To anyone wanting to start one, I recommend getting background checks done. I know it’s not ideal, in fact, it’ll probably push a lot of business away, but you have no idea who might be using your property for their own malicious activities. Even if- especially if, the customer contacting you uses Airbnb’s all the time and is rated extremely well. It might just be because they work very hard at being a good customer, earning positive credits and leaving good impressions so renters won’t suspect anything. It all started a couple of years ago when an elderly gentleman requested the use of my cabin for the weekend.
He had been a member of the app since nearly its start. Everything about his profile and message to me was very sweet. A retired lawyer traveling the country using Airbnb. He mentioned in his profile that he liked to do woodworking. During his stay, he’d build small things like birdhouses, wooden fixtures, or knick-knacks as a hobby. He even acknowledged it in his message, saying he was very clean and would remove any wood dust or shavings but, noted that if I didn’t want him doing it, he would understand and just enjoy his stay at the cabin. I told him it was fine so long as he cleaned up, and he didn’t disappoint. Though I never heard him make anything or use tools, he stayed for the weekend and pretty much deep-cleaned the entire cabin. I felt almost embarrassed; it was cleaner than any customer, or I for that matter, had ever left it.
He used the cabin more than once, maybe ten times in the last two years. We only spoke a few times, but he seemed nice. He was always gone before I was awake on check-out day. I’d know he’d left when his covered truck would be gone. I only heard him use a power tool on his first stay, a saw or perhaps a drill, but never again after that. I would see him carrying paint to and from the truck now and then. Slept during the day; did his hobbies at night, and he’d always leave a generous review detailing the view of the lake and the comfort of the cabin. Quiet guy but was always a guaranteed five-star review and free cleaning. He always mentioned how pretty the lake was.
“It’s beautiful, Lucy. And you don’t ruin it with boating or swimming? It’s perfect. Instead of disrupting such a peaceful area with my sawing and drilling, I’ll use my time here to paint what projects I already have done!”
That we could agree. The lake was special to me. It wasn’t very big, not for boats at least and the algae kept people from swimming in it, and I liked that. It was untouched by human invasion and was most naturally vibrant. I could stare at it for hours. I decided not to keep it to myself and opened this small cabin beside it as an Airbnb, so everyone could enjoy it. When people are here, I’m sure to let them know they don’t have to be a stranger and can come say hi, but I’ll leave them alone in case they just want a private getaway. I’ll get couples on vacation or honeymoon, a single person just trying to get away from it all, and on occasion, a few twenty-somethings wanting to party. It was business as usual, until a girl staying by herself one weekend told me she heard something in the cabin.
“It was strange, and I don’t mean to be rude, but it sounded like- a shuttering noise. Like a camera.”
I was immediately taken aback. I have no cameras or security besides locks on the door and windows, so we went down there together. We checked every inch of the small cabin and even stood in silence, waiting for the sound to happen again. No cameras shuttering or lenses flashing, but I reassured her I would never spy on people and offered a partial reimbursement for her discomfort. She seemed to believe me and apologized, unsure if she had heard anything at all. Then suddenly, at about two in the morning, she left. I checked the cabin in the morning, but everything seemed fine. I expected a horrible review the following week, but no review was posted. Instead, what I saw was worse; her name in the newspaper a week later, she was reported missing.
An interview with the police and her father stated that she went missing on May 7th, a week after her stay at my cabin.
“She called me up after leaving a cabin she rented last weekend, said she felt like she was being watched. We talked about it; thought maybe she might be smoking too much of the green stuff but called me a day or so later and said she still felt like someone was watching her. At her apartment now. I told her she could come stay with us, but she said she’d be fine. Then I didn’t hear from her for a while and when I went to go check on her, the apartment was empty”
The article continued to detail how the door was forced open and signs of struggle showed a clear kidnapping. My hands trembled the newspaper in front of me. Our small town never received news like this. I set the paper down and started to brew a pot of tea, praying they would find that sweet girl. I took the steaming cup of tea down to the cabin and sat on a bench by the lake. I glared at the cabin, wondering if I should go look around. I think the article really got to me. I thought about finishing the rest of the newspaper, but I feared it would make me sick to see that headline again. I looked over the water instead, taking in the view of the small lake and surrounding forest. No one besides me knew, but when the morning sun hit the water just right, you could see right through to the bottom of the lake. A collection of beautiful reflective rocks would shine the dancing light back to the surface. It’s what drew me to buy the property in the first place. It was so peaceful.
