CHAPTER 1
Rake Devlin (Silo)
Pulling onto the road that leads to my mountain rental, the tension from the last mission finally lessens and starts to fade away.
It’s always been like that with me. Growing up on the farm, when the struggles got too hard, in the aftermath I’d head to the fields or the woods to find solace and peace. To recenter.
I’ve been with most of the guys from our security company for over twenty years. First in the Army Rangers, now in the private sector. They know me and half the time my bag and camping gear is already packed when I return from an assignment. This last one was more brutal than some.
I’ve been renting the same cabin for the last couple years since we opened the Love Beach office and I agreed to transfer. I share an apartment in town but when I’m not working, I’m here.
Inhaling deeply as I make my way up the rutted road, I savor the scent of cedar and lavender on the wind. Last time I was here I helped the old lady I rent from replant her lavender bushes and cleaned up the woods growing too close to her home. Time before that I fixed her roof and tilled her garden. I’ve also done some repairs and upgrades on the cabin I’m in.
She’s a cantankerous old gal and read me the riot act when she first heard me pounding away. Said I was paying for all the damage I was doing. When I asked who was paying for rehanging and fixing the damaged door, her reply was a smile. “You needed something to do, son.”
Driving past her place now to get to mine, I notice an unfamiliar, older four door sedan in her drive. And her absence from her porch rocker. There’s a warning twinge in my gut, but I tell myself it’s just hunger.
My rental is smaller and more secluded about a mile deeper into the woods. Originally just a hunting cabin, there’s no actual road or markers to get to it. My truck can only make it about halfway. Hefting my military pack and two bags of supplies I trek the rest of the way.
A good-sized tree limb has fallen, barely missing the roof. That tree’s been dying for a while. Gonna need to cut it down this time.
Twila and I have an agreement. I pay monthly and maintain the place and she doesn’t rent to anyone else when I’m gone. She doesn’t have to deal with a bunch of misfits and wanna be mountain men who have no clue what they’re doing. The added perk, she knows I like to keep busy and she knows I’ll help with maintenance on her place as well. I cut three months of wood for her last time I was around.
I think she’s on limited funds, and I kind of like the cantankerous old broad. She seems to understand me as well. Giving me space and a to do list.
Dropping my load on the porch, I walk around the back and start the generator before going back to the front.
I check my trip wire before unlocking the door. As I turn the key in the padlock, I see the edge of a yellow sticky note slid into the crack between the door and frame. Her and her sticky notes.She calls them her love notes. Shaking my head, I have to smile, thinking of some of my favorites she’s left for me.
Can you stop by and clean my gutters? I’ve got pie.Or,The damn sink is leaking again. Thought you fixed it? Gonna up your rent. Or if you pick up steaks, I’ll cook dinner. Have bourbon.
Sliding out the note, I palm it, grab my bags, and take them inside. Then I make the second trip to get the rest.
Doing a quick glance around, I find everything is as it should be. Time to see what Twila is up to now. I pull the note from my pocket.
Protect my Norah.
You’re the only one I can trust.
Norah? Norah’s her granddaughter. The little girl with long dark honey hair I’ve seen pictures of and heard a lot about but never met. What the hell?
Walking through the woods as the sun is dropping, I stay hidden in the trees, watching Twila’s cabin. Twila’s car still isn’t back, but there a light on inside. I see movement through the window. The person is too tall to be my crotchety landlady. I watch and wait. They pace back and forth in front of the kitchen window. Pausing, their head dips forward and they cover their face.
Without thought my feet carry me across the yard, up the porch steps and I’m knocking on the door.
“Who’s there?” a soft, shaky voice calls from the other side.
“Silo.”
“Silo?”
“I rent the hunter’s cabin. I need to talk to Twila.”
I hear a gasp then a whimper before the door cracks open. I notice she keeps the chain I installed in place. Good girl.
“What did you call her?” she asks.
“Twila.”
