He pulled her inside, then closed and locked the door behind them. “So, what do you think?” he asked, pride in his voice.
The cabin was one room, with a double bed in one corner and a dresser beside it. The opposite corner was the living area, with a lumpy-looking couch and two shabby armchairs. A coffee table stood in front of the couch, with a small end table between the couch and the closer chair.
Opposite the living area was the kitchen area -- a small stove, small refrigerator and a sink set into a line of cabinets. Gold Formica covered the counter. On the other side of the cabin stood a sturdy-looking table and four chairs. The wood-burning stove hunched between the kitchen and the table.
Marching down the center of the cabin were three sturdy poles made from tree trunks.
Ethan stared at her, waiting for a response. “It’s nice,” she said. “Very homey.”
He beamed. “We’re so much alike, Zoe. That’s exactly what I thought. Are you hungry?” Ethan asked as he turned away from the door.
“Not really,” she said.
“You’re probably a little carsick from the ride,” he said. “I get carsick if I lay down in a car. Let me start the fire, then I’ll fix some dinner.” He smiled happily. “I made some stew. You’ll love it.”
“Ethan, before you start that fire, can you cut these ties off my hands?” she asked, trying to sound timid. Pleading. “My hands are numb.”
“Of course. Now that we’re home, there’s no reason for you to be tied up.”
He hurried over and drew his knife out of the scabbard he wore at his waist. With one flick of his hand, the zip tie separated and her hands were free.
She rubbed at her wrists, encircled by deep, purple grooves. Ethan noticed her rubbing them, and as he slid the knife back into its sheath, he said, “Those will go away in a few days.” Anger and remembered pain flashed over his face. “I remember from when I was in Middleton Hospital.”
“They tied you up?” Zoe asked, horrified.
Poor Ethan. Confined to a psychiatric facility where they’d bound him with zip ties. Had he ever gotten any help while he was there? Or had they just kept him there, medicating him?
“Yeah, they tied me up,” he said. Put his hand on her wrist and let his thumb caress the bruise. “I don’t blame you, Zoe. It wasn’t your choice to send me there. But I’m never going back to a place like that.”
“No one’s going to put you anywhere that they use zip ties to bind your hands together,” she said. She looked down at the bruises on her own wrists and shuddered. “And why would they?” she forced herself to say. “You’ve been doing very well for a long time.”
“That’s right,” he said, clearly pleased she’d realized that. “I worked at the IGA after I got out of Middleton. Everyone there liked me. I did a good job, and I was a good employee.”
“I’m sure you were,” she said. Feeling was returning to her hands, and needles stung her hands and fingers. She hid her hands behind her back and shook them, trying to ease the pain.
He set the pot of stew on the stove and turned on the gas. As it heated, the smell filled the room and made her stomach churn. It had been a long time since she’d eaten meat, and she wasn’t going to start tonight.
Then he turned his attention to the wood-burning stove. He’d already filled it with wood and kindling, so he struck a match, dropped it in and returned to the stove before she could run for the door.
She dropped into one of the chairs at the kitchen table, still rubbing her wrists. Ethan looked over at her as he stirred the stew and smiled. “What did you think of my gifts?” he asked.
“The charms?” she asked, then realized her voice was too sharp. She didn’t want to say anything that might set Ethan off. She swallowed. Took a breath. “That was my charm bracelet that you took apart,” she said quietly. My mother and father gave that to me. My mother gave me a charm every year on my birthday. It was one of the few things I have left from my parents, and you destroyed it.”
He gazed at her, stricken. “I didn’t realize it was so special to you.”
“Why do you think I wore it every day? Where did you get it?”
“You left it on your desk after our coding test. Remember? You hurried out of the room to get to your next class and left it behind. I took it so I could give it back to you.”
“But you never did, Ethan.” Zoe made her voice even. Gentle. “Why didn’t you return it?”
“I was going to give it back to you,” he said, avoiding her gaze as he stirred the stew. “When I picked you up at your house. But… but nothing went like I planned that night.”
“No, it didn’t. You killed my father that night.”
Ethan looked away. Stirred his stew. “I didn’t mean to kill him.”
“I know you didn’t mean to shoot him. But why did you bring a gun that night?”