Passions Read online

  “Your beginning was acceptable. However, the descriptions were obscure, lacking flair that adequately paints the scene. You should consider revising. I am interested to see if Mr. Johnson will pursue Miss Alleia after such a rude introduction. Also, there are several spelling errors that will need your attention during the final editing. Because of the sheer number of mistakes, it would be more efficient to correct them now, rather than later.”

  A critique? The note was critiquing her story? Chloe snatched at the mouse to activate her laptop screen. The open document of her story appeared at the exact place she had left it the night before.

  Who left the note? Who was in my house?

  Glancing back down to the notepad, she saw that they didn’t sign the bottom.

  Chloe checked the front door and found the knob was still locked. The same was true for the back door in the kitchen.

  She ran and checked her purse. Credit cards, keys, driver’s license and checks were all still there, not even her pack of gum or expired library card were missing. There were no televisions in the house and the only thing of any value was the laptop, which they obviously didn’t take.

  None of the windows looked to be damaged or even opened. She checked the driveway and saw the car was still parked there. And from what she could tell, it hadn’t been disturbed, either.

  The stench of burnt oil snapped her out of her frenzy long enough to take the pan off of the stove. Suddenly, she had no appetite.

  Chloe sat down in the chair and read the critique again. Her first initial reaction was pure panic that someone had broken into her home. But, there was absolutely no sign of such a thing. She hadn’t checked the upstairs yet, but she had the feeling that she would find nothing there, either. She was a light sleeper, and if someone had decided to sneak in through an upstairs window, she would have heard it.

  This childhood place that she had loved for years, the place she thought she would have been safest from the outside world, had been violated. Someone had tread upon her sacred ground, and there was nothing she could do about it. All she wanted was a little solitude, time to regroup and start on this new life she had dreamed of. But now, as she looked around, all she could feel was the pounding of her terrified heart screaming out for peace and answers.

  This feeling of helplessness was exactly what she had wanted to escape; the feeling that maybe, even now, some hungry predator was watching her, waiting for a chance to steal her money, her possessions, her life, and her peace. She had already had so much taken from her in the last few months. Why else did she possibly have left that they could possibly want?

  Her second thought was about the note itself. Did they really read what she had written so far? So the beginning was fine, but there were all these other errors to fix? She felt as if she had already submitted her work to a publisher and had it torn to pieces. But, whoever it was had voiced their interest in the story, so she couldn’t have been doing too badly.

  Chloe chided herself that she would even care about the opinions of this trespasser. She should call the police and get a security system set up for her home. She should panic at the very thought of a stranger walking through her home while she slept, rummaging through her laptop and God only knew what else.

  She knew one thing; sitting here and fretting was not the way to handle this situation. She had to act, but she also knew that she couldn’t call the police. What was she supposed to say? Someone had broken into her home and left a mysterious note about her manuscript, but there was nothing stolen and no sign that someone had broken in at all. They’d think she was a nutcase. An officer would probably come up to humor her and poke around, but they wouldn’t do more than that.

  Getting a security system was out of the question. There probably wasn’t a security system provider for miles, they would charge her an arm and a leg to have one installed. She wasn’t even sure a service vehicle could make it up the mountain.

  After taking a quick survey of the windows and rooms upstairs, she discovered that nothing had been touched, and the windows were still intact. Chloe put the eggs back in their carton, turned the stove off, and made her first cup of coffee to go, her hands trembling the entire time. It was a shock to her that she could pour her coffee without spilling it all over the counter.

  She had seen a hardware store in town and it would be a sorry excuse for a store if they didn’t have locks. Leaving the note where it was, she dressed in a pair of comfortable jeans and long-sleeved, navy blue shirt, grabbed her purse and headed out the door with her mug in hand.

  Chloe inspected the outside of the house and found nothing to support her fears that someone had broken into her home without her knowledge. Below the house was what she perceived as decorative stone walls to conceal the support beams so the house could sit so precariously on the side of the hill.

  Now, more than ever, she wished she could read the ground like a hunter or trapper could. She’d be able to tell if anyone had wandered around outside the house by the broken twigs or disturbed grass.

  Chloe slid into her car and pulled away from the cabin, sipping her scalding coffee. She realized a little too late that she had completely forgotten to put sugar and cream in with her morning wake-up juice, but she wouldn’t bother with that now.

  Taking one last glance at the cabin in the rearview mirror, she breathed a quick prayer that it would be safe against mountain prowlers and sped on into Carter Lake.

  Chloe held two different lock packs in her hands, her eyes scanning over the features and comparing them. She’d spent nearly half an hour in the hardware store looking for these locks, and now she couldn’t make heads or tails of them. One seemed just as good as the other.

  Anyone peeking down the aisle might have thought she was indecisive, but that wasn’t the case. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts and each one fought for dominance. She was frazzled, to say the least.

  The realization that she may be in real danger of having everything stolen out from under her was upsetting alone. But then, the note was even more disturbing. Out of all the things that this person could have done in her home, they decided to leave her a note about her manuscript.

