The Cabin (9 page)

“Yeah, well, so would I. She wouldn't leave him. She kept saying she would break it off with Josh, but she kept postponing for one reason and then another. Finally, eight months later, she cut me off and chose him.”

My eyes bulged. “
Eight months?
” Kyle and Courtney hadn't had just a brief fling; it had been a full-on affair! She was seeing him through most of her relationship with Josh. “I don't even know what to think…”

He snatched the photo back. “Don't think anything. Courtney led me on and screwed me over. I would have done anything for her. I loved her so much, but she chose him. I hate her for what she did to me,” he spat. He'd turned cold and withdrawn.

I blinked in shock. The hostility coming from Kyle made me want to leave. He didn't sound like himself, and I hated that. “Don't say you hate her,” I whispered. Courtney was wrong for leading him on, and I was angry with her for hurting him, but she was our friend. And she was dead. It didn't help to be mad at her now.

He stood up and gestured to the mess on his floor. “I've got things to do.”

“What? You want me to leave
now
? Kyle, I can't…” Explanations. I needed them. He couldn't just make me leave without talking about this.

“I'm tired, Mackenzie, and frankly, I don't feel like talking about me and Courtney.”

Sighing, I got up too. Fine. I wasn't going to get anything out of him, and staying was pointless if he wasn't going to talk. Right now I needed some space too. “I'm sorry you got hurt.”

Kyle stared at me, his eyes dark and empty. Finally, he replied, “Doesn't matter now, does it?”

I turned and left his room, eager to be as far away from him as I could. He was clearly torn up over Courtney's death, but I couldn't help but feel betrayed by their secret relationship. And now, my happy, mischievous, caring friend had been replaced by a bitter, spiteful stranger.

I walked to my car in a daze. Just how much did Kyle hate Courtney for not choosing him? How much did he hate Courtney
and
Josh? Yesterday, I would have never thought he could have been capable of murder, but the Kyle in his room just now had been completely different. Was the furious person that I had just met—Kyle's darker side—capable of stabbing two people who were once his friends? An affair. Kyle didn't do that. He was loyal and had morals. Or so I had thought.

Friday, August 21

I pulled up outside the cabin, and my hands started to shake. I'd not been here since the police carted us off, and I didn't want to ever go back inside. I had to though. There
had
to be something the police missed because I was going crazy. Thinking the people I trusted most in the world were capable of something so heinous was not OK with me. There had to be clues in that cabin. You couldn't murder two people in such a violent and bloody way and not leave some sort of evidence behind.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I stilled. I slid the phone from my jeans, and my finger hovered over the screen. Kyle had already called me eight times today and I'd ignored them all. He'd never been so insistent before. On a heavy sigh, I clicked my phone to silent.

Blake's Warrior sat in the driveway, but that wasn't surprising. He didn't really have anywhere else to go to get away from his family, and I thought being at his mum's must have been awkward as hell. He couldn't go back home to his dad's because we all had to stay in town.

Police tape cordoned off the cabin, but the front door was open, so I guess Blake didn't care that it was a closed crime scene. Neither did I. Usually I was a rule follower, but there was no time for that now. Someone needed to figure out what had happened—and fast. What if the murderer started coming after the rest of us?

I walked into the cabin, ignoring the thudding of my heart, and looked around for Blake. The place was a mess. Everything had been turned upside down. Sofa cushions were on the floor. Furniture had been moved. Photographs had been taken down from the walls and spread out on the side table.

Blake was by the window, staring out in a daze. I cleared my throat. His head snapped around in my direction, and he arched his eyebrow. “What're you doing here?” he demanded.

Not letting him intimidate me, I stood up straight.
Trying to prove to myself that Kyle isn't the killer and find out who is.
“What are
you
doing here?”

“This is
my
cabin. Your turn.”

“Looking for…” I trailed off, frowning. I slouched in defeat. Who was I kidding? I had less than no clue how to catch a killer. “I don't know. Anything I can, I guess.”

Blake cocked his head to the side. “You're looking for a murderer. What makes you think you'll find any clues that dozens of police officers and detectives couldn't? They've gone through this cabin with a fine-tooth comb, Mackenzie. There's nothing to see here.”

“Well, they don't have as much to lose as I do, and we don't know they haven't found anything.”

He sighed. “So dramatic.”

“What happened here?” I asked, ignoring his comment.

“Police would've been searching for the murderer's clothes. They have the knife. It was one of ours.”

“They do?”
The knife! There must be fingerprints on the knife.
“And?”

