Pushing thoughts of the future aside, I shut off the ignition and hop from the truck. In long, hurried strides, I head up the little path to the porch and knock at the front door. While I wait for her to answer, I mentally prepare myself for anything. Hazel pink-eyed and teary. Perhaps pale and silent. Maybe she’s still on the phone with Jess. Or maybe she’ll open the door looking just like normal.
Of all the possibilities I consider, Hazel not answering at all isn’t one of them.
I wait a good thirty seconds before knocking again.
And again, there’s no answer.
I ring the doorbell.
Nothing.
Bands of worry wrap around my chest, binding tighter by the second.
Maybe she’s in the shower, and that’s why she can’t answer. That would be a completely reasonable explanation.
But my gut is telling me differently. It’s telling me something is wrong.
Walking to one window, then the other, I peerinside, but see nothing. Just an empty living room with one light glowing on an end table.
I knock again. And again.
Then I try calling her.
Nothing.
Something is wrong. I know it.
Though I would never just let myself inside in normal circumstances, these are far from normal. So I open the app that controls the security for all the cabins and bypass the locks. Once they’re unlocked, I open the door and call out, “Hazel. Are you okay?”
Still nothing.
I start working my way through the rooms on the first floor, keeping my voice low as I call Hazel’s name. With each empty room, my worry grows bigger. The sick feeling in my gut gets worse.
Just as I’m about to head upstairs to the bedrooms, something catches my eye in the kitchen. Or rather, beyond the window that faces the backyard, where a small patio and seating area are set up.
Not movement, but a shape. One I don’t remember being there before.
Alarm shoots through me. Could someone have gotten onto the property? But how? With all the security, we should have been alerted of a breach immediately.
My Sig is in the truck, but I have my Ka-Bar in my pocket, so I pull it out as I head to the door thatleads outside. Adrenaline surges and my heart beats faster. Terrible scenarios flash through my mind.
No.She has to be okay. I was only gone for an hour. The property is safe.
On a held breath, I open the door. Stepping outside, I glance around the small patio, all my muscles tensed and ready to strike.
Then I see her.
Sitting on the bench, hunched over with her arms wrapped around her knees. Her head is down, with her hair falling in thick curtains around it. As I hurry towards her, I can see the violent shudders of her body. Her breathing is rapid and shallow, coming in sharp, painful bursts.
“Hazel.” My voice is rough with worry. Dropping to my knees beside her, I touch her shoulder and repeat her name. But she doesn’t respond.
“Haze.” It’s more urgent this time. “Sweetheart. Can you talk to me?”
I take her hand, alarmed by the icy chill of her fingers.
Shit. How long has she been out here? It’s in the mid-forties right now. Far too cold for Hazel to be sitting outside in only a thin fleece and no gloves or hat.
First, get her inside. Warmed up. Then we can address the rest of it.
