car outside the previous day, but Richie Rich most certainly could have been dropped off.
I silently cursed the asshole for leaving without the courtesy of a phone call to let me know so I could've taken my time getting out to the cabin to clear the road…
My condemnation instantly stopped at the same time that I put my foot on the brake and stared at the fresh powder in front of me. There was no sign of tire tracks. Even if the guy had been picked up the night before, there would've been some kind of proof of tires having traveled over the driveway.
As I put my foot back on the gas, my belly dropped out just a little bit. Logically, I knew that even if the guy was still here, he wasn't in any real danger. If anything, he'd just be spitting mad that he’d had to suffer through a few hours without heat. But something about the sight of the lifeless cabin had me accelerating just a little bit faster. I couldn't help but think about the guy who'd been slightly hunched over the kitchen table staring at the phone in his hands. There had been something painfully familiar about his frame. No, I hadn't recognized him or anything, but in those few seconds before he’d opened his mouth to tell me to get lost, I’d felt a strange sense of kinship with him. After all, there’d been many nights when I’d sat at my own kitchen table staring at nothing in particular.
I told myself I was reading way too much into the situation and the man himself, but that didn't stop me from jumping out of the truck and trotting up to the side door. Not caring about the asshole's insistence on privacy the day before, I began knocking heavily on the door. "Mister—" I began before realizing I'd never bothered to look at the man's name on the contract that Parnell had sent me. If I’d been forced to interact with the man, I would've made the effort to know his name. But he'd made that unnecessary the day before. "Mister," I called as I knocked again. "It's the caretaker. It looks like you might have had some trouble with the generator. Would you like me to get it started for you?"
My question was met with stark silence. Even the woods around me were quiet and I wondered if that was a bad sign. Jesus, what if the guy had up and died on me? I shouldn't have been bothered by that since I didn't know the guy from Adam, but I found myself pounding heavily on the door, rattling it in its frame. "Sir, please open the door or I'll need to let myself in!" I shouted.
Still no answer. I jammed my hand into my pocket and frantically searched for the keys. I told myself my fingers were shaking as I put the key in the door because I was worried about dealing with an investigation by the cops, as well as having to explain to Parnell how his new tenant had ended up biting the dust within less than twenty-four hours of moving into the cabin. But when I threw open the door, neither of those things were on my mind. My eyes immediately went to the table as if expecting to find the man still sitting there. The table was empty, but the kitchen looked anything but untouched. The countertops were a mess. They weren’t covered in food or dishes, but most of the appliances and knickknacks that were on the counters were askew. Not knocked over, just pushed around. Like someone had been trying to look for something behind or beneath them.
I stepped into the cabin and cursed out loud when the biting cold hit me. It had to be in the mid-forties at best. Which meant the cabin had probably lost power within hours of me leaving. I still didn't think it possible that the man could've died from exposure, but I was definitely more nervous now than I'd been when I'd arrived. "Sir?" I called as I left the kitchen and made my way to the living room. Brewer suddenly darted past me. The guy hadn't seemed overly fond of dogs the day before, but that fact seemed irrelevant at the moment. When Brewer suddenly began barking and whining a few seconds later, I quickened my pace.
I found the man on the couch in the living room. Without Brewer standing