He watched the shadows of tree branches dance across the ceiling every time the lightning blinked. It wasn't that long ago that he'd lay awake in bed, unable to sleep and worried about how he would pay his monthly bills, wondering which credit card he would take out a cash advance from this time. He had come such a long way since those sleepless nights. Now he worried that his good fortune- his windfall, as his father would have called it-could all disappear with one severe case of writer's block.
Sometimes he could hear his father's voice in the back of his head telling him, "What makes you think you deserve all this? You think you're something special? You think you're better than the rest of us?"
His father had been gone for almost five years, and yet he lived inside Andrew's head, in a tiny dark corner in the back, just enough of a presence to keep Andrew in line. To warn him when he dared to get too confident. To bring him back to earth when he dared to dream too big.
Andrew closed his eyes and tried to ignore the sudden tightness in his chest. He needed to think of something else. Or perhaps someone else. He tried to conjure up Erin 's image and how she made him feel when she smiled at him or laughed. She had a great laugh. He remembered-
A noise startled him and his eyes flew open. He stayed still, holding his breath and listening. It hadn't been thunder. That he was sure of. It sounded as though it had come from inside the cabin.
He waited and listened. Squinted into the dark. He had left a lamp on in the main room, but its dim light didn't reach the hallway to the bedrooms. He waited out the rumble of thunder then listened again.
Nothing.
Maybe his imagination was playing tricks on him. He probably shouldn't have had three beers when he was still taking pain meds. It also didn't help matters to be dreaming up a killer for his novel in the middle of a thunderstorm.
He heard it again. And this time he was almost certain it came from inside the cabin.
He tried to concentrate, tried to explain the sound away. It could simply be one of the open windows or a loose screen banging against the sill with the wind. There had to be a logical explanation.
That's when Andrew saw a shadow move along the wall of the hallway.
Someone was inside the cabin.
CHAPTER 29
2:23 a.m.
Andrew tried to stay calm. He could barely hear over the pounding of his heart. Could it be a park worker? Someone who'd came to warn him about the storm or check up on him? Was it a knock on the door that had wakened him? It made sense. A park worker would have a key.
Damn! Had he even locked the door? Of course he had. He was a city boy. It was instinctive.
Then his stomach did a somersault. He wasn't sure the flimsy screen door to the porch had been locked. All the back-and-forth he and Tommy had done to the grill. And he knew he had left the door between the porch and the cabin unlocked. He always left it like that so he wouldn't accidentally lock himself out. He was in the middle of the woods, for God's sake. Why would he need to lock doors?
The intruder had to be a park worker. Someone checking to make sure he was okay. Someone who didn't call out because he didn't want to disturb him. Someone who-
He heard a floorboard creak. His eyes darted around the small bedroom as he tried to lie still, tried not to make a sound. His suitcase sat on a chair in the corner. His mind frantically went through the contents. Damn it! Everything was airport security approved. He had even changed to fucking Gillette Super Blue disposable razors.
There was a shuffling sound. He couldn't tell if it was headed in his direction. Andrew slid out of bed and onto the floor. His injured shoulder banged against the bed rail. He bit down on his lip until the pain subsided. He crawled between the bed and wall to the closet. Straining his eyes to see, he waited for a flicker of lightning. Nothing inside the closet. Not even a broom. Then he remembered the wooden rod for hanging clothes. He had noticed it because he thought it was silly to think anyone would bring clothes that required hanging to a cabin in the middle of the woods.
He slid his body up the wall, stopped and listened. He reached into the closet, feeling for the rod. Please, please let it not be secured. His fingers wrapped around the smooth wooden rod. He stopped and listened. There was a soft rustle and then a crackle. He held his breath. Damn! He still couldn't hear over the pounding of his heart in his ears.
He leaned his cheek against the paneling and cocked his head toward the door to the bedroom. Another crackle, maybe a slow ripping sound. The intruder was going through his things. He tried to remember where he had left his wallet. Maybe whoever it was would take it and leave. Andrew lifted the rod out of its slots, and quietly, slowly he eased it up and out of the closed He got a better grip. He raised his good arm, testing to see how high he could lift it before the pain shot across his shoulder and stopped him. Not bad, though he wished he had taken more of the physical therapy his doctor had nagged him about.