I’m still mulling this over when Caleb returns, now fully dressed and moving carefully on his injured leg.
“Power’s still out?” he asks, lowering himself into a chair. “And there’s at least another foot of snow outside.”
Julia pours coffee into mugs and brings them to the table. “Yes, thankfully, we can cook and have heat from the fireplace. I guess you’re stuck with me for a while,” she says with a bright smile. “Might as well make the best of it.”
As I sip the surprisingly good coffee, I can’t help wondering: if Julia isn’t who she claims to be, then who is she? And what does she want from us?
Chapter 10
Caleb
“This looks incredible,” I say as Julia sets a plate of fluffy scrambled eggs in front of me. The aroma of melted cheese and fresh herbs fills the kitchen, momentarily distracting me from my suspicions. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“My mom,” Julia replies, bringing her own plate to the table. “She owns a restaurant in Colchester and always said food tastes better when you’re cooking for others.”
I take a bite and have to admit it’s delicious. Lana seems to agree, though she’s still watching Julia with barely concealed wariness. Scout sits attentively at her feet, his eyes occasionally darting to Julia.
“So,” I begin casually, “we need to head over to feed the animals at Jake’s place after breakfast.”
“Jake?” Julia asks, looking up from her plate.
“Our neighbor,” Lana explains. “We’re looking after his farm animals while he’s out of province with his girlfriend.”
I nod, maintaining our cover story. “Nothing complicated—just feeding and watering. Making sure everyone’s comfortable.”
“Oh!” Julia’s face brightens. “Would you mind if I came along? I’d love to help. Being around animals is kind of my thing, you know?”
I glance at Lana, seeing the same calculation in her eyes that I’m making. Bringing Julia along means we can keep an eye on her, but it also means she’ll see the barn where Lana found the first box.
“Sure,” Lana says before I can respond. “There are some kittens there you might enjoy meeting.”
“Kittens?” Julia’s excitement seems genuine. “Oh, I’d love that! I’ve helped deliver so many litters at the clinic.”
I finish my coffee, watching her reaction carefully. Nothing about her enthusiasm seems forced or fake. Either she’s genuinely an animal lover, or she’s a great actress.
“We should head over soon,” I say, checking the time. “The animals will be hungry.”
After we clean up the breakfast dishes and set food down for Scout, who turns his nose up at it, we all bundle up in our winter gear. The storm has died down somewhat, but the snow is still deep and the wind biting. I grab the UTV keys while Lana helps Julia find an extra pair of gloves.
Outside, the world has transformed overnight. Everything is buried under at least two feet of pristine snow, the landscape unrecognizable beneath its winter blanket. The UTV sits where we left it, now covered in a thick layer of snow.
“I’ll clear it off,” Lana offers, reaching for the small shovel we keep by the door.
“I’ll help,” Julia says, grabbing a broom.
Together, they make quick work of the snow while I stand by, feeling useless. The pain in my leg is worse today, a deepthrobbing that makes me grit my teeth when I think no one is looking. I probably shouldn’t be going out at all, but there’s no way I’m letting Lana go to the barn alone with Julia. Once the UTV is cleared, we climb in—me driving, Lana in the passenger seat, and Julia squeezed in behind us. Scout jumps in last, settling at Lana’s feet. The engine roars to life, and I engage the four-wheel drive and the snowblower before heading toward Jake’s property.
The journey is slow going through the deep snow, but the snowblower handles it well. Churning out a spray of snow that covers us from head to toe. Julia shouts enthusiastically over the roar of the engine about various animals she’s treated, and I find myself relaxing slightly despite catching only half of what she says. What I do hear seems legit—she talks about procedures and medications with the easy familiarity of someone who works with them daily.
When we reach the barn, I park as close to the door as possible. The lock is still secure, just as we left it. I fumble with the keys, my fingers stiff from the cold.
“You lock the barn doors?” Julia asks as I work the key into the padlock. “What happens if there’s a fire? The animals would be trapped inside.”
I pause, the question catching me off guard. It’s a good point—one a vet tech would naturally think of.
“Jake’s always done it this way,” Lana answers, but I can see she’s thinking the same thing I am.
“It’s just that fires can break out in the middle of the night,” Julia continues as I push the heavy door open. “Usually, it’s passersby who spot it first and call emergency services. They often have to break in to get the animals out.”
