Chapter 6
The sedan’s tires crunched loudly over wet gravel as Clara navigated the narrow, overgrown driveway. Towering cedar and fir trees flanked both sides, their branches interlocking overhead to form a dense, natural tunnel that blocked out what little light remained in the overcast sky. At the end of the track sat the cabin: a single-story structure made of weathered cedar siding, its roof covered in green moss, blending almost seamlessly into the surrounding wilderness.
Clara put the car in park, the engine dying with a soft shudder. The silence that rushed in to fill the void was absolute, broken only by the steady patter of rain hitting the metal roof and the distant, rhythmic crash of ocean waves against the nearby cliffs.
"Well," Elena said quietly, exhaling a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. "It’s certainly isolated."
"Julian always loved his solitude," Clara observed, turning off the ignition and slipping the keys from the dash. She reached for her coat in the back seat, pulling on a dark wool trench coat before opening her door. The damp, salty air rushed into the car, carrying the sharp scent of cedar and decaying leaves.
Elena stepped out on the passenger side, pulling her gray cardigan tightly around herself as she shivered against the cold coastal wind. She looked up at the cabin. The windows were small, covered by faded curtains that blocked any view of the interior. A rusty iron padlock hung uselessly from a rusted hasp on the front door, unlocked—the lawyer’s firm must have sent an agent ahead to clear the legal entry, or perhaps Julian had left it unlatched intentionally.
"Stay close," Clara instructed softly, stepping carefully across the uneven stone pathway that led to the porch.
Elena followed closely behind, her boots squelching slightly in the wet mud. She kept her eyes scanning the treeline, an irrational part of her expecting Julian to step out from behind a trunk with that familiar, mocking smile. But the woods remained empty, save for the swaying branches and the gray mist creeping through the underbrush.
Clara reached out, her fingers wrapping around the brass knob of the front door. She turned it. With a dry, protesting groan, the latch gave way, and the door swung inward, releasing a wave of stale air that smelled of old paper, dust, and dried lavender.
They stepped over the threshold into darkness. Clara fumbled along the wall until her hand brushed against a plastic light switch. She flicked it up. With a buzzing flicker, an overhead bulb cast a yellowish, dim glow over a surprisingly orderly interior.
Unlike the exterior, which looked abandoned to the elements, the inside of the cabin was meticulously maintained. A heavy stone fireplace dominated the far wall, flanked by shelves crammed with paperbacks and neatly stacked firewood. In the center of the room stood a sturdy oak dining table, and resting squarely in the middle of that table was a medium-sized wooden box bound in leather straps.
"He was expecting us," Elena whispered, her voice echoing slightly in the small space. She walked slowly toward the table, her eyes locked on the leather-bound box. "Or at least, he was expecting someone."
"Or he left this for whoever cleaned out the property," Clara corrected, though her steps were hesitant as she approached the table. She reached out and touched the leather strap. It was dry, cold to the touch. There was no lock, only a simple brass clasp holding the lid in place.
"Should we open it?" Elena asked, her hand hovering just above the box.
May you like
Clara looked at her daughter, the dim yellow light casting deep shadows beneath both of their eyes. "We didn't drive three hours through the rain to stare at a box, Elena. Open it."
With a steady hand, Elena unlatched the clasp and lifted the lid.
