Category:

"Hello!" she called again before pushing the inside door open and stepping into the farm kitchen.

There was a dead man lying in the middle of the kitchen. Blood congealed on his back and the floor around him. He faced away from Cash. Across the room, a .30-30 Winchester deer rifle looked as if it had been thrown and lay where it landed, against the base of the kitchen cupboards. Empty shells were scattered on the floor by the body.

Cash took deep breaths to calm her body, which had started to tremble. She had not caused this carnage. This was not her fault. She looked at the man again. She noticed the linoleum underneath him and thought it must have been a Sears special because so many farm homes had the same flooring. If you looked closely, there were red and black dots that resembled Popeye's girlfriend, Olive Oyl. Cash felt a giggle rise in her chest and stuffed it back down. She quickly scanned the room and leaned forward slightly to peer into the living room. From what she could see, the shooter was not in the kitchen or the living room.

Cash didn't see or hear another person. But she could sense she wasn't alone. She called "Hello!" in what she hoped sounded like a normal, friendly tone. "Hello," as she moved into the living room. No one. There were two doors in the room. She opened one door and revealed a closet that held a different season's coats. A wooden shelf across the width of the closet held sewing supplies and kid board games, including a deck of cards and a cribbage board that sat on top of Candy Land. The second door she opened led upstairs.

As she took one step up the stairs, Cash called out again, "Hello," and started up. Some of the stairs creaked. If someone was up there, they would know how close she was getting. The top of the stairs was surrounded by a railing with balusters. With her head even with the upstairs floor, Cash looked straight ahead through the balusters into the bathroom. She could hear water dripping. No one was in there—unless they were lying flat, out of sight, in the claw-foot bathtub. Grabbing hold of the floorboards and pivoting around, Cash saw two bedrooms along a narrow hallway. In the first bedroom, all she could see was a window with its curtains pulled shut. In the other bedroom, the afternoon sun was shining through the window. She could see under an iron bed frame, its mattress sagging slightly on wire springs. Nothing under that bed but dust bunnies.

Cash pivoted back around and continued walking up the stairs. "I was out plowing and got thirsty. Thought I'd stop in and see if I could get a drink of water. Looks like there's been a pretty bad accident downstairs. I just want to make sure everyone is okay. You okay up here?"

The hardwood floor creaked as she walked toward the first bedroom. Cautiously, she peered around the corner before entering. The tingling sensation at the back of her neck and head intensified to where it felt like fireflies were flitting around inside her skull. All her senses told her that someone, living, was in this room. She did not want to find another body.

"Hello?" more softly this time. The bed was unmade. Sheets and blankets were thrown helter-skelter. A woman's housedress lay on the floor along with a slip and bra. One oak dresser stood, several drawers pulled open, none of them fully shut. The room was quiet. Too quiet. Cash backed out of the room and did a quick survey of the other bedroom. Nothing was out of place. It was a child's room. A girl's room.

Cash went back to the first bedroom and edged inside. She bent down onto her knees and looked under the bed. Back in the farthest corner, under the tall iron bed frame and wire bedsprings that held the mattress, a small body huddled. Big, brown, unblinking eyes looked out at Cash. Terrified, dull eyes. Cash had seen that thousand-yard stare on boys returning from Vietnam.