Page 8 of The Intruder

I haven’t had anyone looking after me in a while—not since my dad died—and at first, I thought it was sweet that he seemed so concerned. He seemed like a nice enough guy. He doesn’t have a wife or kids living with him; I figured he was lonely. He’s also not too hard on the eyes, with his thick brown hair and easy smile and a nose that looks like it’s been broken once before, but it suits him.

But then I started to think about it. Why did a normal-looking guy in his thirties suddenly decide to move to a cabin in the middle of nowhere? When I asked him about it, he brushed me off, mumbling something about wanting to get closer to nature. It was a blatant lie—I could see it all over his face. Now every time he shows up at my door, I can only think one thing:

Why are you always here? What do you want with me?

Lee’s gaze darts around the living room and comes to rest on one of the windows. “Did you put duct tape on the windows?”

I nod proudly. “To keep them secure.”

“No.” His voice is emphatic. “You never tape windows during a storm.”

Despite the certainty in his voice, I question Lee’s wisdom on the matter. I’m sure I remember my father taping up the windows, and he knew everything.

“If they do break,” Lee says with an authoritative air that makes me think he knows what he’s talking about but still manages to annoy me, “they’ll break into bigger shards that will be even more dangerous. You don’t want a huge shard of glass to come flying at you.”

“No, I don’t.” I look away, embarrassed at my mistake. “Fine. I’ll take down the tape as soon as you leave.”

My words are a thinly veiled hint: You need to leave.

But Lee is far from done here. His gaze now lifts to my ceiling. “What about your roof? It doesn’t look so great from the outside, Casey. Did Rudy take a look at it?”

“He did.” I leave out the part where I made him eat dirt. “He’s going to fix it next week.”

He snorts. “Yeah, sure. Rudy is useless. You should let me fix it.”

Lee knows about roofs. He works as a contractor, driving out in his truck every day to various jobs. He has in fact offered to patch up my roof on several occasions, free of charge. But I keep telling him no, because I don’t want to owe him anything. That’s Rudy’s job, and I expect him to do it, and even though he hasn’t fixed it and there’s a storm blowing in, I’m still glad I never allowed Lee to help me.

“The roof is good enough,” I say, even though I was thinking the same thing not very long ago.

“It could blow off.”

“It won’t blow off,” I say with more confidence than I feel.

“You know,” he says, “if you want, you can come over and stay at my place. I’ve been working on my roof, and it’s really secure. No chance of blowing away. Also, I’ve got storm shutters and a small generator that will be enough to keep the well pump going.”

He says it like the idea just occurred to him, although I suspect that was his purpose in coming here in the first place. He came here to swoop in and rescue me from this death trap of a cabin.

“Lee,” I say.

“You can have my bedroom,” he offers. “I’ll sleep on the couch. No funny business—I swear. I’m just worried about you.”

Admittedly, he’s been coming here for six months now, and he has always been a perfect gentleman. He hasn’t suggested anything hinting at romantic interest in me and has never laid a finger on me. For the first month or so, I thought it was possible he might be gay. But then one day in the summer, I opened the door wearing a pair of teeny shorts and a tank top, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off me. He even stumbled over his words once or twice. Probably not gay.

That revelation made me even more uneasy though. He doesn’t seem like the sort of man who would be shy around women, so I have to believe if he were interested in me, he would have made a move by now. But if his interest in me isn’t romantic, what is it? Why is he always knocking on my door?

There’s something about this man I don’t trust.

With Rudy, what you see is what you get. If I had been stupid enough to go to his house, he’d have hit on me the entire evening and possibly tried to slip into my bed after nightfall. I almost certainly would have had to kick him in the balls at some point over the course of the evening. Lee would never try anything like that. I’m sure of it.

No, he’s definitely not a sexual predator. But somehow, I sense something much worse could be lurking at that other cabin half a mile down the road. And if I go there, I will regret it.

“I’ll be fine, Lee,” I assure him, even though I know there is a small chance the roof could blow off or the windows could shatter. But it’s a risk I’m willing to take. I’ve faced worse things in my life. “I’ll take down the duct tape. I promise.”

He looks like he’s about to argue more, but then he notices my folded arms and recognizes I’m not going anywhere. He strokes the beard on his chin that he has started growing out more and more since he moved here, although he keeps it well groomed. While he’s thinking, I let out an involuntary yawn.

“Tired already?” he jokes. “It’s barely dinnertime.”

I rub my eyes. “Didn’t sleep great last night.”