Page 3 of For Us

She stepped out of the car and into the dappled sunlight that filtered through the swaying branches above. Instantly, memories of summers spent with her father flooded back, each one a bittersweet reminder of simpler times. Here, she had learned how to fish in the nearby stream, and how to track deer through the dense undergrowth. It was also where she first discovered her love for reading, devouring every book she could get her hands on.

"Remember this place, Skunk?" she asked, glancing back at her faithful companion as he eagerly sniffed around the cabin's perimeter. He looked up at her and wagged his tail before resuming his investigation.

"Used to spend hours just sitting on the porch with Dad, talking about anything and everything," she said quietly, her voice thick with emotion. "I always felt close to him here, like I could share anything with him. But it seems I didn't know him as well as I thought."

Skunk trotted back to her side, pressing his warm body against her leg in silent support. Morgan gave him a grateful pat on the head before turning her attention back to the cabin. It was time to do this.

Morgan hefted her luggage from the trunk, the weight of it a reminder of the emotional baggage she carried with her. Skunk whined at her side, as if sensing her unease, and she gave him a reassuring pat before trudging toward the cabin.

The wooden porch creaked underfoot as Morgan approached the door, an old-fashioned keyring clenched tightly in her hand. She inserted the key into the lock, her pulse quickening at the thought of what secrets the cabin might hold. With a faint click, the door swung open, revealing a world she had left behind long ago.

"Ugh," she grunted, stepping inside and immediately recoiling at the smell of stale air and dust. "This place could use a good cleaning."

Her dad would have been the last one here, she mused, surveying the musty interior. The furniture was draped in white sheets, untouched since her father's death. She hadn't been here since her release from prison, and the realization weighed on her heart like a stone.

Skunk bounded in after her, his nails tapping on the wooden floor as he happily sniffed his surroundings. Morgan set her luggage down with a sigh and looked around, her eyes suddenly filling with tears.

Everywhere she looked, memories came flooding back: family photos adorning the walls, her father's prized shotgun mounted above the fireplace, her mother's extensive collection of books lining the shelves.

Seems like a lifetime ago.Morgan sighed, wiping away a stray tear. She knew she couldn't afford to get lost in memories; there was work to be done.

Morgan's fingers grazed the spines of her mother's books as she scanned the titles, searching for any clue that might help her unravel the mystery of her father's past. A floorboard creaked behind her, and Skunk's low growl sent a shiver down her spine.

"Skunk, what is it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. The Pitbull's ears were pricked forward, his body tense, and his eyes locked on the window.

"Is someone out there?" Morgan's heart raced, and she instinctively reached for her father's shotgun mounted above the fireplace. She checked to make sure it was loaded before carefully making her way to the door, Skunk following close behind.

As she stepped outside, the crisp air hit her face, only heightening her senses as she surveyed the surrounding woods.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" Her voice echoed through the trees, but there was no response. Skunk continued to bark and whine, his tail tucked between his legs. Morgan squinted into the shadows, her hands gripping the shotgun tightly, ready for anything.

"Come on, Skunk. It's probably just an animal," she muttered, trying to convince herself more than the dog. But deep down, she couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't alone. She knew better than most that danger could lurk in the most unexpected places.

Just as Morgan was about to retreat back inside, a deer emerged from the bush, its large dark eyes meeting hers for a brief moment before it bounded away gracefully. She let out a sigh of relief and lowered her gun, her heart still pounding in her chest.

"Alright, boy, settle down," she commanded Skunk, who whined but obeyed, his tense posture relaxing. Together, they went back inside the cabin, and Morgan locked the door behind them, vowing to be more vigilant than ever during their stay.

"See, Skunk? Just a deer," she said, trying to reassure both herself and the dog. "Nothing to worry about." Still, she couldn't help but feel a lingering unease as she stood in the quiet cabin, her father's presence looming over her like a ghost.

***

Later that night, Morgan sat on the worn couch, her fingers wrapped around a glass of scotch, savoring the slow burn as it slid down her throat. The fire crackled in the fireplace, casting flickering shadows on the walls, and Skunk lay curled up at her feet, snoring softly.

In her lap were several old photo albums she had found in her father's room, their pages filled with memories she had tried so hard to forget. As she flipped through the photographs, Morgan couldn't help but feel a sharp pang of longing for the simpler times depicted within them - summers spent fishing and exploring the woods, her mother's laughter ringing through the air, her father teaching her how to shoot a gun.

"God, Dad, what secrets were you keeping?" she whispered, her voice barely audible above the crackling fire. There had to be something here, some clue as to why her father had hidden his past as an FBI agent from her. But so far, all she had found were family memories and mementos of a life she no longer recognized.

Maybe it was all bullshit anyway. After all, it had been Derik who had left her the photo of her dad… a way to trick her, on behalf of the men who had tried to frame her, who were leveraging Derik’s son. Maybe it was an edited photo, but as much as Morgan didn’t trust Derik, she didn’t see the point in him lying to her about this one. Maybe she was a fool for believing the story about his son, but…

As much as Derik had betrayed her, he had still been a close friend for well over a decade. Even when she was in prison…

Morgan took another sip of her scotch, the warmth offering little comfort against the chill that had settled over her. She glanced around the cabin, unease still lingering in the pit of her stomach. The feeling that they were being watched hadn't entirely dissipated, and she wondered if it was her own paranoia or something more ominous at play.

Morgan's fingers traced the worn edges of a photograph, her eyes drinking in the image of herself as a child, standing beside her beaming mother. The warmth of the memory tugged at her heart, but she couldn't shake the sinking feeling that there was something missing - something vital.

"Nothing about the FBI," she muttered, frustration mounting as she flipped through page after page of family vacations, holiday celebrations, and everyday life. "Where are you hiding your secrets, Dad?"

Skunk shifted on the floor beside her, his soft snores a comforting presence in the otherwise silent cabin. Morgan glanced around, the shadows cast by the flickering firelight making her skin crawl. It felt as if someone was watching her, an unseen presence just outside her line of sight. But even as she tried to resume her search, her thoughts turned back to the strange sensation of being watched. She couldn't ignore it any longer.

---