Sydney
After what felt like a lifetime in the F-150, they turned down yet another leaf-covered road.Was it paved or dirt?Sydney would never know.At this point, she wasn’t convinced they traveled on streets.
While she had seen the sign for Eustis, Maine, it meant nothing to her.For all she knew, he could take her to a forgotten cemetery where he had a grave waiting for her.
Unlikely, though.When would he have had the time?He’d been with her for practically a week, and they were essentially attached at the hip.He hadn’t left her sight.
Then again, he was a guy who planned for everything.
It was completely possible there was an open grave somewhere waiting for one of his victims.While it might not have been initially intended for her, she could go in it.He’d proven that he could adjust on the fly when the situation called for it.
Shaking her head at the absurd thought, she snorted to herself.Sydney was tired.She wasn’t thinking straight.If Fink wanted her dead, he wouldn’t have driven her out to the middle of the woods in Maine to do it.
He could’ve stabbed her with any of the sharp, pointy items they’d used on Burke and shoved her in the ocean at the port in New Jersey.While she’d learned Fink had a flair for theatrics with killing, going this far to kill her was not only extreme but nonsensical.
Sydney was a ghost.He knew that about her from the background check he’d run on her.There was no reason to go to any sort of extravagant lengths to get rid of her.Considering she’d quit her job recently and had no proper family to speak of and practically no friends, no one would miss her were he to dispose of her.
But he wouldn’t do that.
The truck coming to a full stop ripped her out of her speculation and allowed her to take in the surrounding sights.
Bright rays of sunshine broke through the heavy canopy of leaves above their heads.A dense forest surrounded the decent-sized clearing they occupied.
Before them stood a raised, aged log cabin with a wraparound porch.It wasn’t run-down, but it most certainly wasn’t new.There was a slight sag in the roof from age, but overall, the home looked solid.She got the sense the place had seen some things.There was history there, and she was willing to bet he was astutely familiar with every bit of it.
Maybe he’d share some details with her.
“It was built in the late 1960s,” he said as though he could read her thoughts.
With a groan, he rested his forearms on the steering wheel and leaned over it, clearly admiring the house before them.
The appreciation in his tone made her heart swell with more affection for him, if that were possible.Clearly, Fink appreciated the little details in life.
“Does it have indoor plumbing?”She didn’t want to be rude, but there was a possibility of an outhouse somewhere.Hadn’t they passed a small building with a moon on the door?Dear God, she hoped she didn’t have to trudge through the woods with a flashlight only to pee.She’d get eaten by a bear.
Beside her, he chuckled.“Of course.”He opened the door with a grunt and slid out of the truck.“Well and septic.The finest PEX pipes Maine has to offer.”
“That means nothing to me,” she said as she exited the vehicle holding the heart secured in the cooler.“But it’s fine with me as long as the toilet is inside the house.”
“I mean we won’t have to worry about the low temperatures, and yes, the bathroom is indoors.”
There it was again, thatWword.
She had to stop focusing on that.It sounded nice but didn’t mean squat.Sydney would do well to remember that.He planned to leave one day.
“So, what you’re saying is, this rustic lodge has hot water?”she asked as her stiff muscles screamed from being in the truck too long.
Fink made his way up the short stairway to the front porch.
Beneath it were rows and rows of chopped wood.How many years had it taken to accumulate that much?Once again, the image of the TikTok star chopping wood with Fink’s face flashed in her mind.If she were lucky, would she get to witness him adding to the stock?
Shaking off the thought, she followed him up the stairs, past the pair of Adirondack chairs, to the door.Surveying her surroundings, she noted a bird feeder dangling from one corner of the porch’s roof and a small birdhouse with sticks hanging out of it on the other.Interesting.He seemed to appreciate watching wildlife.
As he pushed open the door, she practically champed at the bit, waiting to see if the inside matched the outside.Would it be dated sixties décor or something more modern?The suspense was killing her.
35
Fink
