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Again.
The old timbers creaked, and for a second she thought she heard footsteps over the storm. But that was nuts, right? Just her imagination. Still, she had to be certain. “Come on,” she said gently, touching the Malamute on the back of his head. “Let’s go outside. Check things out. Come.”
Taking the rifle with her, she pointed the bayonet in front of her as she let the dog out and, from the porch, watched as he sniffed around the edges of the house and the path leading to the snow cave. While Merlin searched for squirrels or rabbits or whatever, she eyed the area around the cabin, where their footprints were covered in the icy powder of the ever-falling snow and the drifts were piling high against the rough walls of the house.
She spied paw prints from the dog and a trail of other small, deep impressions, probably from a deer.
No human footprints.
And yet she didn’t feel that she was alone. The back of her neck tingled, suggesting that someone or something was watching her. But she saw no eyes staring at her through the swirling snow, no dark figure lurking at the tree line.
Overactive imagination. You’re here alone with your child and dog. That’s it.
She was about to go inside, but took one last look around, turning slowly to survey the white landscape, her cheeks pummeled with sharp crystals.
The wind was brutal, coming in icy blasts that rattled the windows and screamed around the corners of the house.
In seconds, despite her down jacket, boots, and wool cap, she was cold to the bone. Shivering.
“Come,” she said to the dog, and followed him into the house, where the fire was dying, the edges of the room muted and shadowed. How long could she stay here? Sooner or later she’d be found. Someone was bound to see the lights or smell or see the smoke curling up from the chimney, or the heat exhaust from the furnace. Or someone might come across her car, and then there would be that pesky but incriminating electricity bill.
Also, her food was running low.
And she’d promised Renee they would return soon.
If Ray Watkins was really intent on chasing her down, wouldn’t he have already shown?
Hiding wasn’t solving any of her problems, just prolonging them. And what would happen if she got caught here by the owners? She stared through the window to the dark night. Soon, within the week, she’d leave.
And go where?
Ray could be waiting for you.
Biding his time until you return.
With Renee.
Her throat went dry and she tamped down the panic that kept rising in her. Maybe returning to California had been a big mistake. She thought of the years of torment he’d inflicted, the weekly letters, always without rancor, sometimes poetic, oftentimes apparently thoughtful, and often with a Bible verse attached, but they’d always given her chills and she’d seen through the normal words to the deeper, more-sinister subtext.
And that last letter:
I’ve missed you.
But there was more. The accompanying Bible verse that had been included in his letter and was unfamiliar to her. Did it, like so many of the others, she suspected hold a secret message for her? She couldn’t look it up on the internet, not now, but she’d seen a Bible in the bookcase in an upper bedroom. As Renee slept, she climbed the main staircase, the steps creaking under her weight. The upper hallway was dark and colder. She didn’t want to risk flipping on a light because it might be visible, a beacon in the night.
Using a flashlight, she located the bookcase, stuffed with dusty tomes in what was the largest bedroom. A faded rug covered the planks of the floor; the bed, draped in a floral sheet, positioned against the far wall. She let the beam shine over the faded books, and there on a lowest shelf, she found what she was searching for: a Bible. It was old and worn, its spine broken, several of the thin pages falling free. King James version.
She flipped through the pages quickly, finding Romans and turning to the passage:
For he is the minister of God to thee for good.
But if thou do that which is evil, be afraid; for he beareth not the sword in vain: for he is the minister of God, a revenger to execute wrath upon him that doeth evil. Romans 13:4
Fear as cold and bleak as the night swept through her.
The message was clear. Ray Watkins considered himself the minister of God, the revenger and executioner.
From habit, she sketched the sign of the cross over her chest, then hurried quickly to the lower level. Had she made the right choice coming here? Was it safe? Should she take Renee and the dog and leave, hide out in a city filled with people rather than this isolated cabin?
