The Missing Widow by Davis L. G

Author:Davis, L. G. [Davis, L. G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller, Suspense
ISBN: 9781803146744
Amazon: B0BBXZ6W1D
Goodreads: 62240771
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2022-10-18T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 19

The doorbell rings. I drop the wooden spoon into the pan and switch off the stove, putting the scrambled eggs on hold. Nobody ever comes here. We don’t even get any post delivered. Could it be the police? Is my time up?

Pulling myself together, I walk over to the door, telling myself that I’m panicking over nothing. Why assume the worst?

“Who is it, Mommy?” Clark asks from the kitchen table, and when there’s a knock on the backdoor, he jumps a little. I guess he’s picking up on my anxiety.

“Zoe,” a woman calls from the other side, “are you in there?”

My shoulders sink with relief. It’s Ruth. Before I can open the door, Clark runs to it and pulls it open, throwing himself into her arms.

“Hello, Zoe.” Ruth glances around the kitchen curiously. “Why are the blinds closed on such a bright morning?”

“Oh, it was too bright,” I lie.

“No, it wasn’t,” Clark cuts in and I cringe inwardly.

Ruth looks at me, but she says nothing. She knows who the liar is. The truth is that I can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching me from the woods. It’s beautiful here, but we’re so remote, so alone, and increasingly the shadowy branch movements frighten me even when I try to ignore them. I’ve grown to hate the noises I so often hear in the night: the foxes screeching, the owls crying out to one another, the wind stirring through the leaves. Sometimes it feels like the trees are closing in on me, and the mountains behind them, trapping me and draining the air from my lungs. I never keep the blinds open anymore.

But when Clark sits back down, I open them, just to allay Ruth’s curiosity. It feels less frightening when I’m not alone with Clark, anyway.

“We didn’t expect you to drop by,” I say to her. “What a lovely surprise.”

In the entire time we have been staying at the cabin, she’s only visited once. We’ve always gone to her place, even though sometimes I’d have been grateful for the companionship here.

“I’m sorry to show up unannounced. I should have called to let you know.” She’s smoothing down her dress, a beautiful purple one with rose petals and pleats. It’s her favorite, the last gift she got from her husband the Christmas before he died. She wears it at least once a week. “I came to check up on you. I baked a pie.” We both look down at her empty hands and she smiles nervously. “I guess old age is catching up with me. I forgot it at the house.”

“Well, I’m sure it’s delicious, thank you so much anyway.” I chew my lip. “It’s strange, I didn’t hear your car.”

“Oh, I came with my bicycle. When my husband was alive, we often rode together.”

“Well, we’re glad to have you here. Let me make us some coffee. We were just going to have breakfast; would you like some?”

Ruth says she’s already eaten, and she sits at the kitchen table, admiring the fresh blue flowers I picked outside.

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