four
CALISTA
I pull into the driveway of the address on the note. The trees surrounding the house are thick and it resembles what I pictured when my mom used to read me Hansel and Gretel when I was young—a small cabin set in the woods in the middle of nowhere.
Parking in the gravel driveway, I secure the key in my palm and start up the brick walkway toward the front door that is painted a pretty sky blue. The top of the door is rounded with a circular window at the top. The mat at my feet reads, “Hello. Now go away.” I chuckle, wondering what the hell is going on. If I walk in there and Grandma Dori is on the couch because she faked her death, I may lose my mind.
I unlock the door then slowly turn the handle, opening the door. I release a relieved breath when I don’t find an axe murder
