Page 4
My escort was up ahead, waiting for me again. He turned around slowly and then glanced down at whatever had gotten my attention. His expression softened briefly, before hardening into a stiff mask.
He began slowly stalking toward me. “You need to leave. Now.”
CHAPTER 2
Brittney
When I went out the front door, I was faced with a curved parking area, and then a long driveway bordered by trees. The crows hovered nearby, giving me side-eye and hopping from tree to tree, making a racket with their cawing and the flapping of their wings.
The way the property stretched out like a long tunnel made me feel weird, the longer I stared at it. It looked like it went on forever, but also to nowhere. It was like I was at a liminal threshold, and I was the only thing that existed.
I peeked over my shoulder almost hoping the man was watching me through a slit in the curtains, but all the windows were covered with heavy, thick drapes.
There was nothing to do but leave, and after shoving the strange feeling away, I darted off the steps and then ran down the path the moment my shoes hit pavement.
Once I was off the property and past the wall, I ducked back into the woods. The road could have gone literally anywhere, but I was sticking to the forest. It was the way I came. I wasn’t sure wandering into the unknown, trekking down that road, would have been the greatest idea.
The distinct thought that I’d never be seen again if I had, tickled the back of my mind. A crawling sensation, like I was being watched, climbed the back of my neck. When I turned around, nobody was there.
As soon as I was back under the cover of the trees, my pulse stopped racing and my heart quit pounding in my temples.
There had to be something in that house. The whole situation was too weird for there not to be. The crows, the eerie atmosphere, my jitters. It all pointed to something I very much wanted to uncover. It was just my luck someone would be breaking in or trespassing while I was there. What did he know that I didn’t? He had to have been guarding something amazing.
It wasn’t like my grandpa's things had a lot of monetary value, but it sure as heck looked like whoever owned that home was a collector of some really cool shit.
If I’d had more time, I would have explored deeper. Maybe I would have found the necklace and the ring on a table or in a little box—in addition to other awesome things. Now that I knew people could get inside and that no one lived there, I’d go back the first chance I got.
Then I remembered the computer room. I almost tripped over a tree root when the memory hit me. There was no way that particular space was unused. The desk was gleaming and there were no piles of dust on the monitors. Not that I’d seen, anyway.
My mind drifted back to the man who found me on the ground. What was his deal? He was hot and literally exactly my type. Mysterious and slightly creepy, super handsome, long black hair. Jewelry. With his makeup, he looked like a model or the main character in a fantasy.
He’d been intimidating, yes, but he hadn’t done anything to me other than boot me out of the building. I’d interrupted something and what that was, I didn't know. But I knew I’d return ASAP. That house was a treasure trove, and I could certainly ignore the foreboding long enough to make a search worthwhile. I wasn’t scared.
Evening was falling quickly, and I kept hitting the button on my phone, hoping I’d get the battery to give me just enough juice so that I could use my GPS again. Spending the night in the woods didn’t sound like my idea of a good time, not with the meager supplies I’d brought.
Finally, the device sprang back to life, and I looked at the map. Honestly, I hadn’t wandered that far away from where I needed to be. It was only about ten minutes out of the way and before I knew it, I was back in the parking lot where I’d left my car.
The rest stop parking lot had a gas station and convenience store, and I ran inside. The door chimed over my head, while I searched for the best path to the restroom. On my way toward the back, my stomach rumbled and I grabbed a bag of potato chips. I dropped it on top of the stack of bread crates that sat right by the women’s room door.
When I came out, a woman was standing there, tapping her shoe on the floor. “About time,” she muttered. “Who died?” she asked, eyeing me up and down, staring at my all-black outfit and dark lipstick.
Internally, I rolled my eyes and cussed her out. It wasn’t the first time someone took personal offense over my appearance. If I wasn’t being told my hair was too long, I was criticized for not looking like a rainbow. If you don’t like it, don’t look. Simple as that.
“My grandpa did. It was awful.” I let my eyes fill with water. “A terrible plane crash. He looked like burnt fried chicken. I miss him so much.”
The woman paled and sputtered and I walked away, trying my best not to laugh. Immature, I know. But the responses entertained me for days.
By the time I reached my vehicle, I realized I’d forgotten the potato chips.
When I finally got home, I threw a frozen dinner in the microwave and sat down with my notepad, marking the coordinates of today’s search area while I warmed up my food. It’d been years since I began looking through the woods, and there were spots I’d gone over twice, and some I hadn’t yet touched.
Sometimes I thought, “hey it’d be nice to have help again,” but I couldn’t trust anybody except myself to do this. No one cared as much as me.
After grandpa died, my parents sold or trashed everything he owned and donated the money to save some mold that only grew in Antarctica. I’d pleaded, begging for his checkerboard and a couple other things and was told I was “selfish.” So, I was on my own.
After I ate my crappy dinner, I lay in bed, my mind spinning with all the data I’d collected. I’d breached a new area of the woods and found a whole-ass house. One with giant, protective walls surrounding it. One that could contain all kinds of interesting things—including my grandfather's treasure. How lucky was I? It was like an archeological dig. Who knew what I’d eventually discover?
The house was slowly being absorbed by the forest, with all the ivy and moss strangling and dissolving the brick. The yard was shockingly neat compared to the condition of the building, so maybe it’d been treated with gallons of glyphosate? Wouldn’t be that unusual for this area.
