Page 11 of Mountain Grump
Don’t shoot me.
Which one of them sent you?
My cousin didn’t send you?
Standing, I stare at the front door.
Is her family trying to kill her?
I look around the property.
It’s remote. Hard to find if you don’t have the address. But there’s no security. No gate. And if someone who wasn’t supposed to be here found her…
It’s remote. Hard to find.
Unease crawls up my arms, but I shake it off.
Jack would’ve told me if his family was homicidal.
She must just be overreacting.
The edges of my mouth pull down.
Would a woman who smiles through her tears ask questions she didn’t mean?
Feeling like a total piece of shit, I turn away from Jack’s house and toward the fence.
I don’t slow my stride as I climb the small hill.
And I don’t slow as I enter the forest.
When I reach the fence, I brace the hand not full of ribbon on top of the post and hop over the barbed wire.
I make it two steps past the fence line before I stop and turn around.
The cut end of the ribbon hangs limply, already frayed. The once cheery decoration is now torn and sad.
I inhale the scent of pine.
Then I take two steps.
Chapter 6
Tilda
I leavemy shoes by the front door and walk through the house.
My house.
The entryway is just a rug.
The kitchen is on my left, with its U-shaped countertop and the sink below the window that looks out over the front yard.
Two stools are tucked under the far side of the counter, looking into the kitchen. And behind that is the dining area, which consists of a small square dining table and three nonmatching chairs.
The living room is on the right. I have my boxes of stuff lined up along the back of the couch and more against the wall under the front windows.
The couch is made of brown fabric that feels like velvet and is printed in a faded foliage design. There’s a low coffee table before it, all facing the wall that separates the bedroom—my bedroom—from the main living area. And against that wall is a six-drawer dresser with an ancient TV and a DVD player sitting atop it.
