In Strange Woods - Claire Cray Page 0,64
that he sensed something more to the story. But he didn’t try to dig, and smiled indulgently as James described Beau in giddy detail.
Later they slid into bed, kissing and touching and whispering over the crashing waves and the distant gales of laughter that sometimes drifted down the block from the tavern. Face to face, holding tight, they moved together so unhurriedly that James’s orgasm seemed to ease in like the tide.
Satisfied and safe at last, James rested his head on Hunter’s chest and surrendered to a deep, unhaunted sleep.
Chapter 26: On the Homestead
The next night James drove up the river. Somewhere along the way the car stereo stopped working, so he couldn’t play any music, which made the journey feel long, dark, and quietly dramatic. Plus, time seemed to have slowed down in a weird way since Domino’s confession. Overall, it was an eerie night, and he was humming with anticipation.
About halfway between Spruce and Hunter’s place, he turned onto a gravel road marked Chinook Loop and drove until his headlights caught the reflective numbers on a mailbox post. He pulled into the driveway, turned around a thick hedge of cedar trees, and parked in front of a large and remarkably handsome log cabin.
Before he could think too long about it, he got out of the car and zipped his leather jacket all the way up against the chill. It was colder now, and he’d layered a flannel shirt and a wool sweater over his tee shirt. Secondhand, of course.
The porch light was on. James crunched up the gravel walkway and climbed five steps onto the large wraparound deck. It smelled good, like woodsmoke. He could hear large dogs barking inside. He pressed the doorbell.
A minute later, a woman answered the door. She looked no more than a few years older than him, with long black hair, smooth bronze skin, and glamorous eye makeup.
“There you are,” she said. “I was wondering when you’d show up.” She beckoned him inside, her glossy black fingernails catching the light. “You’re obviously James. I’m Fawn. You want some dinner?”
“No, thanks.” James shut the door behind himself, glancing at the two German shepherds standing at attention, growling softly. “Nice dogs.”
“That’s Ivy, and that’s Chewy.” She snapped her fingers and pointed to her side, bringing both dogs to heel in a flash. “Say hello. Have a seat if you want. I just need a minute.”
“Sure.” James offered a cautious hand to the dogs, who sniffed and licked him for a second before losing interest and trotting off down the dim hallway.
The room seemed to have been collecting decor for longer than he or Fawn had been alive. There was an enormous stuffed elk head looming over the back wall, and several sizable antlers mounted throughout the room. A large old iron chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling, complete with faux white candles and flame-shaped bulbs that cast a soft, warm light.
Framed photos covered one section of the wall, and he wandered over to study them. Several were black and white or shades of sepia: people posing with giant trees, holding up huge fish by the riverside, waving out the windows of old Ford trucks.
One in particular caught his eye, a crisp black and white photo of a simple log cabin. Three young women were perched in a row on the top step of the porch, caught in a candid moment of laughter. Their clothing placed them sometime in the late 1960s or early 1970s, he guessed, and they were stylish in a way that was all their own. On the left was a blond with her hair tied in two thick ponytails, dressed in jeans, a pale collared shirt, and a checkered wool jacket. The young woman in the middle had on a long prairie dress and a big, blinding, gap-toothed smile, her long dark hair pinned back from her temples with barrettes. The one on the right looked inexplicably familiar, with high cheekbones, full lips, and dark, wavy hair bobbed to her chin. She was laughing hardest out of the three, her head tilted back and her eyes closed.
Fawn returned with her long hair braided over one shoulder, a thick red stocking cap over her head, and her slim body concealed in an old beat-up insulated body suit, half zipped.
“This picture’s amazing,” James said, his eyes going back to the photo. “Who are they?”
“It’s a cute one.” Fawn’s perfectly manicured finger indicated the woman in the middle. “That’s Deenie Gatlin, my aunt. The blond