She edged closer to the door again and called through the opening. “Hello? Is anyone home?”

No response.

Wiping her hands on her jeans, she leaned forward and peeked through the crack in the door.

The light she’d seen through the shades was dim, but it was sufficient to illuminate the large room.

The large empty room.

There wasn’t a lick of furniture in the place. No carpet or rugs broke the expanse of empty floor. The walls were bare.

The cottage was unoccupied.

But if that was the case, why hadn’t the owners locked the door?

A question without an answer, so no sense dwelling on it.

The more pressing issue was what to do next—retreat to the car or explore?

A blast of chilly air whooshed past.

No contest. If nothing else, this structure would offer more shelter and warmth than her car until the fog lifted.

She pushed the door wider and gave the inside a once-over. The glow she’d noticed came from a nightlight plugged into an outlet on the wall. Meaning the cottage had electricity.

Why, if it wasn’t occupied?

One more question without an answer.

She tiptoed into the large room to the right of the small foyer, where the light was. Hardwood floors covered the whole expanse, from the front of the house to the back. A large stone fireplace and mantel dominated the far wall, and logs were piled next to the hearth.

Odd.

After sweeping the beam of her flashlight around the room to confirm she was alone, Christi crossed to the fireplace. Logs were also laid on the grate, kindling tucked underneath, and a box of long matches rested on the hearth.

Logs that could provide warmth on this cold, damp night.

Dare she light them? Cuddle up in her blanket in front of the fire?

As she mulled over that bold move, she crept around the rest of the cottage. The small room on the other side of the foyer was also empty. Down the hall beside the stairway, and opening to the larger room with the fireplace, was a simple but adequate kitchen.

After returning to the foyer, she climbed the stairs to the second floor, which featured three dormer rooms—also empty. The largest one was finished and boasted another fireplace, but the two smaller ones lacked drywall taping, painting, and other finishing touches. Two full bathrooms complemented the half bath on the first floor, one of those also only partially finished.

The house appeared to be a work in progress—yet it didn’t feel as if the construction was recent. It was more like someone had started to build this cottage but never finished.

If the structure was abandoned, though, why were there logs in the grate, waiting to be set alight with the flick of a match?