Fire at Dusk: Part 3

Jessie sat twirling her hair around her index finger, glancing at the door every couple of minuets as the various creaks and shutters of the old cabin being buffeted by the evening breeze reached her ears. Each time her heart fluttered with hope that Richard had finally returned, but he never appeared. She rose from her position on the couch and looked out the window, cupping her hand over her eyes to cut out the glare from the overhead light.

“I'm starting to get worried about Richard,” she said.

Mike sighed and said “Aw, come on Jess, he's a grown ass man. Why can't ya just let him alone a bit? Ya've been like a cat on a hot tin roof since the boys got back. 'Sides this is just like ol' Dick. Just last week he was out rasin' hell and I reckon thats where he's at now.”

“He's been carryin' on about the game all week. Something just ain't right,” Jessie shot back. “We've got to go and look for him!”

“Are you crazy? And miss the game? This is the best they've been doing all season,” Mike hollered back, waving his arms at the television. He sat in silence for a moment, but could feel the burn of Jessie's eyes on the back of his neck. He picked up a flashlight resting on the end-table and tossed it at her. “Look, if yer so worried about him, then maybe you should go and find him yerself.”

Jessie turned to the door as the group's attention returned to the game. “Maybe I will,” she said under her breath.

As she shut the front door behind her, she heard a muffled roar of hoots and cheers from indoors. The porch light flickered and she shivered from a chill in the air. She squinted into the darkness and called out for Richard a few times. Her ears strained for a reply, but only a lone owl called back with it own question. She took a deep breath, turned the flashlight on, and stepped into the darkness.