Standing very still, she closed her eyes again and focused her hearing, searching for even the quietest of sounds. A breath. A whisper. She heard nothing.
“Clear.”
It felt premature to take that as a good sign, but relief washed over her when she detected no odor inside the house beyond the musty scent of abandonment. As far as she could tell, death hadn’t fouled the place.
One by one, they searched the rooms, Mackenna pausing occasionally to listen for anything or anyone that shouldn’t be there. Closets had been stripped bare. Blankets and pillows had been pulled from the beds. Both bathrooms had been pillaged for supplies. In the kitchen, she found a half-empty bottle of dish soap under the sink, but the pantry and cabinets stood completely barren.
A Christmas tree still perched in the corner of the living room, a reminder of happier, simpler times. The lights no longer twinkled, and a layer of dust had settled over the colorful bulbs, but it seemed even Raiders couldn’t bring themselves to destroy it.
Mackenna recognized it as another clue. “I think Jess left pretty soon after I disappeared.”
Cade looked skeptical. “What makes you say that.”
“The tree is still up.”
“Okay,” he said slowly, “but even if she had left in January, we have no way of knowing where she went.”
Maybe not, but it meant she hadn’t died from the virus. It meant there could be a chance she was still alive. “She might have gone to Olympus, to the safe haven.”
Cade reached out to stroke her cheek, but he didn’t smile. “I really hope that’s the case, but it seems unlikely. Did she have any other family?”
She shook her head. Like her, Jess had never known her father, and her mother had succumbed to her battle with cancer a year before the virus had been released. There had been an uncle that no one ever talked about, so she doubted her friend would have gone to him when things turned bad.
“I’m sorry, but we really don’t have any way of knowing when she left or where she went.”
She bit her lip, furrowing her brow as she thought. “There might be. When we were younger, we used to leave notes for each other. It wasn’t ever anything important, just kid stuff. We’d hide them in a secret place in the barn out back.”
He tilted his head. “And you think she left you something there?”
“It makes sense.” She paused and took a deep breath, hoping she didn’t sound quite so defensive when she continued. “No one would find it there, so there’s no chance it would be lost or destroyed. It won’t hurt to look.”
“No, it won’t hurt.” His smile was a little too indulgent, a little too sympathetic. “Just don’t get your hopes up, okay?”
It was too late to promise that, so she said nothing as she led the way back to the front door. The barn resided about eight hundred yards behind the house, the natural wood weather-beaten and sun-bleached to a pale, unhealthy gray. The double doors swayed in the breeze, their rusted hinges creaking with every pass. The chain that had kept them closed dangled from one of the handles, and sunlight glinted off the padlock where it lay broken on the ground.
There wouldn’t have been much to take. The place hadn’t been a working ranch in years, and all the animals and equipment had been sold off to help pay for the cancer treatments. When her mother had passed, Mackenna had begged Jess to come stay with her in Colorado, but she’d refused, unwilling to abandon her childhood home.
“We were going to turn the ranch into an animal sanctuary and wildlife education center.” They’d also talked about transforming the old barn into an animal clinic, so people didn’t have to drive forty miles to visit a vet. “That feels like so long ago.”
“I’m sorry that was taken away from you. I think you would have been an amazing vet.”
“Thanks. I think I would have to.” That wasn’t to say she couldn’t be of some use now. She may not have graduated, but she still had seven years of animal medicine under her belt. “Maybe there will be animals in Olympus I can look after.”
“Not to mention shifters.” Cade shrugged when she arched an eyebrow at him. “If they’re shifted, how much different could it be?”
She actually didn’t have an answer to that. Outwardly, Gemini were no different in their shifted forms than animals in the wild. They had the same fur, same skin texture, same bone structure. She had no idea what went on inside their bodies, though. In nature, most animals didn’t have an appendix. Would the same be true for a shifter?
“I guess it’s something to look into,” she conceded as they approached the darkened entryway of the barn. “Hold on.” Just to be safe, she caught Cade by the arm to pull him to a stop while she sniffed the air and concentrated her hearing. “Okay, all clear.”
Cade paused at the threshold. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, but—”
“She left something.” Of course, she staked that on the assumption that Jess had left the property of her own volition. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was it. There would be some message waiting for her in the barn, something to allay her fears and answer all her questions. “I know she left something. Come on.”
With the sun sinking toward the horizon, only a thin swath of light illuminated the interior of the barn. For her lupine eyes, it was more than enough, giving her a clear view of the empty, cavernous space. The lingering scent of stale hay still permeated the air, but it was mostly overpowered by the foul odor of rat droppings and
