Page 18 of A Love Like Candle Light

“Yes?” I squeal and jump. Okay, him catching me snooping might be the tiniest bit embarrassing. “Sorry.” I rub the back of my neck. “I’m nosy.”

“It’s okay.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “I’ve got nothing to hide, but I thought after your long day you might want to check out the room.”

“Yes,” I say quickly and motion for Abby to go ahead. My furry security guard. Though I suspect she’d run, rather than try to protect me. She isn’t distressed though, so I enter the room.

“There’s an en-suite bathroom over there.” Erik points to my left.

I take in the room. It’s cute. There’s a bed in the corner, but it definitely functions as some kind of hobby room when he doesn’t have damsels in distress staying over. One of the walls is lined with bookshelves, filled to the brim with what appear to be fantasy and nonfiction books. Several more that didn’t fit are stacked in front of the shelves, almost up to my hip.

“Whoa, you read a lot,” I say in awe and step closer to the shelves to have a better look.

“When I have the time.” I watch him from the corner of my eye. Judging by how worn most of these books are, I’m assuming he has a lot of it. “I’ll leave you to it. I’m heading back over to the lake at the crack of dawn tomorrow, so if you need to leave, just make sure to pull the door closed behind you, please.”

“Yes of course. Thank you.” I clear my throat.

Awkwardness settling between us makes the air heavy. The awkwardness of two strangers sharing a home on a random Tuesday night. It was hard to avoid, I guess.

“Good night, Kylie. Sleep well.”

Leaving the room is certainly one way to resolve it.

“Good night, Erik,” I mumble after while he’s already pulling the door closed behind him. His footsteps turn softer, the further he walks down the hallway and I follow where I assume he is with my eyes along the wall.

“Oh my God.” I sink onto the bed once I don’t hear any footsteps anymore, bury my face in my hands and force myself to take a deep breath. Abby is resting at my feet, clearly unimpressed by what’s happening.

I’m fairly convinced he isn’t a serial killer. The key is even in the door so I can lock it if I want to. Plus, there’s a ground-level window I could escape through.

If his intention were to kill me, I assume I’d be chained to his basement wall already.

It’s close to midnight now. Way past time I sleep off this hell of a day. So I throw on the jogging pants and oversized shirt I packed as pajamas and brush my teeth.

By the time I’m in bed, Abby is already snoring softly. She seems to trust Erik. Considering she never even quite warmed up to Zach, I’d say that speaks for his character.

The bed is comfortable. Not quite as nice as the way too expensive mattress waiting for me back home, but I’ll survive.

A sliver of moonlight falls through the window. Owls hoot outside, the sound accompanied by the fluttering of wings and branches swinging in a soft breeze.

Even though exhaustion weighs down my every bone, I can’t sleep. I toss and turn in bed when suddenly, something curious catches my eyes. A board filled with photos, wedged between one of the bookshelves and the wall.

Quickly, I turn around and stare at the wall instead, my fingers itching with the need to know what’s on there.

No, Kylie. You’ve been snooping enough. Leave the man some privacy. He was nice enough to let me stay here, don’t leave a bad impression by being a nosy bitch.

Snooping is rude. Snooping is very rude.

But something about it doesn’t let me go. In the second of a glance, I caught of it, I could swear I saw images of a little girl.

My heart beats into my throat, blood suddenly ice-cold.

Oh my God. What if he’s a serial killer after all and it’s a board of his victims? A trophy board.

I have to look at it.

At this points it feels like a legal responsibility. Think of all the potential victim’s families you’d help!

I turn the light back on, much to Abby’s dismay, and sneak over to the bookshelves, not daring to make a sound. As if he’d suddenly burst through the door and catch me.

I shouldn’t. But if he’s a serial killer, I should at least know if I fit his MO.