“Ouch.” I breathe, my face twisting into pain as I lean my palms on the corner of the desk.
I glare at it when I spot a piece of paper poking through the cracks of the top drawer. As I rub my hip, I eye it closely.
I slide it open and find a newspaper. I grab the tinted yellow paper in one hand, and it reveals a pile of journals. I bite my lip nervously and turn to the door over my shoulder, making sure I’m still alone.
Just the occasional strong gusts of wind that continue to pummel through the cracks of windows are the only sounds I can hear.
I turn back to the journals and run the pad of my fingers over the leather cover. I know my limits and boundaries, and Irespect privacy. It seems like an incredibly intimate object. I wouldn’t dare read it. As a writer and artist, I know how intrusive that can come off.
I place the newspaper back on top of the journals, and the headline catches my attention. The first half is ripped off, leaving only the last paragraph entry.
SERIAL KILLER STILL NOT FOUND
Please send in any tips to the local police to help catch the man who is allegedly linked and responsible for the unsolved murders of the twenty men and women in the town.
The paper shakes as my hands continue to tremble from shivering so hard. Before I can turn the page to analyze the photo of the man, I’m screaming.
“Coraline. Gavin doesn’t let anyone in the basement. Not even me.”
I spin around, hiding the newspaper behind my back.
Merelyn stands at the bottom of the stairs, cane in hand, looking at me with curious knitted brows. Her hand coils tighter on the cane as she surveys me up and down.
“I-uh. I’m sorry about this.” I tuck the newspaper back into the drawer and do the walk of shame toward her. “There was an open window. The winds were pushing through the crack, making the door slam against the wall, so I came down here and closed it,” I tell her honestly.
I meet her narrowing blue eyes. She’s clearly suspicious of me but gives me grace and doesn’t start an interrogation.
“Come upstairs, dear. Georgia is going to remove the stitches from your head before the sun goes down.”
CHAPTER 12
CORALINE
“And that’s the last one,” Georgia says with enthusiasm as she scissors the last one. “You took it like a champ.”
She pats my shoulder, then discards the stitches into the trash can. She gives me a tight, dry smile as she tugs off her blue-green gloves and tosses them with the rest.
It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.
“Thank you.” I run my hands down my thighs. “Where’s Gavin? Shouldn’t he have been back by now? It’s getting late.” I suppress the worry in my tone.
“He likes to spend time with the horses.” Georgia huffs. “I’m going to get going. The nights during a snowstorm are the most brutal,” she says and heads out of the living room. She stands before the front door, bracing her beanie on top of her head and pushing it down until it covers her ears. “I’ve got to make sure Merelyn gets to bed okay.”
“I left a meal for you and Gavin,” Merelyn adds just as she hooks her arm in Georgia’s. “I cooked it before the electricity went out. It’s still good to eat. Please make sure my guy eats if you see him tonight,” Merelyn says as her face lightens, pleading genuinely. She speaks like a motherly figure. Every time shementions or looks at Gavin, her expression softens with a hint of sadness glimmering in her gaze.
“He can be stubborn that way. He’s always working and taking care of others that he forgets to take care of himself,” she adds, zipping up her jacket.
“Thank you, Merelyn. That’s very kind of you. I’ll make sure he eats.”
I’m eating in silence,a dinner full of unanswered questions running through my mind as I finish the last forkful of grilled chicken and broccoli. I stare at his empty chair with only the sound of my chewing to fill the tense void.
Where is he? He won’t let me go to the crash site, but he can leave to God knows where?
And why is there a newspaper about a serial killer in his basement? Is he just really into true crime?
Wait.
What if the man who is after me is The Sleepy Coldwater Serial Killer? What if I’m his next victim? Maybe Gavin…