  They could have stolen the couch, used her toothbrush or drank half of the gallon of milk in the fridge. But instead, they took the time to read through the few pages she had written the night before and gave her notes. What sort of person did that?

  She dropped the lock sets into her hand basket, joining the several other locks she had already picked out for her windows, and made her way up to the front counter.

  The portly older man with graying hair gave her a warm smile that wrinkled the creases around his eyes. Judging by his paint-stained overalls, he was a perfect fit for this hardware store. Chloe returned the smile and placed her purchases on the counter.

  “Good mornin’, ma’am. Haven’t seen yer face around here before.” His voice retained a heavy country accent that forced Chloe to listen carefully to every word as they slurred together a bit.

  “Yeah, I just moved here.”

  “Well, that’s great. We could use some fresh blood around here.” He began keying in the items into his old register system with a raised eyebrow. “Ya sure are gettin’ a lot of locks.”

  Your observations skills are extraordinary, sir. Chloe smiled and nodded. “Yeah, the ones in my house are getting old and need replacing.”

  She knew well that those locks couldn’t have been more than a few years old. The real estate company had kept them in wonderful condition. But the little lie wouldn’t hurt. Otherwise, she’d have to go into the whole story, and that was something she didn’t quite fully grasp yet.

  “Well, ya got some good stuff here. But ya know, ya may not need a door chain if ya live up on the mountain. No one prowlin’ around up there lookin’ fer stuff to steal.”

  This would have been the perfect moment to tell him that he was wrong and about what happened this morning. But Chloe held her tongue. There was no point in t
elling him things that were none of his business. Besides, he’d probably just laugh.

  “Ya gonna need help installin’ these locks? I could come up there and put ‘em in fer ya.”

  Chloe could have taken his offer entirely the wrong way, inferring that she was incapable of following the instructions that came with the locks. She politely shook her head. “That won’t be necessary. I’ve installed locks before. They aren’t that hard.” Another lie.

  “Will ya be needin’ the tools to install ‘em?”

  Now that she thought about it, Chloe was painfully aware that she didn’t own a single screwdriver. In the city, she only needed to call the repairman, and he brought his own tools to fix whatever problem she had. And when the repairman wasn’t available, Brent had his set of tools as well.

  “You know what, I think I do. I don’t recall unpacking my drill.”

  The clerk was more than happy to go grab one off the rack. For a heavy-set man, he promptly came back to the register with everything she would need.

  Chloe couldn’t help but feel foolish for the few fibs she had told him. But she was determined not to appear the helpless maiden that she was.

  He pronounced the grand total, and Chloe handed him her credit card.

  “Oh, sorry, ma’am. We don’t take cards. Ole’ machine won’t read ‘em.”

  Chloe sighed and fished out her checkbook from her purse. After filling out the blank spaces, she glanced up and saw the black Wrangler jeep sitting in the parking lot. It wasn’t new, but it appeared to be in good condition with a dark gray canvas back still intact. The huge wheels were daunting and the whole vehicle itself was so starkly different than her sleek silver car parked beside it. But despite the sharp angles and high suspension, the red for sale sign made the jeep more attractive by the minute.

  “Who’s selling that jeep?” she asked as she tore the check out and handed it to the clerk.

  He glanced over his shoulder as if he had completely forgotten that there was a jeep sitting in front of his store at all. He turned back and gave her that same jovial smile. “I am, ma’am.”

  “Does it run ok?”

  The man snorted a laugh. “Does it run ok? Been runnin’ without a problem fer years. You lookin’ ta buy?”

  “Probably. My car is great, but I need something that can make those turns up the mountain a little easier.”

  He gave a deep belly laugh and nodded as he processed the check into his register. “I hear ya. Well, if yer interested, let me know. I can work out a nice deal fer ya.”

  Chloe smiled and shook his hand after exchanging phone numbers. The man’s name, almost predictably, was Bobby; a good ole’ country boy name. It was going to take some time for Chloe to adjust to this kind of life.

  She left the hardware store and used the ride going back up to her cabin to think. Something that never occurred to her was that perhaps someone from the real-estate company left the note.

  It was completely possible that the person had entered her new home, poked around to make sure things were ok and then, upon seeing her writing, took the time to read it and leave a note. But then again, what was a real estate agent doing prowling around the cabin in the middle of the night? Surely they would have seen the lights were all off and decided that now was not a good time to visit.

  Maybe they knocked and when she didn’t answer, they decided to let themselves in. But wouldn’t they have the professional courtesy to call her ahead of time? Maybe she gave them her number but they lost it or wrote it down incorrectly when she dictated it over the phone.

  Chloe groaned, wishing that she had the answers. But wishing wasn’t enough.

  She pulled up to the cabin, and, from the safety of her car, inspected the outside and surrounding woods. Finding no other trace of human life, she pulled out her phone and dialed the real-estate company.

  The secretary answered in her usual sharp voice.

  “Hi, my name is Chloe Kaspin. I just took residency in the cabin up on the mountain near Carter Lake.”

