Page 27 of Auctioned to the Devil

Mattress lifted.

Closet searched.

They wanted something.

I clear every room before returning outside.

Emily is standing beside the Jeep.

I stop on the porch.

“What part of lock the doors was confusing?”

“The part where you’re not my father.”

“Thank Christ for that.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. I don’t bother taking it back.

Her gaze flicks down my body and back up.

There’s that flush again. Even now.

Jesus.

“Can I go inside?”

“No.”

“Caleb.”

“There’s broken glass everywhere.”

“I have shoes.”

“The useless ones?”

She glares.

I almost smile.

“Fine. Stay behind me.”

We walk inside.

Her attitude disappears.

“Oh my God.” She stops.

I watch her take in the damage.

Her grandfather’s photographs are scattered across the floor. Old books ripped from shelves. Boxes overturned.

She crouches and picks up a framed photograph of her grandpa.

Emily looks about twelve in it, skinny as hell, grinning beside him while holding a fish barely bigger than her hand.

Her fingers trace the cracked glass.