the show of logic and reasoning when it’d come to the new tenant, but there’d only been one little problem…
Not once had I ever reacted to anything on the other side of the camera the way I’d reacted to the man sitting forlornly at the kitchen table. Sure, I’d had that weird nervous energy before, like when I’d been shooting in an active war zone or I’d been photographing native tribes in places like Congo and West Papua, but it hadn’t been accompanied by the strange need for something… more.
Dismissing the unexplained and very unwelcome thoughts of the man in Birch Cabin, I pulled the truck away from the small house that had been home for the last couple of years. As always, pain leached into my heart as I took in the battered little structure.
"Not today," I murmured to myself. It was a promise I made myself every day. A promise to let go of the past and focus on the present.
I still hadn't managed to keep that promise. Not once in the two years since I'd moved back to Fisher Cove.
As I reversed the truck and then got it turned in the correct direction, I lowered my window and blew out a whistle. I couldn't help but smile when Brewer bolted out of the trees and ran at a breakneck speed toward the truck. Sunlight bounced off his glossy silver coat as he launched himself over the side of the truck into the bed. I got the truck moving and explored my surroundings as I made my way the few miles that separated the rental cabins from my house. With the new accumulation, there was a good three feet of snow on the ground in some places. Spring always came late to Fisher Cove and the new accumulation meant an even longer wait before the snow disappeared and new growth began to peek up from beneath the damp earth.
While it had been a tough winter in terms of weather, the cabins had been booked most of the season, so I’d been keeping up on the plowing of the access road that led to them. But with last night’s rough weather, the roads all around Fisher Cove would be a mess.
Not that there were that many roads to begin with.
But that also meant there weren’t a lot of plows. Well, none actually, except the one on my truck. The town’s single utility truck had broken down the previous year and there hadn’t been enough money in the budget to buy a new one. So while it wasn’t officially one of my responsibilities, I’d taken to plowing the main access road that ran through town along with a few of the smaller roads that led to Fisher Lake.
Since the asshole in Birch Cabin wasn’t going anywhere, I drove into town and began clearing the street as well as the various business parking lots. Because the storm had started with a mix of sleet and rain before turning over to snow, it took me a while to plow and salt everything.
Not to mention every resident I saw insisted on stopping me to complain about the weather as if it was something they hadn’t been dealing with every single year they’d lived in Fisher Cove.
By the time I reached the cabin known as Birch Cabin, it was nearing lunchtime. I'd already checked on the other two cabins on the adjoining lots. Both had lost power overnight. Since the cabins were unoccupied, I hadn't bothered starting the generator because the temperature during the day wasn't expected to stay below freezing. That meant the pipes weren't at risk.
Although all of the cabins were on the same power grid, I was expecting the scene at Birch Cabin to be different. While I didn't necessarily think it strange that there weren't any lights on, the fact that there was no exhaust coming from the duct on the side of the structure and no smoke rising from the chimney was unusual. While it hadn't been cold enough overnight to cause the interior of the cabin to near the freezing mark, it most definitely would've gotten very uncomfortable for Mr. Asshole. Even if the man had slept through the storm and the loss of power, surely when he'd woken up this morning, he would've noticed how cold it was.
I sighed as I reminded myself I was giving the man too much credit. Hell, for all I knew, he could've already turned tail and run. I hadn't seen a