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Siskiyou Mountains, southwest Oregon
Olivia Kendricks slowed the snowmobile as she drew near the house, flakes growing thicker by the minute, etching the roof, fireplace and window seals in white and turning her home into a cottage from a Thomas Kinkade painting. Even after two winters here, that picturesque scene always filled her with peace.
Except today. Instead of that sense of peace, an eerie feeling crept over her.
Olivia continued forward. Traveling by snowmobile provided the best way to get here in the winter, unless she wanted to plow the long, curvy drive up the mountain when several feet of the white stuff buried the road. And she didn’t. Besides, Olivia enjoyed the ride.
She lived for it.
The whine of the snowmobile resounded through the forest, echoing off the snow-covered trees as she steered the vehicle all the way in. She parked next to the covered garage protecting her old truck, then turned off the ignition.
Something was wrong. What was it?
Then she realized the lights were off in the house.
Strange.
She removed her helmet, shook out her hair and slid off the vehicle. Flakes accumulated in her lashes and she wiped them away as she entered the front door of the family vacation cabin where she’d taken up residence. There were no relatives left to enjoy it as a getaway anymore—well except her brother, Rich, whom she hadn’t seen since their mother’s funeral three years before.
That is, until yesterday.
Stomping her boots at the entrance, she hoped to disturb her brother into letting her know he was still here.
The dark house that greeted her said differently.
“Rich? Where are you?” She flicked on the lights as she made her way through the vacation-getaway-turned-cozy-home toward the room he’d slept in last night. The same room he’d used as a boy during their stays. Had he left without even saying goodbye? She hoped she’d find the few things he’d brought with him still in the room. Hoped he would stick around for a while and give them both some time to work through their issues of the past, though Rich might not be as keen to resolve them.
His backpack lay on the bed, flap hanging open and jeans and gear sprawled out. Relief swooshed through her. At least he hadn’t left for good. Maybe he’d just gone out for a walk or even a snowmobile ride.
At the kitchen sink, Olivia poured a glass of water and glanced out the window, noting the snowmobile he’d ridden to the house was gone. And something...there was something in the snow.
Frowning, Olivia hurried out the back door.
Blood.
Her breath caught.
Crimson stained the snow and would soon be buried beneath
