The Fury - Jason Pinter [38]
114
Jason Pinter
"Henry," Amanda said, her hand gripping my arm
tighter. "Look at that."
In the dirt driveway, we could clearly make out the
tread markings from a second set of tires. These treads
were marked with numerous crisscrossing lines, both
vertical and horizontal in even patterns. Truck tires
tended to have more grooves, deeper cuts, better for
sluicing water and specifically designed for off-roading.
These tracks likely belonged to a some sort of SUV. Our
eyes followed the tracks back to a clearing in the woods.
Whoever had come here hadn't used the front door.
They'd come in a different way. They didn't want to be
seen arriving. Who could have come here besides
Helen? And what kind of person would have come not
wanting to be seen? Clearly, whoever had come here
knew they would be coming in through the woods, and
needed treads that could handle it. Somebody wanted
to not be seen using the front door.
"This can't be good," Amanda said under her breath.
"What if someone is still there?"
She didn't need to say that that person might not be
Helen Gaines.
I stopped the car short of the driveway and put it into
Park. I kept the engine running. Just in case.
With the engine purring, we both unlocked our doors
and tentatively stepped into the evening air. Wind
swirled around us as we stared at the cabin. I couldn't
see much inside, so I crept closer, hunched low to the
ground. Dirt crackled under my feet as Amanda kept
pace several steps behind me.
I crept up the front steps and up to the door. Both side
windows were closed, and a drape prevented me from
The Fury
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viewing what was inside. I gently knocked on the door.
There was no doorbell.
"Miss Gaines?" I called. "Helen?"
There was no response.
I called louder. Waited a minute. Heard nothing.
I walked back down the steps, then decided to go
around the house to see what we could find.
Heart pounding in my chest, I slid up to a side
window, cupped my hands to the glass and peered in.
The room was dark. There was a long couch, and I
could make out a television stand and what looked like
a desk. Other than that the room was impeccably clean.
Peering in closer, I could see a faint yellow glow ema
nating from a room beyond this one. A light was on
somewhere on the first floor.
"Stay here," I said to Amanda.
"Like hell," she replied. That was the end of that
discussion.
Staying low, we sidled around the back of the house
where another window faced the forest. Off in the
distance, I could make out a narrow road, paved poorly
but wide enough for a car to fit through. It did not face
the front of the house, and would be unseen by anyone
who was not in this room at the time. The window was
mere yards from the SUV tire tracks.
There was no doubt; whoever had come here had
used that path to gain access to the house.
I approached the window. My breath was ragged, and
I could hear Amanda panting behind me. Gently I stood
up until my eye line was just over the windowsill.
I made out the top of a shower rod and a medicine chest.
This was clearly the downstairs bathroom. Then I saw it.
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Jason Pinter
The right medicine cabinet was open. Pills and
makeup were spread out all over the counter. Bottles
were broken. Things scattered everywhere.
That's when Amanda stood up, saw the entirety of
the bathroom, and let out a bloodcurdling scream.
When I saw what she was looking at, it was all I
could do to stifle mine.
A body was facedown on the floor. Her blouse was
ripped and tattered. Her arms were splayed out in a
horribly unnatural position.
And a pool of blood was spread around her head like
a gruesome sunrise.
Without thinking, I ran to the nearest tree, propped my
foot against a limb and pulled until I heard a crunch and
the thick branch snapped off. Taking a running start, I
brought the limb back behind my head just like when I
played Little League, and slammed the branch against
the windowpane. The glass didn't shatter, but a large
crack snaked down the