In the Winter Woods by Isabelle Adler

Author:Isabelle Adler [Adler, Isabelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: NineStar Press, LGBTQIA+, Contemporary, Romance, Gay, bi, seasonal/holiday, Christmas, Vermont, writer, law enforcement, Crime, crime procedure, Mystery, small town, maple syrup
Publisher: NineStar Press, LLC
Published: 2020-12-15T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

I jumped, fumbled, and grabbed the phone before it hit the floor.

Logan stood in the entrance, eying me suspiciously, a very sharp-looking chisel in one hand. I swallowed and offered him a smile that was probably more shaky than friendly. How long had he been standing there, and how much had he heard?

“Just my sister checking up on me,” I said. “She’s worried about me being here all alone. Older siblings can be so protective.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Logan said. “I need to clean the frame from the inside.”

“Sure.” I waved vaguely in the direction of the study. I took a step back and bumped into the edge of the counter. “Whatever you need.”

He hesitated for a moment but then went over to the window and began scraping the channels around the empty pane. Keeping him in my sight, I edged closer to the utensil drawer where the kitchen knives were kept.

“I hope the window isn’t giving you too much trouble,” I said, hoping my voice sounded steady. “The wood must be rotten, with all the moisture coming from the lake.”

“These are actually in good condition,” he said, his back turned. “Looks like the cabin is build out of solid maple.”

I made a sound of assent, trying to calculate how long it would take Curtis to get here. He did say not to ask Logan any more questions, presumably as to not provoke him into doing anything rash. But I had to stall him for at least twenty minutes, and I didn’t know how long it’d take him to finish the repairs.

“Have you ever done any work on these cabins?” I asked, aiming for disinterested nonchalance. I leaned on the counter with my hands behind my back, clutching the handle of the utensil drawer. “Maybe Porter’s cottage?”

Logan paused his work and glanced at me over his shoulder. It was all I could do not to panic and reach for the knife, but somehow, I forced myself to remain motionless and keep my expression suitably bland.

“I wouldn’t have worked for Porter, not after what he was doing to derail Hailey’s family business,” he said. “Besides, not like he would’ve let me take a hammer to his house. He’d rather live with a busted gable than allow the likes of me anywhere near it.”

“Logan,” I said before the rational part of my brain could stop me. “That gable was damaged during the storm on Tuesday. The same evening Porter was killed. If you hadn’t been there on that night or since…how did you know about it?”

Logan’s eyes widened in alarm. He straightened, his chisel in hand, and that was when I knew I’d made a terrible mistake.

Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut, like Curtis had asked me to?

The images of him arriving to discover my dead body with a chisel sticking out of my chest flashed through my head.

I yanked open the utensil drawer and grabbed the largest kitchen knife in it.

“Stay back,” I told Logan, pointing the knife in his direction.

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