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"Finally," she muttered under her breath as she reached the front door and fumbled with her keyring, searching for the right key. Her tired eyes squinted against the glare of the setting sun, struggling to focus on the small pieces of metal. As the door swung open, she sighed in relief, anticipating the comforting embrace of her cozy home.
But something caught her eye as she stepped inside. Turning her attention to the side of her house, she spotted bright red paint splattered across the exterior wall. Her brow furrowed in confusion, she stepped closer to inspect the damage. The paint was haphazardly applied, like the work of a careless painter or the aftermath of a paintball battle.
"Are you kidding me?" Candace grumbled, feeling anger bubble within her chest. "Not again." The vandalism was just another reminder of how her once safe and peaceful town had changed over the past few months.
She'd heard bodies had been found on the Clark ranch. Young women.
She shook her head in anger, her eyes narrowing. Predators liked to lurk out in the boonies--they thought they could get away with all sorts of shit.
But frontier justice wasn't a thing of the past.
She secretly hoped Silas Clark got his hands on whoever was causing trouble...
The stories around the patriarch of the Clark family were legendary in the small town. And she knew a thing or two about Silas… and some of his boys. She smirked. In her line of work, you found out allsortsof nasty little secrets.
She allowed herself a grim sense of satisfaction, considering what Silas might do to a vandal...
But the red paint on the side of her house was a nagging reminder. She clenched her fists, trying to shake off the irritation that threatened to spoil her evening.
"Ugh, what is wrong with people?" Candace muttered as she shook her head in frustration. Her heart raced at the sight of the red paint splattered on her house - a result of the escalating vandalism in town. She tried to convince herself that it was just another random act, but deep down, a nagging thought stirred: Why her? The anger bubbled inside her, fueled by exhaustion and the persistent feeling of being targeted.
With a deep breath, she unlocked her front door and stepped inside. The familiar smell of cinnamon and vanilla greeted her as she flicked on the lights, casting a warm glow over her living room. A sense of relief washed over her; she was home, and she was safe.
She shrugged off her jacket and hung it on the coat rack. She moved through the house, drawing the curtains and switching on the lamps, creating an atmosphere of cozy solitude.
As she made her way to the kitchen, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of a disturbance. But nothing was out of place, and the only sound was the soft hum of the refrigerator. She let out a deep sigh, trying to calm her racing heart.
The fridge door opened, bathing her in a warm glow from the light.
Her fingers traced along cold glass, and she let out a little breath she hadn't realized had been pent up behind clenched teeth and pursed lips.
Her muscles eased, and she hadn't even noticed her left hand was still curled into a taut fist.
As the cool breeze from the open fridge door wafted across her skin, leaving a soothing sensation where it brushed by, she poured herself a glass of wine, savoring the rich aroma before taking a sip. She leaned against the counter, eyes closed, allowing herself a moment of peace.
A creaking sound pierced the silence, echoing ominously through the hallway.
Her hand stiffened on her wine glass. Her body tensed, coiling like a spring. Her pulse quickened, and she instinctively held her breath, straining to hear any other sounds out of place.
"Probably just the house settling," she murmured to herself, hoping to quell the unease that had taken root deep within her chest. But her intuition clawed at her, whispering that something was wrong.
"Hello?" she called out hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Is anyone there?"
She forced herself to stand upright, her legs trembling beneath her. The room felt suddenly oppressive, as if the very air was holding its breath along with her.
She cautiously moved towards the hallway, her heart pounding. She paused at the edge of the shadows, an irrational fear seizing her as she reached out to flick on the light switch.
With a soft click, the hallway was bathed in light, revealing nothing out of the ordinary. Candace let out a shaky breath, laughing softly at herself. "See? Everything's fine." She spoke more to herself than anyone else, but the reassurance felt empty, as if her home was no longer the sanctuary it once was.
"Maybe I should call someone,"she thought, her fingers hovering over the phone. "No, don't be silly. They'll think you're paranoid." She hesitated, torn between the desire for reassurance and the fear of being seen as weak.
That's when she saw it.
A window open at the end of the long hall.
She frowned.
She hadn't left that open, had she?
