Page 121 of A Wolfe in the Woods

Voicemail again.

“Come on, Blanche…” I muttered, getting more impatient by the second. The apology I’d finally forced out into the world felt suspended now…unanswered, hanging in the air between us. Logic said she might not want to talk. After a fight like ours, space made sense.

But this didn’t feel like space.

This feltwrong.

I didn’t have proof.And Blanche had every reason not to answer. I’d hurt her with my words. But instinct whispered that this didn’t feel like distance from pain.

The cabin felt too small, too quiet around me. My father’s letter lay folded on the desk beside me, the words still echoing through my chest. I’d felt clear minutes ago…but not now.

Stepping outside, I went toward the glow of the reception cabin. Toward May.

The gravel crunched under my boots, loud in the stillness. The Hollow had gone into that deep evening hush. I jogged until I pushed open the reception door, the bell jingling.

May sat in the worn armchair near the stone fireplace, a mug of tea cupped in both hands. Firelight moved across her face in slow gold flickers, the flames low but steady, like they’d been burning a while.

Her head tilted up immediately. “Somethin’ wrong, Jon-boy?” she asked.

“I can’t get a hold of Blanche.”

May went still. Her posture sharpened, something old and knowing settling there. “Call Megan,” she said.

I blinked. “What?”

“Her friend. Megan,” May continued. “If Blanche isn’t answerin’ you, she might. Maybe she’ll know where she is.”

I moved without thinking, pulling up the guest contact info. Megan’s number had been listed weeks ago when she’d booked Blanche initially.

I punched in her number.

She answered on the second ring, breathless. “Hello?”

Cold slid down my spine. “Hi—Megan? This is Jonathan Wolfe. From Juniper Hollow.”

A small pause. Then, surprised, “Oh! Hi—wow, okay. I didn’t expect that.”

“Sorry,” I said quickly. “I know this is random…and an awkward way to meet someone.”

“No, it’s fine,” she said, a note of relief slipping in. I heard traffic, a car door shutting. “Honestly, I’m glad it’s you. Um, have you heard from Blanche?”

My stomach dropped. “No…that’s why I was calling. She’s not answering my calls.”

“Oh gods,” Megan said. “We had plans tonight, and she didn’t show…which is not like her at all. And she hasn’t answered me all evening. I’m outside her building right now.”

My stomach dropped. “You have a way to get inside?” I asked, tone low.

“I have a spare key,” Megan replied. “Stay on with me while I go check.” I heard her moving now with more urgency. Her footsteps, quick and uneven.

A knock. Then harder. “Bee?” she called, breath tight. “Bee, are you home? It’s me.” Silence. Then the rattle of keys. A door opening.

Then more silence. A quiet that stretched far too long.

“Megan?”

She didn’t answer right away.

When she did, her voice had changed. Lower. Tighter. Controlled in a way that indicated she was trying not to panic.