didn’t dare alert whoever was in the cabin. She listened hard as she grabbed the pillow and squeezed it tight to her chest.
The sudden call of a loon echoed across the lake, and Sam shoved her face in the pillow, stifling her cry. She couldn’t stand the uncertainty and lowered the pillow, craning her neck as she struggled to hear. Nothing. The overwhelming urge to bolt from the bed and tear through the cabin, inspecting all the windows and doors, fought with the need to stay still, stay safe. The muscles in her left leg twitched while she battled the need to move.
She lost.
Grabbing the Maglite lying on the nightstand, she crept out of bed and across the room. With the light in one hand, she slowly turned the knob with the other and opened the door a crack. Holding an ear to the small opening, she listened.
Silence.
Carefully, she eased the door open and slipped into the hallway. The tile on the floor felt cool beneath her bare feet as she flattened her back against the wall. Slowly, with her hands trailing the wall for balance, she edged down the hall toward the living room. At the end of the hall, she half turned and sneaked a look around the corner.
Moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains covering the patio door, casting silver light across the floor. She drew back while anger melded with her fear. Damn, Anne hadn’t pulled the heavier drapes closed. She had gone off and left Sam exposed. Shutting her eyes, Sam inhaled deeply and steeled herself to take another look. Slowly she shifted until she could peek into the living room with one eye. No shapes lurked in the room, but shadows obscured its edges. Someone might be waiting in those shadows, waiting just beyond the moonlight, ready to pounce if she made a move. Clutching the light with sweaty palms, Sam caught a faint whiff of cigarette smoke and snapped back around the corner. The intruders had taken the time for a smoke while ransacking the cabin? In spite of her fear, the idea seemed ridiculous.
She looked again. Nothing had changed. No glow of a burning cigarette bobbed in the dark. And the scent of smoke was gone. Still huddled in the hallway, she felt along the edge of the living-room wall until her fingers found the light switch. She flipped it up.
In an instant, the shadows disappeared and soft light filled the main part of the cabin. The room looked exactly the same as it had always looked. The pillows on the plaid couch facing the fireplace were right where they’d been earlier. The dark wood doors of the kitchen cabinets were shut and the drawers were closed.
Sam limped from the hallway, across the living room to the doors leading out onto the deck, and snapped the drapes shut.
“Better,” she breathed softly. No one could see into the cabin now.
She crossed to the kitchen door and rattled the doorknob. It was firmly locked. She checked the catch on the window above the sink. Still in place.
Hobbling back to the living room, she went to the French doors and lifted the drapes back just enough to check the lock. The door was latched and the safety bar was in place along the bottom track. She found the other switch and turned off the lights, throwing the room back into darkness. Grasping the edge of the drapes, she stayed half hidden in its folds and stared out over the lake.
The reflection of the full moon glowed on the quiet surface of the lake, while the tall pines ringing the lake masked the far shore in inky black. To the north, the hulking shape of a small island guarded the entrance to the bay where her cabin was located. From her position, Sam saw the boathouse and the dock protruding out into the lake. Its weathered boards looked pearly in the moonlight.
Her hand tightened on the drapes.
At the end of the dock a lone woman stood with her back toward the cabin. The moon seemed to act as a spotlight shining down on her. Too short to be Anne, she had red hair that cascaded down her back and over white, white shoulders and arms.
The sudden call of a loon echoed across the lake, and Sam shoved her face in the pillow, stifling her cry. She couldn’t stand the uncertainty and lowered the pillow, craning her neck as she struggled to hear. Nothing. The overwhelming urge to bolt from the bed and tear through the cabin, inspecting all the windows and doors, fought with the need to stay still, stay safe. The muscles in her left leg twitched while she battled the need to move.
She lost.
Grabbing the Maglite lying on the nightstand, she crept out of bed and across the room. With the light in one hand, she slowly turned the knob with the other and opened the door a crack. Holding an ear to the small opening, she listened.
Silence.
Carefully, she eased the door open and slipped into the hallway. The tile on the floor felt cool beneath her bare feet as she flattened her back against the wall. Slowly, with her hands trailing the wall for balance, she edged down the hall toward the living room. At the end of the hall, she half turned and sneaked a look around the corner.
Moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains covering the patio door, casting silver light across the floor. She drew back while anger melded with her fear. Damn, Anne hadn’t pulled the heavier drapes closed. She had gone off and left Sam exposed. Shutting her eyes, Sam inhaled deeply and steeled herself to take another look. Slowly she shifted until she could peek into the living room with one eye. No shapes lurked in the room, but shadows obscured its edges. Someone might be waiting in those shadows, waiting just beyond the moonlight, ready to pounce if she made a move. Clutching the light with sweaty palms, Sam caught a faint whiff of cigarette smoke and snapped back around the corner. The intruders had taken the time for a smoke while ransacking the cabin? In spite of her fear, the idea seemed ridiculous.
She looked again. Nothing had changed. No glow of a burning cigarette bobbed in the dark. And the scent of smoke was gone. Still huddled in the hallway, she felt along the edge of the living-room wall until her fingers found the light switch. She flipped it up.
In an instant, the shadows disappeared and soft light filled the main part of the cabin. The room looked exactly the same as it had always looked. The pillows on the plaid couch facing the fireplace were right where they’d been earlier. The dark wood doors of the kitchen cabinets were shut and the drawers were closed.
Sam limped from the hallway, across the living room to the doors leading out onto the deck, and snapped the drapes shut.
“Better,” she breathed softly. No one could see into the cabin now.
She crossed to the kitchen door and rattled the doorknob. It was firmly locked. She checked the catch on the window above the sink. Still in place.
Hobbling back to the living room, she went to the French doors and lifted the drapes back just enough to check the lock. The door was latched and the safety bar was in place along the bottom track. She found the other switch and turned off the lights, throwing the room back into darkness. Grasping the edge of the drapes, she stayed half hidden in its folds and stared out over the lake.
The reflection of the full moon glowed on the quiet surface of the lake, while the tall pines ringing the lake masked the far shore in inky black. To the north, the hulking shape of a small island guarded the entrance to the bay where her cabin was located. From her position, Sam saw the boathouse and the dock protruding out into the lake. Its weathered boards looked pearly in the moonlight.
Her hand tightened on the drapes.
At the end of the dock a lone woman stood with her back toward the cabin. The moon seemed to act as a spotlight shining down on her. Too short to be Anne, she had red hair that cascaded down her back and over white, white shoulders and arms.
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