  “Oh, yes ma’am. I remember you. How are you liking the cabin?” she asked.

  Chloe tried her best to tolerate the small talk. “It’s great. But I had a question. Has anyone from your office been up here recently? Maybe a repairman or inspector?”

  “Oh, um…” the young girl seemed lost and Chloe could imagine her swiveling in her desk chair looking for someone who could help. “Let me put you on hold real quick, and I’ll ask around. Did you get a call saying that someone was supposed to stop by?”

  “No, and that’s the weird thing. But I thought that maybe I gave you the wrong number.”

  “Oh, ok. Yeah, let me put you on hold and I’ll ask around, ok? Just a second.”

  Chloe heard the click, and silence stretched over the line. She tapped her thumb on the steering wheel anxiously as she waited for the secretary. It didn’t take long before she returned and assured Chloe that no one had been out to her home, and no work orders were issued for the cabin to any of their technicians.

  Another dead end. If it wasn’t the real-estate company that came in last night, it had to be an intruder. This was the last thing she needed in her new life. It was another stressor and she was already having a hard time coping. She’d heard stories of burglaries happening in Atlanta all the time, but they never happened to her.

  Angling out of the car with her hardware store purchase, she walked up to the front porch and listened. After peeking through the windows and satisfying herself that no one was currently in the home, she went inside and set to the task of installing the new locks.

  Nearly three hours later, the new doorknobs, deadbolts and door bars were mounted to the best of her limited abilities. She had even purchased swivel locks for the old windows. No one was going to get in that house without her knowing it.

  While she fixed herself a sizable lunch, half starving since she hadn’t taken the time to eat breakfast that morning, the mysterious note caught her eye once more.

  Chloe let her eyes skim over the suggestions again as she bit into her turkey sandwich, already contemplating the changes she would need to make to the manuscript to accommodate this intruder's critique.

  Part of her wanted to wad up the note and burn it. It was another reminder of what had happened the night before. But the other part of her wanted to savor the note. It was the first real piece of advice she had ever received regarding her writing. It gave her hope that perhaps her calling really was to become a writer.

  Her imagination wandered as she began to imagine who this burglar was. Obviously, they were not illiterate, judging by the eloquent wording of the letter. And they had a solid grasp of literary concepts of what was good storytelling and what wasn’t. But was it a woman? A man? Were they in her house to steal something and got distracted by the writing? Why were they there at all?

  Chloe sat on the couch, note in hand, and read it a hundred times before finally setting it down and returning to her computer. She’d apply the changes and continue. With luck, the new locks would keep out any other unwanted literary critics.

  Chapter 3

  Chloe awoke late the next morning, after spending half the night writing. Her lower back felt sore from hunching over her laptop keyboard, and her neck was still stiff. Regardless, she slid out of bed with her feet already clad in warm wool. But despite this extra measure towards comfort, the air inside the cabin was chillier than she had expected.

  Having not taken the time to put away her things yet, Chloe hobbled towards a suitcase in the corner of the room and pulled out a plush cream-colored robe that she’d owned for many years. It was a birthday gift from her parents when she was a teenager. The hem of the garment used to drag the ground, but now in her adult years, it tickled the back of her calves. Wrapping it around her shoulders, she ran her fingers over the velvety fabric.

  She took a quick survey of her belongings, making sure that everything was accounted for, and then turned to go downstairs. Her heavy footfalls on
the treads were the only sound in the house that morning. Not even the usual warbling of the wood thrushes and blue jays could be heard twittering outside.

  Glancing towards the living room windows, she saw the sun was already pretty high in the sky. It was no longer time for breakfast, but for lunch. But, regardless of the time, she would have her cup of coffee. Because despite sleeping in, she knew there was a long day ahead of her, filled with plans to write and maybe go look for that puppy she was thinking about the previous morning.

  Her eyes shifted towards her desk on her way to the kitchen, and her heart jumped against her ribcage as she saw more writing on her notepad.

  Another letter. This one was longer.

  Chloe was jolted awake once more, just as she had been the day before. The disquieting thought rammed through her sleepy head that the locks hadn’t worked. Without taking the time yet to read the letter, she checked the windows and the doors. Again, there was no sign of forced entry.

  Chloe’s eyebrows furrowed as she thought it over. With the locks on the two doors, there was no way the intruder could have broken in, written that note, and then returned the locks to their original positions on their way out. The same went for the windows. How were they getting inside?

  She sighed heavily and ran a set of long nails through her dark wavy hair, snagging on a few tangles at the back of her head. There was nothing she could do about it now. Perhaps there was nothing she could do to prevent this from happening time and time again.

  Shuffling to her desk, she sat down and read the perfect cursive writing, feeling mixed emotions as her eyes followed the words.

  I thought you would never go to sleep. I do not appreciate waiting. Next time, do us both a favor and get to sleep at an earlier time.

  Chloe’s jaw dropped. Had they been watching her the whole night? They knew when she was still up writing? A cold chill ran up her spine at the thought of someone spying on her. Wrapping the robe around her chest a little tighter, she continued.