Windridge Notes

Chapter 9 | Walk Away

W A L K  A W A Y

. . .

The drive out of Windridge felt endless, even though it was just a few miles.

The fields, usually peaceful and serene, seemed to stretch on forever beneath a sky that felt far too expansive. The sun was setting, casting long, creeping shadows across the land, and I couldn't help but think about how every mile we covered brought us closer to the barn—and to the truth we had been chasing.

But with that truth came danger, and that realization was gnawing at me with every turn in the road.

Lori's silence didn't help. She gripped the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. I could feel the tension radiating off her, see the determination in the way her jaw was set, but I also knew that underneath it, she was just as scared as I was.

What could I even say to ease her fear when I could barely handle my own? We had come so far, but at what cost?

My thoughts drifted to Liam again. He had been so close to this same truth, but it had crushed him. It had left him standing on that cliff, looking out over the sea, weighed down by secrets too heavy to bear alone.

And now, here we were, following the same path, and walking into the same darkness. I couldn't help but wonder if he had felt this same gnawing fear before it all became too much.

"There it is," Lori said, breaking the silence.

I looked up and saw the barn ahead of us. It was old, far older than I had imagined. Its roof sagged in places, and the paint had long since faded to a dull, weathered gray.

It stood at the edge of a thick grove of trees, partially hidden, as if it were trying to keep its secrets buried. But somewhere inside that barn was what we had been searching for—Michael's documents. The truth that had been buried for so long.

Lori parked the car a little ways down the road, and we both got out. The air was cool, biting against my skin as we stepped onto the overgrown path leading to the barn. Everything around us felt fragile—every rustle of leaves, every creak of wood felt amplified, like the world was holding its breath.

"You ready?" Lori asked, her voice steady but soft.

I nodded, though my heart was pounding in my chest. "Yeah. Let's do this."

We walked toward the barn, our footsteps crunching on the gravel path, each step bringing us closer to the answers we sought. The building loomed in front of us, its darkened windows staring back like empty eyes, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something—or someone—was watching us from the shadows.

When we reached the door, Lori hesitated for a moment before pushing it open. The creak of the old hinges echoed through the barn, a sound that seemed to reverberate through the stillness, stirring up dust that had likely settled for years. The faint smell of mildew lingered in the air, mixing with the scent of old hay and rotting wood.

We stepped inside, our eyes adjusting to the dim light that filtered through the cracks in the walls. The interior was just as decrepit as the outside—rotting beams, rusted tools, and piles of hay that hadn't been touched in years.

But there was something else here too. I could feel it—a sense of purpose, of something hidden waiting to be found.

I glanced around the room, my heart racing. "Where do we start?"

Lori moved toward a stack of old crates in the far corner of the barn. "Let's check over here. If Michael hid the documents, he would've chosen a spot where no one would think to look."