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“Bad housekeeping?”
“Either that, or it’s been vacant for a while. I’m not so sure anyone lives here now, but someone definitely did at one time.”
There’s a brown floral couch that looks like something you’d see in a TV show from the late nineties. A tall grandfather clock, covered in dust, that sits against a wall and isn’t ticking. “Ugh. Disgusting.” I cup my hand around my mouth and nose when I see flies swarming over a sink of moldy dishes.
“I think you were spot on with the bad housekeeping.”
Jagger points the light at a table soiled in grime. Old newspapers are thrown about with old, crushed beer cans. Something glimmers on the table and catches my eye. “Wait. Go back with the light.” I walk over to the table and pick up the charm. “No fricken way.” I reach into my jacket pocket, bypassing the paper Jagger dropped earlier, and pull out the other half to the heart. With one in each hand, I hold them up together—a perfect fit.
Jagger leans over my shoulder, observing the heart halves. “Where’d you get that?”
“I found it at the library on Thursday. The day you met me on the trail then walked with me. Ya know?” My eyes sweep lazily over him. “The day you sent my study partner away to fetch a keg for you, which we need to talk about, by the way.”
“Oh, that day. I do remember that. Any idea who dropped it?”
“No. It was on the floor at the table I sit at.”
He reads the inscriptions out loud, “I’m with you wherever you go—Kenna.” And the other, “I’m with you wherever you go—Jeremy.”
“Kenna and Jeremy?” I repeat the names. “My mom once mentioned a Kenna. I’m pretty sure it was her roommate during her stay here.”
“No shit?”
“Maybe I should call and ask her. It might be some kind of clue as to who’s been screwing with us.” Fisting the charms, I drop them into my coat pocket.
“Wouldn’t hurt. But you’d have to downplay it, so you don’t raise suspicion.”
“I’d need your phone.”
Jagger pats his pockets as his way of reminding me he doesn’t have it. “It’ll have to wait.”
The sound of an engine drawing close has Jagger’s eyes, and mine, bolting to the door. My heart jumps into my throat. “Shit. I think someone’s coming.” I go left, then right, in a panic-driven state. “Where do we go?”
Jagger kills the light and grabs me by the waist, nodding toward the couch. “Let’s hide back there. We might actually get to see this person’s face.”
“Yeah,” I gasp, “then they might murder us!” I shuffle toward the door again. “We have to leave this cabin, Jagger!”
He reaches out and grabs my hips with both hands, pulling my back to his chest. “No. We need to hide.”
“My heart is going to explode out of my chest.”’
He leads me over to the couch and I slide back before he follows. “Dig deep for Badass Scar. I know she’s in there somewhere.”
I slouch down with him, my knees knocking. “Badass Scar is in bed sleeping, where I should be,” I whisper.
Jagger takes my hand, pulling it between his crouched legs. “Let her sleep then. I’ve got you.”
For the first time all night, I feel safe. Even as we’re hiding from a madman who could walk in that door any second—Jagger’s got me.
At least, he did. As quick as he took my hand, he lets go. “Stay here,” he demands as he stands up and slides out from behind the couch.
“Jagger! Get back here!”
His response is a hushed, “Shhh.”
“Damn you!” I peek my head around and watch as he tiptoes into the kitchen. He pulls open a drawer, then another, and when his hand comes up, I catch the glistening tip of a butcher knife.
My eyes widen in fear when he walks over to the door, knife in hand. His back presses to the wall beside it, and he rests his head back.
