Chapter 8
The SUV bounced down the unpaved, muddy driveway, its headlights cutting through the swirling coastal fog to illuminate a weathered wooden cabin standing bravely against the crashing waves below. The property was eerily silent, devoid of any welcoming lights or signs of life, save for a single plume of pale smoke rising lazily from the stone chimney. David parked the vehicle, cutting the engine, and the sudden quietness of the wilderness rushed in to fill the cabin of the car. Claire turned around to check on Lily, who was waking up from her nap, blinking sleepily and clutching the doll with the purple bow as if it were her anchor to reality. David stepped out into the damp, salty air, his boots crunching on the gravel as he walked up to the front porch to knock firmly on the heavy oak door. There was no answer, only the hollow echo of his knuckles striking the wood and the distant sound of seagulls crying out over the dark ocean. Claire unbuckled Lily, scooped her up into her arms, and carried her across the yard, her eyes scanning the dark windows for any movement. Without thinking, Claire reached into her pocket, pulled out the heavy brass key Allison had hidden inside the doll, and tried it in the heavy front door lock. With a satisfying, mechanical click, the bolt slid back, and the door swung inward on rusted hinges, welcoming them into a shadowy interior smelling of old paper, dried lavender, and beeswax. The inside of the cabin was remarkably tidy, yet it was clear that someone had left in a tremendous hurry, leaving half-finished paintings on easels and open books scattered across every available surface. They had found Allison's sanctuary, but Allison herself was nowhere to be found.
