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Finn nodded, his gaze following hers."That's because the Hubbards only moved in a few months ago.They didn't have much time to personalize it."
"I wonder why the killer chose this family."
"Maybe he didn't.Maybe he chose the house.It's isolated, set back from the road."
"Near a graveyard, too," Sheila said, following his line of thinking."That might have been important to him."
Finn nodded, and they both fell silent, staring at the house.
"Alright," Finn said, unbuckling his seat belt."Let's take a closer look."
Sheila stepped out into an afternoon that was calm and quiet.As they approached the house, Sheila studied the building more carefully.Pale yellow siding gleamed in the sunlight.The windows were framed by simple white curtains, and Sheila couldn't help but think how those curtains must have once given the Hubbards a false sense of privacy.She imagined the killer lurking in the shadows, peering through the windows as he plotted his vicious crime.
"Look at that latticework," she said, pointing to the side of the house where wooden slats crisscrossed their way up toward the roof."Seems like a perfect place for someone to climb."
Finn studied it briefly, nodding."Yeah, could be.Let's see if we can find any signs of disturbance."
They reached the front door, which Finn tried cautiously.It was unlocked, and he glanced over at Sheila uneasily before pushing it open.They stepped inside, the silence of the house enveloping them like a cold shroud.
The living room was sparsely furnished, with a beige sofa and matching armchair positioned around a small coffee table.But what caught Sheila's attention were the cardboard boxes stacked against one wall, some opened and half-emptied, others still sealed shut.
"Looks like they hadn't finished unpacking," she observed, noting the labels scrawled across the boxes in black marker: "Kitchen" on one, "Master Bedroom" on another, and "Lily's Room" and "Max's Room" on others.
"Such a shame," Finn said quietly."Just moved in, just starting to get used to the routines of a different house, a different part of the country.They had so much life to live."
Sheila picked up one of the smaller boxes labeled "Photos" and gingerly set it back down.Her heart ached for the Hubbards and their interrupted lives.
Suddenly, Finn's nose twitched."Do you smell that?"
Sheila sniffed the air and detected the faint aroma of roast beef.They exchanged a glance before cautiously following the scent into the dining room.The table was set for four, complete with plates of half-eaten food.A large bowl of salad sat in the middle, surrounded by smaller dishes of vegetables and potatoes.The room itself was dominated by the rectangular wooden table, its surface marred by scratches and water rings.An ornate chandelier hung above.
"Looks like they were just in the middle of dinner," Sheila said, her voice tinged with sadness.It seemed a bit odd that Mr.and Mrs.Hubbard would have been in their pajamas already, but every family had their own ways of doing things.
Finn nodded, his gaze sweeping the room."This must be where the killer confronted the family."He pointed at several chairs that had been knocked over, their legs sticking up in the air like broken limbs.The floor beneath them bore scuff marks and scratches, further evidence of a violent struggle.
"Look at this," he continued, gesturing toward a crumpled sheet on the floor nearby.Several strips had been torn from it, their edges frayed."This must be what the killer used to bind the victims."
Sheila shivered at the thought, her mind racing as she tried to imagine the terror the Hubbards must have experienced.She was a big believer in taking self-defense classes, but she knew that no amount of preparation could guarantee safety in the face of pure evil.
Her gaze fell upon the sliding glass window that led into the backyard, and a chilling thought crossed her mind."What if the killer watched the family through this window before attacking?"
"Could be," Finn mused, following her line of sight."Let's check it out."
As Sheila reached for the door handle, Finn stopped her with a firm hand on her arm."Hold on, we don't want to disturb any evidence."He quickly put on a pair of gloves and carefully slid the door open.
Stepping out into the backyard, they were met with nothing but a few hundred yards of grass rippling off toward a ring of trees.There were no decorations, no outdoor furniture.In fact, it seemed as though the yard had been barely touched since the Hubbards moved in.
"Doesn't look like they used this space much," Sheila said.Turning around, she noticed an overhead light.It was on.
"If this light was on last night," she said, "then I can't imagine the killer stood at the door as he watched the family.He was probably hiding somewhere.But where?"
Finn stood beside her, his eyes scrutinizing every inch of the empty backyard."There aren't many options.Maybe behind that bush, or up in one of those trees?"He sighed."It doesn't do much good to speculate at this point.Let's head back inside and see if we missed anything."
Finn turned toward the house.But Sheila couldn't tear her eyes away from the edge of the treeline, where a rickety wooden structure seemed to call out to her.
"Wait, Finn—what's that over there?"she asked, pointing at the tall elm tree upon which an old tree house perched precariously.
"Ah, I didn't notice that before," Finn admitted, his eyes narrowing as he studied the structure."Must be from the previous tenants."
