Thirty-Five
Shit. No one was coming. Despair made Lulu slump against the wall. Maybe there was no one around to see the smoke. Maybe seeing smoke in the winter wasn’t unusual. People had burn barrels, after all. Smokehouses. Why would anyone go out of their way to investigate a fire this small? A fire that had burned hot and bright, but was already going out.
Plan B. She needed a Plan B, desperately. She couldn’t stay in the cabin any longer because the kidnapper would know she set the outhouse fire. Maybe she should make her way to the shoreline and steal his boat after he tied up. Yes.
She did a quick search of the cabin for anything that would help keep her warm out there, but there was nothing. Her sea slug costume would have to do. Steeling herself, she stepped into the clearing.
