Van kissed my forehead. “Go back to the truck.”
“What if there’s someone with a gun, maybe a hunter or someone worse?”
“There’s no car or truck.” He looked around the side of the cabin. “Not even a snowmobile. No one is here.”
If it weren’t for the confirmation of the fire within, I would insist we head back to the house. I saw the interior in my mind’s eye—wooden furniture, blankets, and throw rugs. With the addition of our dried-out tree, the cabin was a tinderbox ready to ignite.
I couldn’t fathom why Michael would leave a fire unattended.
Van turned the doorknob and pushed the door inward.
Tepid air met us as we stepped inside.
I let out the breath I was holding as we both scanned the one room, finding we were alone. “Where’s the tree?” I asked.
As my eyes adjusted to the firelight, I walked to where we’d had the tree set up. Spinning around, I took in the room from all directions. The tree wasn’t only gone, there was no sign of needles or decorations. My boots tapped on the wood floor of the kitchen area. It too was without pine needles. When I turned, Van was down on his haunches, inspecting the fire within the hearth.
“The fire isn’t new,” he said. “It’s been burning for a while. The grate is hot as if the fire has been burning for hours or days.”
He pointed to the rack that holds firewood. I recalled that Van had filled it with logs for our Christmas celebration. Since we decided to head back to the house early, there should be a larger stack.
“Wasn’t there more wood?” I asked.
“That’s what I was thinking.”
Walking deeper into the kitchen, I noticed one of the mugs from the pegs was in the sink with a spoon. “Van, someone has been here, and I don’t think it was Michael.”
He came closer, reaching for the handle to the pump, lifting it up and pushing it down. After two such movements, the water began to flow. “It’s been primed.”
“Who would use your cabin? Who would clean it?” I met his green gaze and his stern expression. “Margaret? She didn’t mention it.”
Van shook his head. “Margaret doesn’t come out here without permission. This is my retreat.”
“It looks like it’s someone else’s too.”
I walked over to the bed. The quilt was pulled up like it had been when we left. I gripped the hem of the covers and pulled them down. “Shit.”
Van was beside me. “What?”
“Look at the pillow. It’s dented.”
“We spent the night—”
“No,” I interrupted. “We changed the sheets before we left. Remember?”
Going back to the kitchen, Van took a pan from below the counter and filled it with water from the pump.
“I thought you said that needed to be boiled.”
“We’re not staying, and we’re not drinking it. I’m going to use this to douse the fire.”
The logs sizzled and flames hissed as he poured the water. Smoke and steam escaped the hearth. Van returned to the sink. With the fire extinguished, the cabin was now in near darkness. Watching his silhouette, he filled the pan once again.
I wrapped my arms around my midsection as he repeated the quenching of the coals below the grate. Setting the pan on the hearth, Van took out his phone and turned on the flashlight.
“Julia, look.”
Avoiding the sparse furniture, I went to him, crouching down at his side. “What?”