Page 32 of Taken Away

The corner of his mouth moved—a brief, grim twitch—but the hollow, bloodshot sadness in his eyes didn’t budge.

“No,” he said flatly, shifting the truck into reverse. “I lost a bet with a dead woman.”

He let the clutch out. The truck backed down the circle, its taillights bleeding into the gray drizzle before vanishing beyond the thick line of cedar trees guarding the main road.

Behind her, Moose let out a soft, lonely sigh that rattled through his ribs.

Aubrey stood on the porch another moment, staring into the darkness where Bennett's truck had disappeared.

Then she turned toward the front door.

Something white protruded from beneath it.

She frowned.

A folded piece of paper.

Kneeling, she pulled it free and unfolded it.

Four words stared back at her.

GO BACK TO PHILADELPHIA.

She turned the paper over.

Blank.

A chill crept up the back of her neck.

She lifted her gaze, scanning the empty porch before looking out across the rain-soaked vineyards. The mist drifted low between the rows of vines. Nothing moved.

She read the words again.

Yeah?

Whoever had left the note had no idea.

Going back to Philadelphia was exactly what she wanted.

Back to a life she actually understood.

But if she left Blackwood...

...it wouldn't be because someone had told her to.

It would be because she decided to.

She folded the paper into quarters and slipped it into the inside pocket of her trench coat.

Then she stepped inside, locked the front door behind her, and rested her forehead against the cool wood for just a second before following Moose deeper into the silent house.

Vanessa’s House

Night

Vanessa Mercer’s house sat tucked into the trees outside Cullowhee, far enough from Sylva that nobody dropped by unexpectedly and close enough to Asheville to justify the drive during distribution weeks.

The low-slung craftsman glowed beneath the storm, cedar beams and stacked stone washed gold in the soft exterior light while rain whispered through the hemlocks. Wide windows spilled amber light into the dark woods, and inside, low jazz drifted through the quiet mountain night.