But the sound of the door opening kills that fantasy real quick.
“Miss Iverson?” the deputy’s voice is deep and unrecognizable. I can’t see the guy, but just based on his tone, my guess is he’s young.
“That’s me,” Rue answers, albeit reluctantly. “What can I do for you?”
“We were just stopping by to inform you about an incident at the neighbor’s place.”
“Which neighbor?” Rue rushes to respond, and I furrow my brow. Rue only hasoneclose neighbor within a quarter mile… And that’s my old place.
“The Wilsons,” the deputy answers without judgment. “Martha Wilson reported seeing a man in the loft of her barn this morning, but we couldn’t locate him. We did find a set of boot prints, which confirmed her story.”
Rue is silent for a minute, and I risk another glance. Her soft jaw is set, her lips pressed together in a flatline, eliminating the volume entirely. I can’t tell how she’s feeling.
And obviously, neither can the deputy.
“We just wanted to make everyone aware,” the deputy’s voice fills the gap. “Sometimes we have drifters around here, and the occasional illegal hunter. The fact he didn’t attack Mrs. Wilson makes us believe that he’s not much of a threat. He’s probably already moved along.”
I guess they haven’t been made aware of my prison bust.
Or maybe they just don’t think I’d end up here again.
That relieves some of the tightness in my chest, giving me a little hope that maybe this town has forgotten my face, at least.
“Do you happen to know what he looked like?” Rue asks, her voice maintaining that same eerie calmness that it had when she spoke to the dog.
“Uh…” The deputy pauses before continuing. “The description was pretty vague. Just a man, probably over six feet, had a dark beard, athletic build but not skinny. Had on jeans, boots, and a dark coat.”
“Well, that’s almost any man in this town,” Rue states the obvious, her voice sounding almost annoyed. “But why would someone be in the woods this time of year? It’s freezing.”
“I don’t know.” The deputy sounds like he’s caught off guard.
Rue has that way about her.
“Okay, well, thanks for the information,” she says with a sigh. “I’ll keep it in mind, if I go outside or whatever.”
“Again, I don’t want to scare you,” he urges.
“I’m not,” she snaps, and then moves to close the door. “Have a good day, Deputy.” As soon as it clicks shut, she lets out a massive breath, as if the man just fully ruined her day. She angles her body toward Bullet, who’s sitting and staring up at her.
“At least they didn’t come for me,” she says, her voice barely audible. “I swear, I hate being in this stupid fucking town. It makes me feel like I’m going crazy.”
“Rue! Come tell me what the police had to say.”
“Okay.” Rue angles her body toward the hall, and then starts toward the bathroom.
“Was it about the escapee?”
Rue freezes mid-step. “What? What escapee?”
“Oh, nothing,” her mom quickly replies. “Tell me what he had to say.”
I lean my head back against the wall, my stomach rolling as Rue starts in about the drifter in Martha Wilson’s barn.
I tune it out, my brain still swimming with the knowledge that Rue’s mother has—and is withholding. Someone knows I’m out, and I have noideawhyshe’s keeping that information from her daughter.
There has to be some ulterior motive behind it.
Because I know for damn sure, it’s not out of the kindness of her heart.
