The Acadia Killer

Chapter 10

Maybe it was my nerves rattling around in my body since my conversation with Krista. Maybe it was the impending solo visit from Blake. Whatever it was that was causing the upset in my stomach, I was beyond sick of it.

After chatting with Krista earlier in the day, I'd tried to treat it like any other day – continuing to edit photography and trying to plan out the remainder of my trip while figuring in precautions to avoid a certain someone who could be lurking behind any evergreen in the woods. I'd put on a brave face in the mirror, almost convinced myself I looked fine, and attempted to force my nerves to relax as the day went on – but who was I kidding? It wasn't exactly a cake walk to suppress the trauma of what I was dealing with, coupled with such a difficult request from Worldwide Magazine. There was a part of me that wanted to tell Krista Hall that her magazine wasn't worth the excess stress, but the logical side of my brain was screaming not to throw away a business opportunity I'd devoted half a year and thousands of dollars to achieving. Surely, I could think up a compromise that she'd be satisfied with. I had no flying clue what that could be, but I was determined to find a way to make it a win for both of us – one that absolved me of any additional anxiety.

When I stepped out of the shower around four-thirty, the rush of chilly air that hit me seemed to awaken my senses for the first time. It was as if my body had been mostly asleep all day while my brain had been on overdrive, and my muscles were just starting to wake up. I checked the time on my phone and hurried to dry off, knowing Blake would be over shortly.

I'd decided after the morning I'd had, followed by a few solid hours of stressing over the call with Krista, a shower wouldn't solve everything, but it'd certainly boost my serotonin enough to keep me from feeling like a total zombie. The playlist my phone had been going through consisted of both calming and cheerful music, and I'd taken my sweet time in the shower, shaving my legs and pampering myself in hopes of feeling better.

As I lathered lotion on my legs, a knock at the door downstairs sent a shot of cold up my spine. I checked my phone again to see that it was 4:39. It was too early for Blake to be here. Who the hell would be at the door? It wasn't Michelle because she had a key and would just let herself in. Were the police back? Had something else happened?

Another knock sounded as I rushed to throw on underwear and a robe. I made a mental note to thank Michelle for leaving a plush robe in the bathroom. It was a lifesaver in a hurry.

Grabbing my phone on my way to see who was at the door, I tiptoed down the stairs, thankful that the curtains were pulled closed so no one could see me, and I retrieved the fireplace poker.

"Who is it?" I called out, my hand clenching the handle of the poker so tightly my knuckles were turning white.

I could see the figure of a man through the curtains, but I couldn't make out any features. I could tell by his build though, it wasn't Blake.

"My name is Steve. I live down the road," came the gruff voice of my visitor.

Something didn't feel right about "Steve." I inched across the kitchen to one of the windows that looked out at the driveway. I didn't see a vehicle anywhere. If Steve really was a neighbor down the road, he had to have walked a pretty far distance, which made zero sense to me, considering the nearest house I'd seen to Michelle's was a good half mile away. Why wouldn't you drive down at that distance?

I quickly dialed Michelle's number and crouched down on the floor behind the kitchen island. This had become a regular hiding spot and I was getting sick of it. While I waited for Michelle to answer, I sent Blake a text: There's some guy at my door. I think it might be him.

"Hey, Kenz," Michelle's cheerful voice answered.

"Do you have a neighbor named Steve?" I asked hurriedly as yet another knock sounded at the door, only this time it was more forceful.