Page 8 of Girl in the Snow
Ella’s fake American accent always made Deanna laugh.This time, she raised a slight giggle.
“I’m going to try to get some sleep.I haven’t had a chance to look at my cabin yet but I’m sure it’ll be nice and cosy.”
“Alright then.Call me soon.”
“Will do.”
Deanna hung up the phone on the receiver with a satisfying clunk.She pushed herself out of the office chair and was about to walk out of Cal’s office, when she spotted a framed photo on the wall by the door.
It was her mother, Maddy, in the middle of a group of people.Judging by their clothes, it was the early ’90s, maybe before Deanna was born.Her mum had her hair cut in a short bob and wore a baggy blazer and jeans.
She was with two men and another woman standing outside with pine trees and a mountain view in the background.One man, with a stocky build and a ginger beard, was towering over her – Cal’s father – and the other man was someone she recognised only from photo albums.Tall and dark-haired with the charming smile of a friendly, loving man.It was her own father, Raphael.Before his untimely heart attack.
Then there was the other woman in the photo.She knew it was Priya from her stunning, wide smile.She was gorgeous, even with her long hair teased on top, the rest thrown over one shoulder.She held a baby on her hip.The little boy was serious looking, and his thatch of dark hair was cut in a severe style, straight across his forehead.Little Cal was cute, and an almost exact miniature of the man he was now.
Deanna smiled as she patted her mother’s face in the photo.“Nice to see you, Mum.”
Then she headed out to ask Cal for the key to her cabin.
Chapter Four
Hourslater,Deannasaton her pine-framed double bed with about fifty blankets and quilts piled on top of her, and the remnants of a glass of wine on the bedside table.She was trying to watch a rom-com movie on her tablet, but the lodge’s internet wouldn’t connect properly.The screen was frozen on an image of Sandra Bullock’s face, looking shocked about something.She plonked her tablet down beside her and admitted defeat.No more movie.
The snow was properly falling outside now, and the wind had picked up to a gale.A howling noise had her sitting up straight, holding the blankets up to her chin, and the insistent banging against the roof and windows made her want to call for help.Deanna glanced at the landline phone by her bed.Cal wasn’t far away.
Even though the rational part of her mind knew it was tree branches banging the roof in the wind, the other, believing-in-nightmares part had different ideas.It was convinced a serial killer or some other boogeyman was using the storm as cover to claw his way inside at any moment.And probably eat her face clean off.Reason number one why she watched rom-coms instead of horror movies.Or she tried to.Sandra Bullock was being no help whatsoever, which was unlike her.
Deanna pulled the blankets right up over her head.Maybe she could sleep in a blanket fort?But the loudest, most impossible crash reverberated through the entire cabin.She gasped and sat bolt upright, peeking out, but holding the blankets up in a death grip around her chin.Something had thudded down hard against the roof, as if a hippopotamus was up there having a tea party, like in a kids’ book she’d read once.
The phone was in her hand before she could think twice.The number ‘1’ on the button keypad was marked ‘Office’ so she hit it hard and pressed the phone to her ear, waiting, hoping that Cal would answer.But there was no dial tone.She tried again.Still nothing.
“Oh no.Please pick up.”
Then the lights flickered and the noise from the little electric heater stopped mid-blow.Deanna’s mind just about sputtered to a stop too.The power outages Cal mentioned as ‘possible’ were not so hypothetical.A second later she was plunged into blackness when the lights went out completely.
“Help?”she called out, her voice cracking on a whimper.
No one heard her.How could they?Cal was at least ten metres away from her cabin in the main lodge, and there were no other people around.Except for any serial killers still lurking…
Wary of getting herself murdered, Deanna pushed back the bedding piled on top of her and grabbed her cell phone.There was still no network coverage, but at least she could use it as a flashlight.She eased herself down from the high bed, wrapping one blanket around her shoulders.For warmth.Or security.
Shining the phone’s light in front of her, Deanna made her way slowly towards the cabin’s door.She inched her way across the room, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end as the howling wind whipped past the cabin’s windows.A scraping sound across the roof made her wince.But she forgot about the gigantic suitcase she’d left standing near the end of the bed.Walking straight into it, she stubbed her big toe, hard.
“Mother…forking…suitcase!”She grabbed her right foot in her hand and hopped around in a circle crying, “Ow, ow, ow!”
She shivered as a glob of icy sludge dropped from above, right on her head and then wetness dribbled down the back of her cardigan.She squealed, then stamped her feet.Which sent a breath-stealing, shooting pain from her sore toe, right up her leg.This time, she screamed.Like the murderer of her worst nightmares had finally got her.Like it was her last chance to cry for help.
When Deanna looked up, she found a hole in the ceiling and the night sky winking at her through the gap along with a massive tree branch.The wind chose that moment to pick up in a furious gust, sending a flurry of snow through the hole right into her eyes.
Her scream this time was blood-curdling enough to make a horror movie heroine proud.She sank to the floor in a defeated heap.Her phone slipped from her grasp and who knew where it went.
The next thing she knew, there was a muffled banging on the door and a creak of hinges, followed by a crack of light as the door opened.She curled up into a ball.
“Deanna?”A deep voice called out.
Light spilled in from outside and outlined her saviour: Cal, holding a flashlight, looking stern and amazing, all big and knight-like andthere, having come to her rescue.
Her stomach flipped and she let out a long, slow breath.
