The Girl in Cabin 13

CHAPTER FIVE

I hang around the bar with the bartenders and the lingering customers as Jake starts

his rounds of bringing people home. I agreed to his ride, but I'll be the last of the

night. I don't mind. Sitting here looking out over the people gives me the opportunity

to start getting a feel for Feathered Nest and those who live here. I was fully anticipating the

uncertainty at my arrival. People always think of the inhabitants of small Southern

towns being hospitable and welcoming. But there's a tremendous difference between

hospitality toward guests and visitors, and openly trusting and welcoming those who may

linger around.

Especially for people who have grown up in very small, isolated tones like this one, new

people are reasons to be suspicloud. If you can't connect at least dots and prove some sort

of link to the area, you don't belong.

The backstory I rambled out to the police chief and to Jake gave me a fake relative in a

nearby town, but that's enough to give me credibility. I'm going to have to ease into

their existence and wear their trust. That starts with learning about them and the way

of life in the town. I'm drawn in to watching the conversations unfolding and the

slivers of life happening in all corners of the bar. Couples stare at each other, seeming

to have lost all awareness of the rest of the world around them. New cou-

ples are at the brink of forming between people paired up on the dance floor swaying,

even though the music volume has been turned down to nearly inaudible in preparation for

closing. People sit alone, decompressing from their day, longing for someone, or enjoying

time on their own, thinking of what to do next. Friend carry on like they have the rest too

the night even though last call was half an hour ago, and soon the bar will close.

I'm so drawn into watching them I barely even notice when Jake gets

back. He steps up beside me, and I jump slightly.

"Sorry," he says. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine. I'm not usually so jumpy," I tell him.

"Nobody can blame you. When your welcoming committee to a new

town consists of a dead body, people are going to give you a little bit of

leeway when it comes to jangly nerves. Are you ready to get going?"

"Absolutely."

Jake reaches out, so his hand hovers a few inches away from my back

as I get down from the stool. He uses the presence of that hand not

touching me, but right there, close enough that I can sense it, to guide

me out if the bar and to a car waiting at the curb. He walks around the

front of the car to the passenger seat with me. He opens the door, hold-