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Somehow, I get through work on Monday and Tuesday without being too suspicious. Thankfully I also manage to not die of nerves or anxiety or the dark, as inappropriateexcitementseethes through my body at the thought of following Ezra and Ashe out to a cabin to see them do…something.
Something that I’ve thought about a lot of times. Are they going to bury a body? Burn a body?Acid-batha body? Maybe they’ll do something worse, like cut someone up. That’s, apparently, something that Ezra is into, after all. So I doubt I would be very shocked if that’s what ends up happening.
Though I have to admit to myself that I’m not sure I can handle watching anyone chop up a body or saw it apart. Maybe they’ll be efficient and use a chainsaw.
True to his word, once Isaac is out of town, I don’t hear from him whatsoever. It’s as if he’s vanished off of the face of the earthagain, and I can’t help the way my heart twists in worry for the man that has come back into my life just as abruptly as he’d left it.
There’s also probably some unpacking to do with how easily I’velethim into my life, my bed, and my head, but I’ve never been a fan of that kind of thing, and I don’t see why I should start now.
Telina Lanehad pinged around my skull since Isaac said it, and finally, I’d written down what I hoped was the correct spelling of it before looking it up on my maps app.
Which is why, at eleven thirty p.m. on Tuesday night, I’m parking my car in an abandoned parking lot just outside a decrepit convenience store five miles outside of the city. The night is cold, and I’m glad I’ve brought my hoodie to bundle myself up in, along with my fleece-lined leggings. For May, it’s much colder than I’d expect it to be.
It’s almost as if even the weather is concerned about what’s happening tonight.
I don’tknowfor sure where this ‘cabin’ is on Telina Lane, though in the daylight, I’d driven up and down the long, winding road a few times to see if I could spy a likely candidate for a location.
Which I had.
Now I walk toward it, glad I’m in all black as I watch for the gravel drive that dips over a ridge and disappears into a forest of thick oak trees. If I’m right in my geography and my memory hasn’t failed me, I’m close to a smaller outlet of Banks Lake, meaning that there are probably a lot of cabins for fishermen and campers around here. Only, it’s not quite the busy season for most places. Especially this far north. So I doubt that many of them are occupied, especially if they’re rentals.
Owning a cabin up here for body disposal is probably a good idea with that logic.
I suck in a breath as my shoes skid on the gravel of the long, winding drive. No one has passed me or driven by, and even though I’ve stopped a few times to look over my shoulder or gaze around the area, I haven’tseenanyone nearby.
I haven’t seen anyone at all, actually. I’m not sure whether or not it’s a good thing. I could very well just have the wrong place and be going to just another abandoned campground or small lodging. It’s entirely possible, but I don’t have any other leads or ideas.
So I keep walking, the gravel drive dragging out in front of me and winding through more trees that I walk between, just in case someone does come barreling down the drive in a car and carrying a dead man on a roof.
It might not even be a dead man, I tell myself, unsure why I’ve latched onto the idea that this has to be where the Lost Boys do all of their body disposal chores. It could be a live body, after all. Or maybe neither.
Maybe this is just where they meet up to fuck or try out some really loud, really unsafe kinks. Who am I to judge if that’s the case?
Of course, I’ll judge anyway. Or at leastappreciateit if that’s the case. Though I can’t help but think that it likely isn’t and that it’s merely a fever dream that my brain is cooking up to distract me from what’s probably really going on here.
Noise like a distant car engine catches my attention, and I sidestep deeper into the woods, going behind a large tree and kneeling down so that a leafy, thorny bush obscures me. It shouldn’t be difficult, since I’m wearing all black and my hood is up to cover my forehead. At this point, my face is the only thing visible, along with my hands whenever they aren’t in my pockets. Hiding this well is probably overkill, but that’s okay with me. I’d rather be safe than sorry.
Slowly the engine sounds get louder until I can see a light through the trees, and I realize with a jolt that makes my stomach twist that whoever’s there is comingrightthis way.
Sure enough, as I wait, I catch sight of headlights and the front wheels of a black SUV. The tires crunch and pop on the gravel, moving at a languid, easy pace over the unpaved drive. Briefly, the lights illuminate my hiding place, and I cringe, hiding my face, but the vehicle doesn’t stop. Doesn’t evenslow downbefore it’s moving on and going further down the drive.
Sooner than I expected, I hear the engine being cut, and when I look up, I see the lights wink out of existence. Have they parked? Is the cabin, or lack thereof, closer than I thought it was before?
I make sure my steps are as quiet as I can make them as I creep closer, and a few minutes later, I can see the moon reflecting off of the exterior of the SUV that shines like an ant’s exoskeleton in the dim light filtering through the trees.
And sure enough, there’s a small cabin a few yards away. Meaning I’m either about to spy on some unsuspecting camper who’s probably just ready to go to sleep, or I’ve found the Lost Boys.
A big part of me hopes it’s some old fisherman, but I have doubts. After all, who would come herethis lateto a place in the middle of nowhere in an SUV thatlookslike it could be a hearse?
“You could turn around, you know,” I tell myself, my stomach tying itself in knots as it does its best to become an origami swan and fly away. “You could leave right now. Literally, at any point, you could get the hell out of here.” I can. It’s a possibility that no one’s stopping me from accomplishing.
But instead, as a light flares inside of the cabin, I skirt the edge of the trees and dart toward its wooden exterior, my teeth grit together as I call myself six kinds of bad names for my stupidity in being here.
Because at this point, it’s undeniable. This is almost certainly a bad idea.
Sucking in a breath that smells like the woods and camping and definitely a campfire, I sidle up against the wall and look in one window that’s not directly lit, still holding out hope that I’m going to see something completely innocent and non-problematic.
Though those hopes are dashed the moment my eyes find what’s in the room beyond, and my teeth grit together at the sight.