“And they have the knife,” he deadpanned. “We all used them when we were cooking dinner together…and most of the other utensils, actually. Doubt they'll find much there.”

“The point is that the killer's prints might be on it too!”

My heart spiked with hope.
Please let them find someone else's prints.

Blake smirked, lighting up his striking blue eyes. “So what have you got planned, then? Sniffer dogs?”

“Are you going to help me or what?”

“Did I offer?” he replied, frowning.

“Fine, Blake, just stand there and look out of that window. Pretend I'm not here.”

“That's hard to do when you're talking to me.”

“What's your problem?” He was being a total bastard. “What's happened?”

“Nothing,” he grunted. “Just tired of all this shit. I want to know who killed my little brother, and I want all your friends to stop looking at me as if I did it.”

“And I want to know who killed my friends.”

“Friend,” he corrected. “You hated Josh, remember?”

I gritted my teeth. Somehow Blake had shifted the blame onto me when I was the one—the only one—who had his back. “Fine. I want to find out what happened to my friend and her boyfriend. Better?”

Ignoring that particular response, he asked, “Where do you want to look first?”

My head spun. Being around him was like being a human yo-yo; he'd reel me in and then shove me away. “You're helping now?”

“Don't make me change my mind, Mackenzie.”

“Right. Sorry. Well, I've no idea where to start. You know this place better than me. If he or she didn't use the doors, then what about the windows?”

He folded his arms. “They were all closed—
properly
closed—from the inside.”

“Yes, I know that, Blake.”

“Then why are you looking there?”

I glared. He made me want to kiss him and punch him all at the same time. He was pushing my buttons, and I was seconds from snapping. Why was no one taking this as seriously as I was? I needed to check, just in case. “Just do your own bloody thing!”

Blake's eyebrows shot up in shock. Before he could reply, I left the living room and walked into the kitchen. The kitchen was the most logical place for someone to enter or, at least, exit. The murders happened in the kitchen, and whoever did it would have needed a quick escape.

The sight of the floor that I'd seen covered in blood made me want to run back to my car, drive home as fast as I could, and hide in bed—but I couldn't allow myself that weakness. I didn't want to stop and think. I didn't want to face the reality of what happened.

“Mackenzie?” Blake called. I ignored him and shoved at the little window over the sink. The handle was down, and the window didn't budge. I was hoping the latch was broken and it would open with a little force. The police would have tried that already, of course.

“What?” I replied, shoving the wooden frame with as much force as I could muster. “Damn it!” I slammed my palm against the glass in frustration. “Why won't it just open?” I shouted, my frustration fizzing over.

“Stop.” His strong hand gripped the top of my arm and pulled me back. “This is ridiculous. It's not going to magically open, Mackenzie, and you're just going to end up hurting yourself.”

I held my finger up as another thought sprung to my mind. “Maybe I'm starting in the wrong place. I should find the murderer before I find out how they did it.”

“OK, Sherlock, where are we starting?” If I were Sherlock Holmes, I would have figured it out by now. I had no absolutely no clue, not even a hint.

“A hideout.” I turned on my heel and walked out of the cabin, rubbing the ache in my chest. The killer would need somewhere to hide, to wait for the perfect moment. I was sure of it. Sort of.

Blake's footsteps thudded behind me, crunching dried leaves on the ground. “You don't even know where you're going,” he said.

“No one knows where they're going before they actually go,” I replied, power walking ahead. “If you're just here to annoy me, then please turn around now.”

“You can't just go wandering off into the woods by yourself.”

I stopped, turned around, and glared. “Why do you care?” Blake blew hot and cold all the time. I had no idea where I stood with him.

He was right behind me, his gaze burning into mine.

I couldn't figure him out. Blake was a mystery and a pretty annoying one.

“Got nothing else to do,” he whispered, giving me goose bumps. His proximity made my earlier anger toward him fizzle out completely—almost completely.

“Liar.” There were probably hundreds of other things he'd rather be doing, including nothing at all.

His eyes narrowed, clearly disliking how I challenged him. “I want to find the killer too. No one else can give me answers, so why not tag along with Detective Mackenzie and see where it leads me? Besides, I can't stand being at home.” His voice lowered at his confession. I could only imagine what it was like for both him and his mom.

“I'm sorry.”

He smiled halfheartedly and shrugged one shoulder. “What are you looking for?”

“A shed or cabin,” I replied. “Anything the killer could have been hiding in.”

“Are you expecting to find bloody clothes and the murderer's ID too?”

“Hoping, not expecting. There any places you can show me?”

