After a few minutes, they rounded a corner and the house came into view with the hilltops poised behind it. The brown of the stained wood stood out in sharp contrast to the white of the snow. A large, open deck ran around three sides of the house, and the south side was a wall of glass. The windows on the west were lit up in fiery red and orange with the reflection of the sun.

“Those windows will let in the heat in the winter, and there’s a big wood stove too,” Hank said. “Keeps the place pretty toasty, I guess. The inside’s mostly open so the heat circulates. Makes for a nice look too. Little bit of heaven, she is. You look for a nicer spot, you won’t find a one. These woods are just the quietest spots around too. Of, course, you got to watch your little ones. Last family here lost their little girl; they never found her. Woods run back ‘bout forty miles some places.”

“You said they just lost her?”

“Wandered off. Couldn’t stand to stay around here after that, so they just up and left. That’s why the house is open now. Sorry, thought you knew. Terrible shame, it was, but these things just happen sometimes. Why, my brother lost a dog just the other day…”

Hank continued to ramble along, but David shut him out. Just lost her? Jesus Christ. This place gives me the fucking creeps.

“…and then I says, Bobby, you know you got to shoot her. Broken legs, they might as well pack it in.” Hank grinned, exposing two large, darkened front teeth.

They had come to a stop, and David got out slowly, staring at the fiery red windows. The happy feeling he had watching the mountains and the woods was gone, just like that, and dark, worried thoughts worked their way around in his head. He imagined Jessie wandering off into the woods, the cold working at her, calling for her daddy and nobody would come—

Hank slid across the seat and jumped down beside him. “Worried about the little one? All you got to do is scare ‘em a bit, then they won’t go into those woods.

Me, I tell my kids about the bogeyman, how he lives out there in the dark, waitin’ for them to wander out alone. It’s a bit hard on ‘em, but sometimes you gotta do things you don’t like. My boy won’t leave the front yard for weeks, works every time. Every time.”

“I don’t know, Hank,” David said. He had started walking slowly forward, drawn by the red in the windows, by the dark wood and white snow. His skin tightened and he felt a chill. The house stared back at him, silent in the swiftly deepening twilight. Almost as if it has eyes.