As bright light lit up the small space, Curtis whistled at what was inside. “Ho-lee crap.”
There was a 1990s-era Camaro parked inside, blue with black racing stripes down the hood and spotlessly clean. It was in perfect condition, and it was enough to make any car collector salivate. But that wasn’t what Curtis was whistling at. He was staring at the rear wall of the garage. Shyla had an arsenal stored there, enough guns to start a small revolution. Pistols. Revolvers. Hunting rifles. Shotguns. Nearly every brand was represented, from Glock, Ruger, and Smith & Wesson to Winchester, Bushmaster, and Armalite. Some were antiques; others were gleaming, black, and new. Lisa counted four AR-15s.
“Come on, sweeties, dinnertime,” Shyla called, as she began scooping out Science Diet for at least a dozen cats who crowded around her legs and pushed and shoved at the bowls.
“Wow,” Lisa said.
“Yeah, I’m a crazy cat lady—what can I say?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What, the car? I know; it’s a beaut. My uncle was a collector. He left me the Camaro, too. Honestly, I don’t use it much myself. I’m not really into cars.”
Curtis interjected. “The car’s cool, but did he also leave you the guns?”
Shyla looked over her shoulder at the wall and then shrugged, as if she’d forgotten the guns were there. “Oh, that. No, those babies are all mine. I guess I have enough, but I keep buying more. After what I went through, I’m not taking any chances. My parents think it’s overkill, but let me tell you, if anyone ever comes after me again, they are in for one big-ass surprise.”
19
Hours later, as the night crept closer to morning, Lisa lay in bed in the perfect darkness. There wasn’t a light anywhere inside or outside. It was disorienting to be in a strange house and a strange bed and not be able to see anything at all. The rain had begun to freeze after midnight, tapping on the window glass like the fingernails of someone wanting to come inside. And yet despite all that, she was at peace for a brief moment. She felt secure here, at least for a little while, where no one could find them. Her stomach was full; Shyla’s soup had been hearty and delicious, and the soup had been followed by homemade peach pie. She could feel the warmth of at least three cats sharing the bed near her feet.
Next to her, Purdue whispered in a tiny little voice. “Are you awake, Lisa?”
“Yes.”
“Me too.”
“You should try to get more sleep. We have a long day ahead.”
“I tried. I can’t.”
“Is everything okay? Did you remember something more?”
“No. It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?” Lisa asked.
“We shouldn’t be here,” Purdue said.
“Where? Here in this house?”
“No, not the house. I like Shyla. But I don’t like this place. There’s something about the whole town. We’re not safe here, Lisa. This is where the bad things happened. I can’t remember all of it, but I’m sure it happened right here.”
Lisa was quiet for a while. “Well, don’t worry—we’ll get out of here as soon as we can. We’ll go somewhere else that’s safe. Once it’s light, we’ll get on the plane, and we’ll leave Thief River Falls behind.”
“I don’t think so. I think you’re wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s just a feeling I have,” the boy said. “I don’t think I’ll ever leave Thief River Falls.”
Lisa chewed on her lip to keep away the sadness. It wasn’t right, hearing those words from a boy so young. She wanted to say something to comfort him, but she realized that she was the one who needed comfort. Purdue didn’t sound upset or afraid of what he was saying. He was a serious boy thinking about serious things. She was the one who was terrified by what was out there for him.
She reached over and stroked his hair. “You know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think we should have more pie.”
She heard Purdue giggle in the darkness.
Lisa got out of bed. The hardwood floor was cold. She hunted for her shoes and then slipped her feet into them. She found her clothes, which had dried on the radiator during the night, and she put them on. She felt her way in the darkness across the small bedroom to the closed door and then let herself out into the hallway. The house wasn’t big. There was another bedroom adjacent to this one for Curtis and then Shyla’s bedroom in the corner. That was all.
She headed for the kitchen, stepping carefully to avoid several cats sleeping in her path. She could hear the rumble of snores and purrs. A streetlight near the river cast enough light to help her make out the furniture around her. A clock glowed on the microwave; it was just past five in the morning. She went to the refrigerator, but before she opened the door, she stopped.
Through the rear door in the kitchen, she saw a pinprick light in the backyard. She squinted to see it better. The light danced like a firefly, appearing and disappearing near the trees, and she realized it was the glow of a cell phone screen. Someone was outside, pacing back and forth in the cold.
She couldn’t see who it was.
Lisa backed away from the door. Instinctively, she looked around the kitchen for something she could use to defend herself, and she found a heavy stone pestle from a mortar and pestle set, like a miniature baton. She clutched it in her hand and then retraced her steps through the house to the bedroom where Curtis was sleeping. If she was going outside, she wanted backup.
She drummed her fingers lightly on the door. “Curtis?”
There was no answer, and she knocked again with the same result. With a slight hesitation, she twisted the knob and opened the bedroom door. Inside, she called his name again, louder, but still got no answer. She felt around the wall for the light switch and turned it on, and she was temporarily blinded by the brightness. When she could see again, she spotted empty, rumpled sheets on the twin bed.
Curtis was gone.
Lisa didn’t understand. Where was he? Then she relaxed a little as she thought, It’s him. He’s the one outside. He’s talking to Laurel.
She went back to the house’s rear door, which she opened quietly. Cold air whistled through the crack. Outside, there was no moon, no stars, just clouds, so she couldn’t be seen. When she took one careful step, she felt a sheet of ice under her feet. The porch was slick from a wave of freezing rain. She held on to the railing and took it an inch at a time as she made her way down to the back lawn.
Ice had formed there, too, and it broke like glass as she walked on it. She went slowly to avoid making noise, at least until she was absolutely sure it was Curtis in the yard. She still had the stone pestle in her hand. Not far away, the light of the cell phone moved back and forth near the trees, and a man’s voice rose above the icy patter of the rain. His tone was hushed and agitated. She recognized the voice and felt a wave of relief.
It was Curtis.
Then her relief evaporated as she got close enough to hear what he was saying.
“No! No, you can’t send anyone over here. This woman has a damned armory in her garage. I’m sure there are guns inside the house, too. It’s way too risky. Lisa’s obsessed with this boy, and she’s determined to rescue him. If you confront her about it directly, this thing could turn into a firefight, and nobody wants that. You have to be patient.”