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Travis jogs out of the room and I shuffle as far from the bed as possible. Turning away from the lunatic on the bed, I reach back and unclasp my bra. Let it fall to the floor and take a deep breath. Travis returns as I shove my underwear down my legs and kick them away.
Ever so slowly, he lowers his lips to my shoulder and presses a soft kiss on my skin. I tremble under his touch for one, two, three heartbeats before tears spill down my cheeks and the dam lets loose. Travis wraps an arm around my shoulders and holds me up as I fall apart.
“I’m here.” He kisses my temple. “I’ve got you now, baby.”
For endless minutes, we stay like this. I sob while he holds me in his arms and whispers reassurances.
The moment is cut short when Pepper’s bark rings through the air. A booming, cautious announcement to whoever approaches.
Travis kisses my temple, then steps back and hands me a damp washcloth. “Clean up and dress. That’s probably my dad with reinforcements.” He moves toward the door, his eyes never leaving mine. “Be right back. It’s only me, Ben, Pepper, and whoever just arrived. You’re safe now.”
My brow tightens as I swallow then nod.
Travis exits the room just as his name is shouted in the distance.
I scrub as much of the blood off my skin as possible before slipping my clothes back on. Grabbing the flashlight from the dresser, I bolt out of the room and search for my shoes. Ben stands in the middle of the living room. I spot my shoes near the couch and tug them on quickly.
“This place is creepy as fuck,” he whispers.
I open my mouth to say it’s the place where nightmares are made, but don’t get a word out. The overhead lights flip on a second before stomps echo through the antiquated bunker. I squint and shield my eyes as several people enter the space, Chief Emerson at the forefront.
Travis steps around him and points toward the bedroom. “Perp’s back there.” He crosses the room to me and offers his hand. I take it and rise from the couch. “I’m taking Kirsten back to the cabin. Meet us there when you’re done.”
“Officer Emerson,” Chief barks out. “She should stay until we question her.”
Travis turns an icy glare on his father. “Anything you need to ask can be done at the cabin.” The muscles in his jaw flex. “All due respect, she needs out of here.” He laces his fingers with mine and starts for the door. “You know where to find us.”
Wrapped in three blankets, tremors shake me to the bone as I sit next to the wood stove on the floor. Trixie nestles in my lap, her sweet purr soothing as I stroke her fur. Pepper lies beside me, head on my thigh, as she surveys the room.
On the couch, Ben sits on the edge of the cushions, his right knee bouncing without restraint. Up and down, over and over. I blink and let my gaze drift up. Arms tightly folded over his chest, Ben’s fingers wring the cotton of his shirt. On a hard swallow, tension lines his jaw a beat before his expression twists in frustration or concern.
Chief Emerson walked through the cabin’s front door minutes ago. And since then, he and Travis have been bickering in muted tones near the laundry room.
Rather than lean in and eavesdrop, I center my attention on everything else. The crackle of the fire. Trixie’s happy purrs. Pepper’s refusal to give an inch of space. Ben’s fidgety frame. The soft but constant patter of snow on the roof of the cabin.
But all those distractions fade to the background as Chief Emerson and Travis wander back into the room.
Chief Emerson pauses near the breakfast bar. My eyes lock on his, familiar yet foreign golden honey eyes stare back. Soft crow’s feet accent the corners. His skin paler and spotted with age. Where Travis has sharp lines and noticeable scruff on his square jaw, his father has softer, clean-shaven edges.
Is this what Travis will look like in twenty years? Prominent genetics that smooth with time.
“Ms. Sparks—”
Travis elbows his father as he mumbles, “Kirsten.”
Lips in a flat line, Chief takes a deep breath and starts over on the exhale. “Kirsten, I need to ask some questions. I understand this is a difficult time, but it’s best not to wait. The more time that passes, the more specific details may fade.”
Dropping my gaze to Trixie, I lightly scratch her cheek. She leans into the touch, purring louder. When I meet his stare again, nervous energy swirls beneath my diaphragm. “He’s… dead?” My brows cinch together. “The man in the bunker, he’s dead?”
Travis on his heels, Chief eats up the space between us before squatting down a foot from where I sit on the floor.
“Yes, Kirsten. The man is dead.” He reaches out and pats my knee before rising back to his full height. Off to the side, he sits in a guest chair, rubs his palms down his thighs, and pauses a beat before meeting my eyes. “Is the name Charles Yatz familiar?”
My eyes lose focus as I search my mind for the name. I repeat countless conversations I’ve had with patrons at the restaurant. Play back the nights I went out with friends, trying to recall the men that introduced themselves in the hopes of scoring a night of fun.
I close my eyes and clench them until they sting, until white flashes behind my lids.
Think, think, think.Charles Yatz. Charles Yatz. Charles…
