“You know I can’t do that,” he says, sadly. He turns and ambles for the doorway, his keys jangling from the carabiner on his belt loop. Like a jailer.
“Lock your door,” is the last thing he says, but she doesn’t see the point. She’s trapped here anyway.
CHAPTER NINE
It snows again the next morning, because of course it does. Sarah lingers in bed long after the windows brighten, staring at the flurry of white. She can’t see the woods from where she lies, but the trees creak as gloomily as Sweetside Manor’s floorboards.
She needs to leave.
She needs to leave before they find Ben’s body, before they find her. Before she reveals any more of herself to Caleb. She came too close yesterday, when she’d practically begged him to help her get out of Sweetside. It was the wrong move. Now he knows how desperate she is. It’s always safer when they think she’s a nice girl who won’t cause trouble.
The flurries fade into drifting flakes, and she thinks about getting up. Maybe she can hitch a ride north. Maybe she can walk there in Elijah’s borrowed boots. Sling on her backpack and disappear.
And then she wonders if the other small towns she might pass through will be just as welcoming to anyone who looks like her.
Caleb and Elijah are her best chance for survival. For now.
Sarah’s heart skips a beat as the house sings Caleb’s theme song: the strong tread up the stairs, followed by a confident knock. She struggles to sit up. “Come in,” she says.
The door opens, admitting the soothing scent of coffee and aftershave. Caleb says, “You should’ve?—”
“Locked the door. Yes. Whatever.” She picks at an imaginary wrinkle in the quilt.
“It’s for your own safety. You know what the people of Sweetside are capable of.”
His overprotectiveness seems so pointless. A locked door won’t keep out a rifle shot. “You don’t need to helicopter over me like you do with Elijah.”
“You don’t know anything about Elijah. Or me, for that matter.”
Her chin snaps up at the sudden sharpness of his words. She doesn’t want to look at him, but can’t help it. She savors his straight nose, the inviting divot in his upper lip, the square jawbone that dominates his face. The shadows under his eyes bring out the vivid blue of his irises. She’s glad he didn’t sleep well either.
“No,” she says quietly. “No, I guess I don’t.”
Caleb deposits the breakfast tray on the vanity. “I’m going out to clear the snow. Donotleave the room.” His face softens, the dark brows drawing together. “I don’t want you to get hurt. You’ve been through so much already.”
When she answers tersely with a nod, he lumbers away and closes the door behind him. She frowns. Something about him is off this morning. The way he’d come in and left didn’t sound right.
He wasn’t wearing his keys.
Sarah launches herself out of bed and quietly opens the door. She creeps down the hall to the top of the stairs and catches a glimpse of Caleb’s broad back disappearing through the front door.
She bolts to his room, her pulse counting the seconds before he returns to the house. The door is ajar, and this time, she has no scruples about entering. The bed is neatly made, the copy ofOf Mice and Mensitting on the bedside table. A flannel shirt and a pair of jeans hang over a chair. She checks the belt loops and pockets but finds nothing. The top of the dresser is bare except for a handful of change. Where else would he drop his keys after coming home for the night?
She yanks the bedside table drawer open but finds only batteries and random cables. “Damn it,” she mutters.
“Are you looking for his keys?”
She jumps, her pulse fluttering like paper. Elijah leans against the doorframe. “Are you looking for the keys to the truck?” he asks again. “He doesn’t keep them in his room.”
Sarah laughs nervously and shuts the drawer. “No, you caught me being nosy. He doesn’t talk much about himself.”
“He hides them from me, too.”
She can’t lie to that sad, guileless face. Maybe Elijah can help. “I need to get out of Sweetside. Where does he keep them? He didn’t have them on his belt this morning.”
“I don’t know. I’ve looked everywhere.”
“Downstairs? How long does it take to shovel the driveway?”
