These people had to have some water.

Desperate for a drink, Shay picked up the pace despite the fact that the blister on her toe had been joined by one on the side of her foot, and within five minutes she was standing in front of the cabin she’d seen from the road.

No cars were around, so she guessed no one was home. A long, covered porch stretched across the front of the cabin and wrapped around both sides, and a porch swing sat near the front door. A large red barn was set back from the cabin, but she ignored it in favor of the house in front of her. But just in case she needed a place to crash for the night, maybe she could ask the owner to let her sleep on a nice straw bed in his barn.

Hoping it wouldn’t come to that, her gaze went to the windows on the front of the house. She didn’t see drapes or blinds or anything, although both upstairs windows had curtains drawn. She wasn’t going to slake her thirst by standing there staring, so she climbed the three steps to the porch and lifted her fist to knock. Then stopped.

What if some old guy with a gun lived there? And what if he didn’t take kindly to trespassers? What if he shot her?

Fear wafted over her like a bad case of body odor and she nearly turned away. But then her dry throat and pounding head reminded her that she was out of options. That she needed some water. STAT.

“Don’t be a chicken,” she whispered.

Filling her lungs with fresh mountain air, she softly knocked. When nothing happened she knocked harder, finally resorting to pounding. Still nothing.

Guess no one’s home.

Relieved, she stepped to the nearest window, cupped her hand to the glass and peered inside. No movement. All she saw was living room furniture—nothing to be scared of. And off to one side she could make out part of a kitchen. That meant water. Blissful, sweet water.

The thought of the cool liquid sliding down her throat made her lick her dry lips. She just needed to get inside.

With a purpose in mind, she went back to the front door and twisted the knob, but it was locked. No surprise there. Next, she checked both front windows, but they were closed tight.

How desperate did she need to be to actually break a window to get in?

Not sure if she’d quite reached that threshold, she stepped off of the porch and circled around to the rear of the house, keeping her eyes open for an outside faucet—which she didn’t find. When she reached the back porch and saw that one of the windows was open a fraction of an inch, elation swept through her. She could totally work with that.

The setting sun glinted off of the glass, nearly blinding her, but she ignored it as she focused on working the screen out of the opening. It took several attempts, but she finally got it out. Setting it on the ground, she noticed that she’d bent it a little, but she figured that was a small price to pay to quench her ever expanding thirst.

Wedging her fingers into the small gap between the window frame and the sliding window, triumph splashed over her as she gave the window a shove. It barely moved.

“Great,” she said, her voice thick with irritation. With a grunt of effort, she slid the window open, inch by stubborn inch. When the opening was wide enough for her to fit through, she hoisted herself up and through the window, landing on the floor with a painful thud.

She was in a small dining room. A round table surrounded by four chairs sat in the middle of the space, and through a nearby doorway she could see the kitchen. After pushing herself onto all fours, she used the back of one of the chairs to pull herself up, the palms of her hands tender from her earlier fall on the asphalt.

Determined to have a tall glass of water—she didn’t even care if it was cold—she walked into the kitchen, her ears attuned to the sound of someone else in the house. When she heard nothing but silence, she rummaged through the cupboards in search of a glass, although she was prepared to stick her mouth under the faucet if necessary.

It didn’t take long to find the right cupboard, and within moments she was guzzling the best water she had ever tasted. Once she’d quenched her thirst, she realized she was hungry. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast and now she was starving.

It’s not like she wanted to steal, but it’s not as if she could go hunting, or knew which plants were safe to eat, so she really didn’t see how she had any other choice. Pulling open cupboards at random, it didn’t take long in the small kitchen to find where the owner stashed the canned goods and boxes of crackers.

Trying not to think too hard about her predicament, she took a box of crackers out of the cabinet and ripped it open, then shoved one in her mouth. Saliva flooded her mouth at the wonderful taste. She ate several crackers, then realized she should see if this place had a phone. Not that she had anyone to call, but, you know, just in case she thought of someone.

Carrying the box of crackers with her, she looked around the kitchen—which is where she assumed a phone would be—but didn’t see one. She went into the living room, and when she didn’t find a phone there either, the beginnings of worry tickled the back of her neck. While she was looking, she took note of the sparse furnishings and wondered who the cabin belonged to. No pictures were on display, which made her think the place belonged to a man.

So far she’d checked the kitchen, dining room, and living room. The only other room on the main floor was a bathroom, which she made use of, but no phone there either.

“Guess I’d better check upstairs,” she murmured, although she didn’t hold out much hope that she would find a phone up there.

Still munching on crackers, she made her way up the wooden staircase, and when she reached the landing she noticed it was warmer upstairs. Fanning herself with her free hand, she poked her head into both bedrooms and the bathroom, but wasn’t surprised that none of the rooms held a phone.

Fantastic! Now what?

Shay went to a window in one of the bedrooms and pulled back the curtain, staring outside. The sun had dipped below the mountain and the darkness of the forest had begun to spread.

No way she was going out there. Not at night.

Dropping the curtain back into place, she faced the room. As she looked at the bed and imagined curling up beneath the blankets, exhaustion crashed over her. She’d walked for well over an hour in the heat, without water, without food—not to mention the traveling she’d done all day—and now her body demanded rest.

But first she wanted to take a shower. She stunk.

Sniffing her armpit, she nodded. Yep.

She set the nearly empty box of crackers on the dresser, but then the closet caught her eye. Curious if the contents would give her a clue as to who lived there, she slid open the door and took a peek. A couple of coats—large, like they belonged to a man. Several flannel shirts. No women’s clothes.

It was pretty apparent it was a man’s cabin.

For good measure she checked the other bedroom, but all it contained was a couch, and a desk covered with magazines—Sports Illustrated and Guns & Ammo.

Picturing a grizzled old man with a thick beard and missing teeth cleaning his gun as he watched sports, she silently prayed that he wouldn’t show up any time soon.

With a last look out the window to make sure no one had suddenly arrived, she found a clean towel in a linen closet and made her way to the bathroom.

The shower stall was surprisingly clean—much to her relief—and after a long, hot shower, she felt like a new woman. After drying off, she wrapped the towel around herself and went into the bedroom where she opened the window to let the cool night air in.

After bandaging her scraped knees and tender palms, she put her clothes back on, but put on one of the flannel shirts from the closet instead of her shirt, then she climbed under the covers and immediately fell asleep.

Two hours later a bright light penetrated her closed eyelids, startling her awake. Someone had turned on the overhead light. Heart racing, Shay froze.

“Who the heck are you?” A deep male voice demanded.