk back home, but my curiosity won’t let this go until I’ve investigated.
I crouch down, carefully untying the bag, then wipe the sweat off my forehead with my arm. The foul smell hits me first, and my stomach turns at the stench.
When it finally opens, a swarm of flies exits, and I release a squeal as I fall back onto my ass. My heart pounds as I watch them disperse into the air until I’m once again left with the distant sound of clucking hens in the background. I crawl closer, shifting the plastic aside to reveal matted, bloodied fur. “What the fuck?” I breathe, the bag crinkling in the summer heat.
“Looks like a cat.”
I startle and release a scream.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” the mysterious man who walked me home from the forest—the axe-wielding man—says as he holds out his hand for me to take.
Propped on my elbows, I stare at his long fingers and open palm, then him. I swallow any concern and clasp his hand.
He hauls me up with no effort at all until I’m pressed against his chest. His scent is everywhere—mysterious, like the wilderness.
“Do you always go places you shouldn’t?” he asks.
“I’m prone to putting myself in less than stellar situations.”
“You don’t say.” He looks down at me, a slight frown creasing his brow. But then he seems to shake himself off and steps back. “You shouldn’t be out here.”
“Why not?” I ask, watching him closely.
“Besides the fact that it’s private property? You could get lost.”
“I won’t get lost,” I say as he steps off the decking.
“I told you.” He gazes at me over his shoulder. “These woods aren’t safe.”
A slight breeze rustles through the trees, bringing with it the nauseating scent of decomposing flesh. My stomach rolls again, so I join him beside the stacked tires. “Why do you speak in riddles?”
His eyes glitter in the summer sun as he looks down at me, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips for the briefest second before he peers back out at the forest.
As much as it intrigues me, his silence grates on my nerves. I want to find out more about him. “What’s your name?”
No answer.
“Do you live here?”
“Come on,” he says, ignoring my questions. “Let’s take you back.”
His long legs eat up the overgrown grass as he stalks toward the fence. Once there, he holds it out of the way and jerks his chin in an unspoken demand to follow him.
I peer behind me at the tall house rising from the ground, with its heavy, moth-eaten curtains covering the large windows. Beside the door, the plastic bag crinkles in the breeze as a handful of flies hovers. The uneasy sensation of eyes on me crawls over my skin like ants, and my feet move before I realize it.
Crossing the lawn, I slip through the opening in the fence, careful not to brush up against him. My top goes unscathed this time.
“Thank you,” I say as the fence squeaks behind me. “Now, are you going to tell me why you speak in riddles—” I turn around and pause.
He’s gone.
I spin in a circle as I peer all around, but there’s no sign of him. He was here one minute, helping me through, and then what? Did he disappear into thin air?
With a huff, I cross my arms. I’m notthatbad to be around. He didn’t have to run off the first chance he got.
