“Fuck off, Trent, I’m trying to help.”
“Then look where nobody’s looking.”
“Okay, okay.” Her heart was spazzing. “Before you guys moved to Jersey, did Jake have any favorite spots around town? Hideouts, hangouts, anything?”
“Nothing nearby.” Trent lowered his light. He stank of nervous sweat. “Ash, if Jake gets pneumonia or something, I’m gonna—shit, I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”
“Calm down.” Ash squeezed his shoulder. “Think. Where did Jake and his friends hang out?”
“His cousins—Lauren’s nephews—live down the street. Jake used to play in the woods behind their house, but that’s too far off.”
“It’s walking distance.”
“Ash, he’s blind!”
“Right, he’s blind, not crippled.”
Trent shoved her back. “Fuck you, Ash. My son’s missing and you’re taking cheap shots at me. I don’t need this.” He stormed off.
Nearby, people scrambled among the townhouses, frantically checking between bushes and under porches. They yelled, they searched, they came up empty.
Her gut told her to check the cousins’ house and the woods beyond it. There were campsites out there, spots where, as a teenager, she’d experimented with everything from French kissing to Jim Beam. It wasn’t that far. If the kid found the sidewalk with his baseball bat, it was a straight shot to the end of the street.
She ran.
By the time she reached the house at the end of the street, she no longer heard people hollering. Doubt sunk into her stomach, but she pressed on.
The woods looked nothing like she remembered. Years ago, she used to party out here—high school keggers, clumsy hookups, the occasional scuffle. She thought she remembered her way around, but the once-familiar trails were now hidden by underbrush. Every time she followed a path, she soon lost it and found herself backtracking.
Finally she reached a familiar egg-shaped clearing. Her flashlight beam fell upon a set of faint footprints in the dirt. They led past a dead campfire, toward a rotted tree stump on the far end. Something caught her eye, and she jumped when she spotted a pale face lying in the underbrush.
“Jake!” She ran to him. As she got closer, her hopes crumbled. The face belonged to a toppled statue. Probably one stolen from the local church on a dare.
She checked the footprints. They led deeper into the woods. The only thing beyond this campsite was an old treehouse. As a little girl she used to play there with Trent and their friends. Back then they spent entire summer afternoons goofing off at the treehouse. If it still remained, it had to be in tatters.
Even so, it was worth a look.
A nearby deer trail led her into familiar territory. The air stank of soggy mud, and before long she heard faint splashing; the lower end of Snare Creek wasn’t far off. At this point she didn’t need light to guide her, just childhood instinct. It was simple. Follow the clicking waters, take a left at the oversized sycamore, and enter the treehouse clearing.
Sure enough, there it was.
Looking up, she saw the treehouse suspended in the early dark. It hung there like a sad memory, the shadows working hard to disguise its age. A lifetime ago, it had felt like a vast cabin that could house every kid in the neighborhood. Now it looked no larger than a discarded cardboard box.
Following her phone’s light, she approached the tree. Boards nailed to the trunk served as a ladder. She pocketed her phone and pressed her toe on the bottom board. One-handed climbing proved awkward, but her head soon poked above the floorboards.
“Jake?” She squinted into the darkness. “You here?”
No reply.
Fuck.
Then came a scratching sound. Could be the wind. She grabbed her phone. Shining its light, she spotted an old burn mark on the back wall. The wood around it had rotted to an ugly gray color. She tilted the light downward on a bright red Phillies jacket.
“Jake!” She laughed with relief. “Holy shit, the whole town’s looking for you.”
The kid stood. Said nothing. He walked toward her, his bat stretched outward.
“Let’s go,” she said. “Come on, your dad’s worried. He—”
A whoosh cut through the air. Then the floor smashed right in front of her. Splinters flew. In a panic, Ash shifted backward. Lost her balance.
For a moment, she was in freefall, her stomach rising.
Then she landed. Hard. Her tailbone caught the worst of the impact. As the pain registered, her momentum whipped her shoulders backward, slamming her head against the dirt. A nauseating dizziness flooded her.
“Ah…fuck.”
“Leave me alone!” Jake yelled. “I’m not going back.”
Ash sat up, gently reaching between her dreads to feel the back of her head. It stung. She winced. When she stood, her tailbone throbbed. She drew breath through clenched teeth.
“Go away!” Jake smashed his bat against the treehouse floor.
“Cut that out!” she snapped. “You almost cracked my head open, you little shit!”
“I don’t care!”
“Well you should! Fuck!” As the pain faded, she realized yelling at the kid wouldn’t help. It only gave him an excuse to act up. Time for a new strategy. “Listen, tough guy. I’ll give you a pass this time. I’m normally pretty ruthless, but if you come down, I’ll let you off easy.”
“I’m staying here!”
“Fine, then.” She scooped up her phone. “I’ll call your dad.”
“Wait, don’t!” The anger in his voice shifted to worry. “I don’t want him here. This is my spot.”
Ash snickered despite her pain. His spot. How cute. Like he’s marked it with his piss or something. “Your spot, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re wrong. This has been my treehouse since before you were born.”
“No it hasn’t.”
“Sure has.” She approached the ladder. The boy turned his head and squatted, evidently listening as she drew closer. The bat trembled in his two-handed grasp. She aimed her light behind him. “You can’t see it, but there’s a burn mark on the back wall.”
He paused. “I remember that mark. You put it there?”
“Yep. Tried burning down the treehouse once.”
“What? Why?”
“Didn’t want to give it up. We used to play this game called Kings and Killers—me, your dad, and some kids from town. First one to climb the treehouse became king. Then the others would try to climb up and kill the king. We quit playing after I pushed your dad out one time.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, broke his wrist.”
Jake’s nose wrinkled. “My dad’s stupid. My mom, too. They keep treating me like I’m too dumb to flush a toilet.”
“That why you ran off?”
“Yeah.” He frowned. “And my dad wouldn’t let me talk to you.”
“We can go back now and talk.”
“I don’t wanna go back.” Jake took a seat at the edge, his legs dangling. He tapped the bat against the ladder. “Ever since I went blind, it’s like everyone thinks I’m dead or something. Like I’m not me anymore.”