Over the next dozen months, tenants came and left, but the cases of missing persons grew. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Our small forest community was having a real issue. Thirteen people went missing from our area. I began to take matters into my own hands and messaged a collection of Airbnb renters in town. Maybe I was being a nosey neighbor with too much time on their hands, but I thought someone might have seen something. I started a conversation on messenger with everyone, but no one had anything to report.
The last people to use my cabin were a group of college kids spending the weekend partying. They were a bit loud, playing music I didn’t understand and shouting all sorts of things, but I gave no complaint. Sometimes a quiet place needs a bit of excitement to better appreciate its normally peaceful setting. I woke the next morning and sat on my porch, steam rolling off a cup of tea cusped in my hands. The cabin was quiet and a couple of tents were pitched outside. A few loose red cups lay scattered by the firepit. The sun was just beginning to rise over the trees.
“CHELSEA!!!”
I jumped in my seat, spilling hot tea on my lap. One of the boys walked out of the forest, visibly disheveled and panicking. I stood, wiping off my pants, and called out to him.
“Hey, everything okay? I run the Airbnb here, you kids alright?”
“No! No we- we can’t find her.”
My heart sunk. A chilling tone escaped his exhausted breath. He must have been looking in the woods for several minutes, if not hours. Another guy stepped out from the brush opposite, farther down the driveway.
“Anything? Matt?”
“No man, I- we should call the police or something. It’s been way too long.”
I rushed into the house and grabbed my phone. Dialing 911, I walked back onto the porch and was promptly greeted by the two young men.
“Hey, where is she? We’ve heard people have gone missing here, is she inside?!”
I shook my head, startled, and stood aside, letting the frustrated young man into my home. The operator answered and I told her my address and what had happened. From inside I could hear things being moved around, between shouts for Chelsea. The other kid on my porch apologized for his friend’s behavior. From the cabin walked up a girl, holding a phone to her ear.
“Jake, I’m calling the police. it’s been like three hours and I’m getting super worried”
Her voice quivered. Jake gestured to the girl to come up to the porch and pointed at me.
“She’s already calling the police. Let’s just calm Matt down, he’s starting to freak out.”
After speaking to the operator, I hung up the phone and asked the kids to come inside and tell me what had happened. We stepped in and the angrier one, Matt, saw his friends and relaxed a bit. I put on some tea, and they explained they heard some noises from Chelsea’s tent at around two or three in the morning. They assumed she had gotten up to grab something from the car or use the restroom inside the cabin, but when she never returned, they checked the tent. It was left open and, things didn’t look right. It was a mess; all the blankets were tossed, and things were scattered. The two sleeping in the cabin said they never heard her come in.
The cops arrived and the kids talked them through everything. It was then that I learned that Matt’s cousin had been added to the missing list a few months ago. A girl on the other side of town, taken right from her campus dorm. His friends told him everything would be okay. That this camping trip would be good for him. I helped the best I could, but I didn’t know what else to do. Officers walked the perimeter of my land, checking every tree, hole, and hill. An officer dressed in waders walked into the lake, skimming the surface and under algae for any sign of Chelsea. When the police asked for security footage, I told them I don’t have any cameras on the premises. I’ve never had to before; our community wasn’t like that.
“You’re right, it wasn’t. But it is now” the officer said.
Once the news got out, and the rather unflattering review from the kids was posted, my cabin became quite unappealing. I looked back at the group chat that night with the other Airbnb owners and they were all a buzz. It was like they forgot I was the one who started the group chat in the first place.
