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I grab her writing stuff from the front desk and work on clearing the table.
Faye has Carson’s jacket mended well before I’m finished. I catch one last glimpse of Carson waving goodbye before he dashes away.
Good riddance.
Faye insists on cleaning his room, and though I mention the meal prep, she won’t back down. We end up splitting the chores and have everything upstairs cleaned and polished in no time.
I continue vacuuming all the carpeted areas downstairs, and as I’m returning the vac to the laundry room, I hear this odd high-pitched noise.
Almost like a motor or something squealing?
No, wait.
An animal?
It’s definitely coming from outside.
As soon as I open the back door of the B&B and let my ears pinpoint the sound, it hits like an arrow through the chest.
That noise is faint, distant, and coming from Weston’s place.
Oh, no.
“Hercules!” I yell, taking off at a ground-eating run.
With my heart in my throat, I cross the distance between our properties in no time. Just as I’m rounding the barn, where I can see the edge of Herc’s pen, I notice it’s empty.
“Oh, crap on a cracker,” I sputter.
My eyes frantically bounce around the grounds, wondering what kind of trouble he’s Houdinied himself into this time.
I can’t see him in the pen. But I hear him somewhere, squealing like a lost kitten.
“Hercules! Where are you?” I call out, shouting as I run.
I arrive at the barn and check for loose boards, wondering if he could’ve pulled something up and gotten inside. He’s also not in the only stable he can access through the pig door.
Not good.
Another erratic squeal sends me flying back to the pen, the side closest to the barn. At the corner, near his water tank, I see it.
The boards are split apart like he rammed through them headfirst, a single sad board dangling in the breeze.
Scrambling to that section, I duck down and peer through the opening he’s made.
The ground is wet, muddy from the slight overflow of the water tank, but I see pig prints.
He squeals again, this time more faintly, just before another sound knifes my eyes.
A slamming door...like a car door or something.
West? Is he back?
I can’t see anything because of the house obstructing my view. I take off again for a better look, musing at how good this workout would be if this pig weren’t panicking me to death.
As I round the side of the house, I see this big black ball lumbering around.
“Thank God,” I whisper.
