After Ellie's marriage had dissolved (her ex husband's words, not hers) Charlie had offered the two bed one baths cottage behind his home to her. It had been pleasant enough since she and Charlie had been like brother/sister growing up due to his parent's being neglectful. They lived in the house next door and when his parents would disappear for weeks at a time on their 'adventures' he would show up and Ellie's mother would take care of him until they got back. Her mother would never allow her to go to over to Charlie's but he was always welcome at her house. She couldn't fight the smile on her lips or the sorrowful tear in the corner of her eye as she approached the door.
She turned the antiqued handle and it opened without protest. The cottage, contained within the walls of Charlie's bountiful estate, was never locked as you had to get through a security fence (keypad or opener) then through the big house unless you somehow scaled the 18 foot non-scale-able iron fence behind the estate. Charlie appreciated his privacy and would often retreat here himself when a particular story would become 'uncooperative' to being written in the big empty house. As she walked through the tiny entry way she could almost hear the keys of Charlie's Sony Selectric Typewriter (he almost never used his laptop in the cottage) and she smiled before something struck her. It was like getting slapped in the face, the one question she should have asked Predictable Chuck ... why was he in the main house?
"Hello?" she asked tentatively, the pieces finally fitting together. If Charlie was in the main house, he had guests and guests often stayed in the cottage. She pulled the police issued Glock, felt the grooves against her palm as her finger rested just outside the trigger and she spoke again, a bit louder. "Hello?" She continued down the hallway, no longer speaking as she tread lightly through the house. Surely someone here would have heard the sirens and what not going on.
Clearing the cottage took minutes, she would duck into every room (all 6 of them) and check the closets. It wasn't until she reached the back bedroom that something hit her ... a smell like the smell she had encountered in the big house. It was sickeningly sweet like her mother's potpourri and it seemed to be masking something else. The door to the back room, the last in the hallway, was closed but still ajar somewhat.
She turned the antiqued handle and it opened without protest. The cottage, contained within the walls of Charlie's bountiful estate, was never locked as you had to get through a security fence (keypad or opener) then through the big house unless you somehow scaled the 18 foot non-scale-able iron fence behind the estate. Charlie appreciated his privacy and would often retreat here himself when a particular story would become 'uncooperative' to being written in the big empty house. As she walked through the tiny entry way she could almost hear the keys of Charlie's Sony Selectric Typewriter (he almost never used his laptop in the cottage) and she smiled before something struck her. It was like getting slapped in the face, the one question she should have asked Predictable Chuck ... why was he in the main house?
"Hello?" she asked tentatively, the pieces finally fitting together. If Charlie was in the main house, he had guests and guests often stayed in the cottage. She pulled the police issued Glock, felt the grooves against her palm as her finger rested just outside the trigger and she spoke again, a bit louder. "Hello?" She continued down the hallway, no longer speaking as she tread lightly through the house. Surely someone here would have heard the sirens and what not going on.
Clearing the cottage took minutes, she would duck into every room (all 6 of them) and check the closets. It wasn't until she reached the back bedroom that something hit her ... a smell like the smell she had encountered in the big house. It was sickeningly sweet like her mother's potpourri and it seemed to be masking something else. The door to the back room, the last in the hallway, was closed but still ajar somewhat.