“I can’t believe it!”
“If that were my place, it’d be finished”
“Do you think she did it? The owner?”
“OMG, could you imagine!”
Do you think she did it? Really?! I was mortified! I couldn’t believe what I was reading. I quickly typed a message.
“Hey, guys! Lucy here, I can’t believe what happened either. I’m still in shock myself and I hope they find that girl!”
Post.
The thread went silent. I could see chat bubbles begin typing, then stop. One by one the profile bubbles dropped down, showing that people had seen my comment. But no one said anything. Overwhelmed, I put the phone down and cried. I couldn’t imagine how people might think I’d do something like that. It took nearly the whole night to calm myself down. I had to remember that I never met those other owners before, and they don’t know me either. It’s just a scary news headline, a worried community, and the fact that I started the group chat. And- that girl was taken here. At my cabin. I didn’t look at my phone for the rest of the night. I had a cup of tea and went to bed.
A couple of weeks went by and not one person was interested in renting the cabin. I couldn’t blame them, who would want to stay at a cabin where someone went missing? Except- the old man. I didn’t ask him if he heard what happened, I just left him alone to tend to his hobbies. Until night, when I was woken by his truck. The sound of an engine revving sprang me out of sleep and when I looked out the window, I saw he had gotten stuck trying to go around the lake. I was so confused, and kind of upset. I ran outside and yelled at him, a bit assertively, what he thought was doing driving all over the mud and grass. He slammed the gas, forcing his truck out of the dirt, and drove toward the house; stopping at the driveway. I stormed up to his truck but stepped back when he shouted from his window.
“Mind your own business, yah old bag, before I make you take a dunk in the lake!”
He peeled off and raced down the driveway. A nearly 6-foot stitched bag used for collecting wood dust flew from the flailing rear of the truck. I watched as he left, then quickly went inside. I told the police what had happened but since he didn’t damage anything or hurt anyone, they focused their attention on the missing people. They asked if I wanted a squad car sent out but, they were right. I’d rather have them trying to find those poor girls. I checked the cabin. It seemed fine, besides tire tracks all over the yard, so I went back inside and tried to relax. But my thoughts spiraled.
Anxiety took the best of me, and I paced around the house. I needed to calm down, so I walked down to the lake. Sitting on the bench, without a cup of tea, I watched the sunrise. I knew these woods inside and out. I grew up in this area all my life; I hated whoever was doing this to our community. To my community. To my land, lake, and my cabin. The cabin and lake that I wasn’t ready to say- to say, I don’t feel safe in anymore. I tucked my head into my hands and cried. It was true. I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t feel safe. I walked back to the house, defeated. Picking up the phone, my mind wandered trying to think of the name of the realtor who sold me the house; when I noticed the group chat had blown up.
Someone else went missing, and at an Airbnb in town. The owner, Michelle, explained that a couple was staying and on the second night, someone broke in. The husband was murdered, and the wife was taken. But police had a lead this time. After checking the small rental, they found something in the bedroom.
“I never noticed it before, so I pointed it out to the cops, and they just cracked it open!”
Inside a wooden bookend placed on a shelf in the living room, was a small camera and mic. The only reason they found it was because the owner didn’t recognize the decorative piece. The cops asked her for a list of past tenants and since she was a new renter, of about five months, she only had thirteen visits. But one guy stood out. An elderly gentleman who liked to do woodworking.
“He said he just makes random things while staying so I didn’t think anything of it when I heard him working on something.”
Everyone started to comment.
“I had a guy like that. He was quiet and very nice.”
“Yeah. Retired lawyer, right? He cleaned the whole place for like 3 hours before he left. It was weird”
“Retired, yeah, but he said he was a doctor, not a lawyer”
“Guys. I don’t remember putting this up in my rental…”
After so many comments and connecting stories, someone posted a picture. A birdhouse on a tree, facing the bedroom window of their rental. Countless comments rolled in pleading them to either call the police or just open the birdhouse. The owner posted another picture, and all the chat bubbles stopped. No one commented anything and we all stared at our phones in disbelief. A camera, inside the birdhouse. Not obvious either but planted in a hidden compartment in the bottom, so birds could still nest, disguising it better. A cold feeling rushed over me, as I’m sure it did with everyone in the thread. I broke the silence, demanding everyone’s urgency.
