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“Dunwoody, Georgia. Just north of Atlanta. I teach preschool and kindergarten. After I graduated from Emory and got my teaching certificate, I stayed in the area. What about you?”
“Chicago. I’m a writer.” He closely watched her face to see if there were any flickers of recognition but saw none. Maybe she’s not a crime fan.
“That’s so exciting. Obviously, you’re not a starving one, or you wouldn’t be staying here,” she laughed, waving her hand at the surroundings. “But doing what you love is its own reward. I’m sure somebody famous said that, but it’s so true. I don’t make a lot of money, but teaching kids is my passion. Especially the little ones. They are so brutally honest and appreciative of what you do for them … well, most of the time. Little kids are like vacuum cleaners … they suck up everything whether you want them to or not. Many parents would die of embarrassment if they had any idea what their five-year-olds have shared with the class.”
“I bet,” he said, unable to help being charmed by her zealousness for teaching.
When they finished dinner, she insisted on helping him load the dishwasher and clean up. Bash found himself enjoying her completely unfiltered manner. Her stories about her four and five-year-olds as a kindergarten and preschool teacher kept him entertained over brandy, two for him, one for her. When she subtly reminded him that she needed to get back to the cottage to find the water valves, he realized it was almost 10 p.m. He had been so relaxed in their easy rapport he hadn’t noticed the time.
Armed with two flashlights and a small toolbox he found in the garage, they made their way to the caretaker’s cottage.
Chapter Five
The walk back to the cottage was dark and uncomfortably silent. Morgan’s flashlight stayed trained on the ground, making sure she didn’t accidentally step on a snake. When they reached the cottage, she stopped to pull the key out of her pocket. Bash tripped over the doormat and stumbled into the already-opened door. If he hadn’t caught the doorframe, he would have tumbled to his knees.
“Fuck,” he yelled, straightening back up.
“Are you okay?”
“Just peachy,” he mocked testily. “I know this place is secluded, but it’s not safe for you to leave the door open. You have no idea who might be wandering through these woods, private property or not, and a bear could have easily gotten inside.”
She knew she hadn’t left the door open and figured the latch might be broken. When she turned to apologize, the beam of her flashlight hit him square in the eyes, which didn’t help his mood. He swiped it away with his hand.
“Jesus!” he snapped.
His change of attitude stung, but she held a smile on her face even though he couldn’t see it in the dark. When she showed up at his door earlier, she could tell he wasn’t happy about her intrusion. She hated to impose on people, but desperation had driven her there. If she hadn’t felt the squish of water in her shoes right before she grabbed the main switch of the electrical panel, she would be dead. Sheer panic sent her scurrying to the main house for help. Of course, she didn’t tell him that, wanting to win him over by being herself. It seemed to have worked until now. Apparently, it didn’t take much to set him off. There was no point defending herself.
“I’m sorry,” she said contritely.
They cleaned their shoes of mud and pine straw on the outdoor mat before entering.
“Where’s the electrical box?” he asked, not acknowledging her apology.
The cottage opened into one large room that contained a small sitting area, a kitchen, and a dining room table for two. The room connected to a short hall with a bedroom on each side, one smaller to accommodate the tiny bathroom at the end of the hall.
“In the closet of the bedroom on the left. Be careful. There is water on the floor,” she reminded him.
Bash slowly flashed his beam on the furnishings in the room. “The poor caretaker got the short end of the stick with this dump, didn’t he?” he commented dryly.
She couldn’t help feeling defensive for the Worthingtons. “The cottage was here when the Worthingtons bought the property. Beth’s teenage brothers use it to party with their friends.” Again, no response. He disappeared into the bedroom.
“I saw a rubber mat in front of the kitchen sink. If you’ll grab that and something to clean up the water, I’ll see if I can get the lights on for you,” he hollered from the closet.
She met him at the closet door with the mat, a mop, and a bucket. The water had leaked from a pipe instead of the roof. Although it was only a drip, it had grown over time. After Bash dried the area and put down the mat, he checked the electrical box to make sure no water had penetrated the equipment. He used an insulated tool to flip the power on.
“Let there be light! Yea!” she whooped as the lights came on in the bedroom. He snickered at her excitement.
“I’ll check for a water valve if you’ll make sure all the lights came on.”
Rushing to the main room, she basked in the glow of the lights for about two seconds before she noticed muddy tracks all over the scared wood floors. They began at the front door and made trails in every direction, which made no sense because neither of them had opened the cabinet doors in the kitchen. She looked at the bottom of her shoes. No mud. Where did the mud come from?
“Bam!” A shriek escaped her throat when the front door slammed closed.
“Well, hockey sticks!” she mumbled. Didn’t Bash secure that door when we got here?
“Everything okay out there,” he called.
“Dandy!” she hollered back.
