Goldilocks Forever

Chapter 1

Walton, New York

February 18, 2043

After maneuvering the narrow forest road for over thirty minutes, Beau finally arrived. He sat in the rented car and stared while beads of perspiration dripped down his temples. His heavy breath fogged the windshield and his hands tremored on the steering wheel. He rubbed them together and blew on them.

Months of digging. Months of frustration as he hunted for answers. Everything led him here.

He inhaled deeply and tried to focus.

The cabin towered at the end of the road with no numbers or signs to declare its address. A wide set of stairs led to a porch on which drifts of snow collected, covering a set of table and chairs. Curtains prevented him from seeing into the windows, but revealed a soft glow from the lights inside.

The pristine snow and stillness of the forest had no calming effect on him. Beau took another deep breath and looked at his cane in the passenger seat. He frowned and leaned to take his first tentative step out of the car, hooking the cane around his arm. At the very least he could use it as a weapon. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

He climbed the steps to the porch, careful to find his footing under all the wet snow, and stood before the front door, listening for a moment. He raised his hand to knock, but before he could, the door knob rattled and twisted.

The door opened to reveal a young man—Beau estimated he was in his mid to late twenties—with dark hair and bright blue eyes, dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of faded blue jeans. The man's face portrayed none of the emotions Beau often saw when he knocked on doors. Instead of the usual alarm, suspicion, fear, or panic, the man's mouth curved into a smile.

He held the door open wider and stepped aside. "Come in. It's freezing out there."

Beau's body tensed. He let his fingers touch the gun hidden under his jacket as he stepped into the cabin. He kept his eyes on the man who surveyed the snowy scene of the forest before closing the door, locking it, and turning back to Beau. His face still betrayed none of the usual thoughts.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, but I'm looking for someone." Beau paused and assessed his surroundings. To the right, a small open kitchen with ancient appliances, and to the left, a larger sitting room with a few ratty sofas and a large monitor on the wall. Behind this area a staircase led to the second floor and several rooms with closed doors. No pictures adorned the walls, no decor, nothing but sparse utilitarian furniture and electronics.

"Who are you looking for?" The man stood between the two living spaces, blocking Beau from the door. He glimpsed at Beau's cane.

"Toby Day."

Another flash of a smile flickered on the man's face. "What do you want with Toby Day?"

A reasonable question, but further suspicion invaded Beau's thoughts. "I need to ask him a few questions."

 "About what?"

"About my parents." Beau studied his face for any sign, any flare of the nostrils or twitch of the eye. The same tell-tale movements he watched for on the faces of suspects and witnesses. "Is Mr. Day here?"

"I'm Toby Day." The man brought his hand to his mouth and nibbled on the edge of his fingers.

"You're Toby Day?"

"Yes." He ripped off a chunk of a fingernail in his teeth and with a tilt of his head, spat it onto the floor. "Why don't you believe me?"

Beau crossed his arms over his chest and shivered. "Look, I really don't want to waste anyone's time or make trouble. I'm just looking for more information. That's all."