“Listen up! Everyone go and check your properties, right now. Light fixtures, ornaments, pictures, and anything wooden. If you see something out of place, bring it to the police station. I’ll meet everyone there in an hour!”
All the chat bubbles dropped to my comment, and I slammed my phone on the coffee table. I ran out to my property and began tearing it apart. I couldn’t find anything and I even broke multiple furnishings in the process. I was confident I had bought everything in there, but just to be sure I broke all of it. An hour passed and I decided to head to the police station. I walked past a small gathering of people holding knick-knacks, clocks, and just small cameras in general. Everyone had been bugged. The police connected every Airbnb owner the elderly man. We all had him as a tenant. Every single Airbnb owner in our small community had been visited by this man. None of us could believe it. We exchanged looks, information, and greetings. We all felt connected by this occurrence and our group chat was a bonding of support. I told them how I never found anything and so a few came by to help me look. But still, we found nothing.
The police informed us later that the old man was using a fake name. They never found any information on him or his whereabouts. He must travel the country doing this kind of stuff. He would listen in on people, on- girls he liked, and if they mentioned their address or when they would be alone while talking to someone on the phone or something, he’d make note of it. Then, he’d stop by while they were sleeping and, take them. The police said he got so confident, or crazy, that he started showing up even when other people were around. Like he did with my cabin or Michelle’s, where he murdered someone. The police told us they would put out a nationwide search for the man, and any name he used. As for our Airbnb community, it was done for. No one wanted to stay in a town where a bunch of people went missing. But all became friends and continued conversation on the group chat. The only thing we couldn’t understand is why he never left something at my place. Or why he only visited my cabin multiple times.
It’s been a couple of months since then. As for the cabin, I took it off Airbnb. Then tore it down. I wanted to inspect every inch for some sort of listening device but found nothing. Nothing struck me as weird until I started taking down the cabin’s structure. There was a gap in the walls between the bathroom and the bedroom. It was large enough that a person could fit but was used for maintaining pipes and wires running throughout the cabin. What was strange about it was a three-foot-tall cutout, on the outside of the cabin leading into the maintenance gap. You wouldn’t know unless you push on exactly the right spot, as it was cut with precision and hidden on purpose. Someone had been in there, making it accessible to come and go as they please. A small box for sitting, particles of food littering the floor, and a thin hand saw set on a wooden joint. He must have used this to make the hole; carefully and quietly, so as not to raise suspicion. And on either side of the walls were makeshift peepholes that would discreetly open into the bathroom or living room. Just large enough for an eye; or a camera. I had an officer come out to see the hidden compartment and add it to the case file. I also updated the group chat with pictures so people could lookout for the same thing, then I tore down the remainder of the cabin.
Once the last board dropped, I moved the bench to the other side of the lake so I could take in a different view. It wasn’t much, but it helped me forget what happened here. Even if for a moment. I wasn’t going to let this ruin my lake. My home. The beauty and calmness of this body of water would never be tarnished. So, I walked a little further with my cup of hot tea and sat beside the lake. I waited patiently as the sun rose over the lush trees. A blanket draped over my cold shoulders, I felt the warmth of the sun kiss my face and was reassured that the lake would make me smile once again. The sun washed over the water’s surface and the bottom of the lake unveiled itself. Dozens of beautiful rocks glistened a rainbow of lights at me, and multiple bags, of a similar color to the rocks, obstructed the vibrant colors. The fabric of the bags were crudely painted to blend in with the rocks, making them hardly noticeable. From this side of the lake, when the light hit just right, you couldn’t miss them. My tea grew cold as I stared for what felt like hours at my beautiful lake, filled with the bodies of missing people from our community.