“A couple.” He walked past me, headed in a different direction.

“Do you still know the way to them?”

“Please,” he said, turning his head to smirk at me. “I'm a man.”

I followed closely behind him, weaving around the trees. The deeper we walked into the woods, the darker it became and the more I wanted to head back. “Are you sure this is the way?” I asked, wrapping my arms around myself.

“What do you think, I'm leading you into the middle of nowhere to slit your throat?”

“That's so not funny, and I don't think that's what you're doing. I think you've gotten us lost. No man would ever admit to that, so I think you're taking us around in circles, hoping we'll eventually come across the cabin again.”

He sighed. “Just ahead you'll see a crappy, old shack. Josh and I found it years ago when we were looking for somewhere to play with our water pistols.”

“You needed shelter for that?”

“We needed a base. Every good military operation has a base.”

I grinned, imagining Blake as a child, running around and playing fantasy games. We started walking again, slower this time. “Quite the imagination you have.”

“Had,” he corrected. “Life screws you over eventually.”

“Pessimist.”

“Hopeless optimist.”

“How far does the river go?” I asked.

He shrugged. “How should I know? Far, I assume.”

“That's a lot of opportunity for someone to dump the evidence in the water. And a lot of forest too. Do you think they've hidden it all somewhere? The clothes, I mean.”

“No, they're probably doing their weekly shopping in them,” he replied dryly.

I narrowed my eyes. “Bastard.”

“The forest is huge. You could lose anything in there. The ground is covered in leaves and crap, so you could probably bury a lot in there too.”

“Great. We have no hope.” Finding clues seemed impossible. If Blake was right, and he knew this area better than me, the murderer could have already hidden the evidence anywhere in the miles of woodland. The police would need the murderer's clothes to match fibers to.

“Want to explain why we're doing this?” he asked, lifting his dark eyebrow at me. I knew what he was thinking and I couldn't disagree. This was stupid, beyond stupid, and a huge waste of my time.

“Because I have to do something, Blake!”

What else could I do? I'd never been the type of person to sit back and do nothing when people I cared about were in trouble.

He pointed ahead. “There you go.”

I frowned, but as I took another step, I could see the side of something wooden. “We're here?”

“No, I took you—”

“All right, thank you!” I rolled my eyes and muttered under my breath, “Sarcastic arse.”

Blake grinned wide, flashing his teeth. He was a little too good at shoving his emotions aside. I could do it well enough to function, but Blake could do it well enough to be himself.

We walked closer, and I stopped.
No way am I going in there.
The whole structure looked as if it was about to collapse. It looked like the type of shack you screamed for someone not to go near in a horror film.

“It's creepy,” I said as a cold shudder ripped through my body.

“It's an old shed, Mackenzie. What do you think it's gonna do? Bite you?”

I ignored him and nodded toward the door half hanging off the top hinge.

Blake's smile grew. “Ladies first.”

“Shut up and go.” I didn't understand how he could continuously make jokes when what we were doing was serious. And I hated that I didn't completely hate his humor. “Unless you're scared?”

He rolled his eyes. “Reverse psychology doesn't work on me. This is your crusade. You lead the way, detective.”

“Fine.” I stood taller, trying to fool myself into believing that I was braver than I felt. “But for the record, you have no balls at all,
princess
.” I wasn't sure what his reaction would be, whether he would continue the cocky attitude or bite back, but I didn't wait around to find out. I swallowed my dread and stepped into the run-down shed. Cobwebs plagued the top of the doorway, but the bottom half was clear, maybe from where someone had cleared it recently. I peered inside, but the dust-clad windows prevented much light from coming inside.

I looked over my shoulder and was met by an incredibly smug-looking Blake. “Want me to go first, sweets?” he asked.

“Is that a genuine offer?”

He bit his lip, pretending to think, even though we were both aware that he already knew the answer. He sighed. “Move out of the way.” Swiping at the remaining cobwebs with his hand, he stepped inside.

“What's in there?” I whispered.

“No one. No reason for you to whisper.”

I took a deep breath, gritting my teeth. “What's in there, Blake?” I hissed.

“Bugger all. Come in.”

He could have been lying, and I would walk in to see a skeleton or something, but for some reason, I trusted him. Blake drove me crazy with his attitude, but I knew he wouldn't put me in any danger. Well, not real danger at least. He would probably let me do something like walk into a room with a skeleton to scare the hell out of me.

I took a small step and was halfway through the door when the musty smell made my nose sting. Blake wiped the cracked glass with his hand. A shaft of light poured into the small room, giving enough light so we could see.