Chapter 2: Building Tension
As I stepped out of the pickup, I felt the cool evening breeze tickle the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. My boots crunched against the gravel, a sound that was almost comforting in its familiarity. Kevin followed me, his footsteps a little slower, a little heavier.
Inside the farmhouse, the air was warm, filled with the scent of freshly baked cookies and the faint hint of perfume lingering in the hallway. I kicked off my boots, leaving them by the door, and padded through to the kitchen, the linoleum cool against my socks.
Kevin hung back, taking in the familiar sights of the farmhouse. The walls were adorned with old photographs, the fridge was covered in magnets and drawings from kids I'd helped deliver lambs to, and the table was worn from years of use.
"Where's your dog?" Kevin asked, looking around for my usual companion.
"Oh, she's out back, chasing butterflies," I said, smiling. "She'll be in soon enough."
I opened the refrigerator, pulling out a jar of homemade iced tea, and poured two glasses. "Here," I said, handing one to Kevin.