Sounds Like Deception (Sounds Like 2)

I walked out of the tiled bathroom and sat on the quilt beside AJ. “I’m starving,” I whined. “I haven’t eaten all day.”

I was glad he had brought in the bucket of rainwater. It made spending the night in a house without running water a little less awkward.

“Maybe there’s something in the kitchen,” he suggested. “I thought I checked all the cabinets, but I can look again.”

I twisted my lips together. I didn’t like it any time we were separated. Not even in the small farmhouse. He had eased my worry about immediate danger. He had to be right. No one would go out in this nightmare of a storm.

“Why would there be food?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Why is any of this stuff here?”

“Good point.” I nodded. “Oh! I might have a protein bar in my suitcase. I always pack a few when I travel.” I walked over to the corner of the room.

“You look for some of your cardboard food and I’m going to check the kitchen. God, I hope there’s something in there.”

I held my breath when he walked out of the room. It was silly. I could hear his footsteps. I knew he was close by. I just liked it better when he was next to me.

I knelt on the floor. This was the same suitcase I had packed to go to Dallas to meet Ethan Howard. So much had happened in the past week, I couldn’t remember how many bars I had packed and how many I had eaten. I had been living in a state of shock. Going through the motions. Spurred by curiosity. Haunted by guilt.

I combed through the back pockets, sliding my hand between makeup bags and my compact hairdryer.

“Ah-hah!” I pulled a blueberry protein bar into the air. “AJ, I found one,” I called toward the kitchen. We could split it. It had nineteen grams of protein. We wouldn’t die from starvation overnight.

Holding the bar like a trophy, I scrambled back on the quilt. I straightened the ends. We had balled it into a mess. Sex on top of sex made it look more like a love nest than a bed. I tried to flatten the corners when I felt something. I dropped the protein bar in the center and ran my hand over the corner of the quilt again.

There was no mistaking it. There was something tucked inside the quilt square.

“AJ!” I yelled.

He ran into the bedroom. “What’s wrong? What happened?” His eyes were wild. They darted to the gun.

I held up the blanket. “There’s something in here.” He had to have heard the fear in my voice. It was mixed with excitement. I didn’t know why I was excited. This wasn’t a treasure hunt.

“In the quilt?” He knelt beside me.

I nodded. “Feel it.” I handed it to him. “I think it’s folded paper. Maybe an envelope? It feels thick.”

He ran the corner panel between his rugged palms. “Hold on. I have a knife in my bag. I can cut it out.”

I waited while he searched for the utility tool. He flipped open the sharp edge of the knife blade and started cutting. I stared while the threads popped.

He lifted the flap of the quilt square. I picked up the paper. I looked at AJ as I unfolded it in my hand.

There were several sheets stacked together. I laid them in front of us so we could examine them. AJ pressed the creases in the center to keep them flat. They had been doubled over twice. How long had they been inside the blanket? Who put them there?

We leaned closer. It was hard to see clearly in the candlelight. AJ brought one over next to the quilt. It flickered from the movement.

I brushed my bangs out of the way.

“Look. Look.” I poked the pages.

I tried to take in the images, but I couldn’t process them. My eyes darted from one page to the other. They were simple black and white photos copied on regular paper. Anyone could have printed them out on a home printer.

“Who is this woman?” he asked.

“I’m not sure, but all of those pictures were taken here. She’s here at this house. Look. She’s sitting on the swing on the back porch. And the barn. I was there today. That’s the barn door.” My voice picked up speed. “And that oak tree. The one you think is going to crush us. She’s on a tire swing.” I wanted more. There weren’t enough.

AJ flipped one of the pages over.