I cover my face with my hands.
“I am so sorry,” I say. “I sound like a lunatic. I thought you were flirting with me. Um, if you could bring me my check, I’m just going to slink out into the darkness and try to disappear.”
He laughs. “You don’t sound like a lunatic. I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of indecent proposals at bars. I don’t blame you for being a little bit cautious. There’s no check.”
He ducks his head slightly closer to mine as he takes my empty dessert plate. “And that is me flirting with you.”
Chapter Five
I hang around the bar with the bartenders and the lingering customers as Jake starts his rounds of bringing people home. I agreed to his ride, but I'll be the last of the night. I don't mind. Sitting here looking out over the people gives me the opportunity to start getting a feel for Feathered Nest and those who live here.
I was fully anticipating the uncertainty at my arrival. People always think of the inhabitants of small Southern towns being hospitable and welcoming. But there's a tremendous difference between hospitality toward guests and visitors, and openly trusting and welcoming those who may linger around. Especially for people who have grown up in very small, isolated towns like this one, new people are reason to be suspicious. If you can't connect at least a few dots and prove some sort of link to the area, you don't belong.
The backstory I rambled out to the police chief and to Jake gave me a fake relative in a nearby town, but that's enough to give me credibility. I'm going to have to ease into their existence and earn their trust. That starts with learning about them and the way of life in the town. I'm drawn into watching the conversations unfolding and the slivers of life happening in all corners of the bar. Couples stare at each other, seeming to have lost all awareness of the rest of the world around them. New couples are at the brink of forming between people paired up on the dance floor swaying, even though the music volume has been turned down to nearly inaudible in preparation for closing. People sit alone, decompressing from their day, longing for someone, or enjoying time on their own, thinking of what to do next. Friends carry on like they have the rest of the night even though last call was half an hour ago, and soon the bar will close.
I'm so drawn into watching them I barely even notice when that Jake gets back. He steps up beside me, and I jump slightly.
“Sorry,” he says. “I didn't mean to startle you.”
“It's fine. I'm not usually so jumpy,” I tell him.
“Nobody can blame you. When your welcoming committee to a new town consists of a dead body, people are going to give you a little bit of leeway when it comes to jangly nerves. Are you ready to get going?”
“Absolutely.”
Jake reaches out, so his hand hovers a few inches away from my back as I get down from the stool. He uses the presence of that hand, not touching me, but right there, close enough that I can sense it, to guide me out of the bar and to a car waiting at the curb. He walks around the front of the car to the passenger seat with me. He opens the door, holding it for me as I climb inside. The sharply cold air coming from outside follows me into the car, and I shiver.
“Don't worry,” he says as he gets behind the wheel and notices my shaking. “The heat gets going fast.”
“Thank you,” I tell him as he turns the engine over, and we start toward the cabin. “I really appreciate this.”
“Not a problem. It'll make me feel better to know you got back safely. You've only been here a day so you can't know the town well, yet. Rattlesnake Point is a little bit out there. It would be easy to get lost trying to make your way through those woods at night.”
“I'm sure it would be,” I agree. We fall silent for a few seconds before I speak again. “So, giving people rides home is a normal thing for you?”
He nods without looking at me. “I've always given the occasional ride here and there to people who needed it, but over the last few months, it's become a much more regular thing.”
“Why is that?” I ask.
That makes him glance my way for a few seconds before he looks back through the windshield.
“You mean, you don't know?”
“I don't know what?”
“I thought everybody knew about Feathered Nest and what's been going on around here. But I guess that only makes sense. Why would you agree to come out here when you're looking for something calm if you did know?” he asks, almost to himself.
“You lost me somewhere,” I frown. Of course I know, I just need to keep up the act.
“Oh, I'm sorry. Now I'm the one who sounds like a lunatic. It's just… Feathered Nest has built up its own reputation recently.”
“Why?”
He hesitates, not seeming to want to go any further.
“Because of the disappearances,” he tells me.
“What disappearances?” I ask, readying myself to absorb as much information as he'll give me.
“I don't want to talk about them tonight. You're about to go into a cabin in just about the middle of nowhere completely by yourself. I don't want to scare you.”
“But I want to know,” I insist.
He looks at me again, and a hint of a smile plays at his lips.
“You sure are persistent. You know that?” he asks.
“I might have been told a time or two,” I grin.
“Well, I'll tell you what. I'm not going to get into it tonight before you go to bed. But if you'll meet me for breakfast in the morning, I'll tell you everything.”
“Is this another one of those deals like me drinking a beer and telling you about my brush with the law?” I ask.
“That worked out well for me,” he shrugs. “I figured I might as well try it again.”
“Where should we meet?”
“Mary Belle's. It's a little place on Main Street. Can't miss it. Has the best breakfast in town.”
“I'll meet you there at 7:30,” I say.
“Sounds good to me,” Jake nods. The car crunches along the drive up the road. There are several cabins out here, but each one is so remote from one another that mine might as well be the only one around for miles. The cabin I’m in is the closest one to the lake.
“Which one are you?” Jake asks, keeping his eyes peeled in the darkness as we continue on.
“Number 13,” I say. “Very last one.”
Finally, we get to the very end of the road. He stops in the glow of the light at the side of the porch.
“Thank you, again. I'll see you in the morning,” I tell him.
I climb out of the car and walk up the steps onto the porch. Ice gleams on the wooden boards where someone rinsed away the signs of blood. Jake is still sitting in his car watching me, waiting for me to get inside, so I don't hesitate long. Unlocking the cabin door, I step inside and turn back to wave goodbye to him. He waves and starts backing out of the driveway as I shut the door and lock it.
What a day. Despite everything running through my brain, I can’t stay awake for one more minute. I try my best to put it all aside and collapse onto the bed.
The next morning I'm up before the sun doing a final read-through of the notes Creagan gave me before I came here. When the disappearances first started, the police department tried to launch an investigation and look into it. But they weren't really prepared for a case like that. People around here don't just disappear. There's the occasional runaway or someone who gets mad at their spouse and stalks out for a few days, but they always come back. This is the first time in recent memory people were vanishing and just not returning. The more people who disappeared, the harder it was for the department. They didn't know what to do or how to follow the clues left in each circumstance.