around her as she moved cautiously through the trailer. She checked the Jalousie windows first, run- ning her fingers along the metal crank han- dles, testing the locks. Secure. She pressed the palm of her hand against the glass, ex- pecting coolness from the Florida night, but it was oddly icy to the touch. Frowning, she peeled back the curtain at the kitchen window and peered outside. The streetlamp cast a hazy amber glow over the quiet road, illuminating a row of neatly parked golf carts and the occasional flutter of palm fronds swaying in the gentle breeze. Nothing seemed out of place.
Chapter 3:
Echoes in the Breeze
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A whisper threaded through the stillness, so faint it barely broke the quiet. Kat jolted awake, her pulse hammering. The room was dark, the air around her sharp and biting. She sat motionless, her breath shallow, listening.
Nothing.
Just as she was about to convince herself it had been a dream, the whisper came again —soft, insistent. A woman’s voice, barely more than a breath.
Still, her unease lingered.
Kat exhaled, trying to steady herself. These old windows aren’t exactly soundproof, she reasoned. It must’ve been a neighbor. Some- one up too early, talking outside. She let the curtain fall back into place and shook her head, willing herself to let it go. Maybe the exhaustion was catching up to her, warping her senses. Maybe the trailer settling was to blame. Well, if her imagination was going to work overtime, what better time to start her novel? Still, as she padded to the dining nook, the whisper clung to the edges of her mind.
“The beds must remain.”
A chill that had nothing to do with the cold crawled over Kat’s skin. She shot upright, heart pounding against her ribs.
Not a dream.
Her hands gripped the blanket, her knuckles white in the dim glow from the streetlamp filtering through the blinds. The words clung to the air, their meaning elusive but urgent. She swallowed hard and forced herself to move. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, Kat flinched as the linoleum met her bare feet — ice-cold, as if the floor itself had been holding its breath. She reached for the thin robe draped over a chair, wrapping it tightly
And the cold refused to leave.
A short time later, the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee curled through the trailer, chasing away the lingering chill.
Kat settled into the dinette, wrapping her
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