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The first house Calla had burned to the ground.
According to the file, Noah Dean, that kid with the dark hair, the one with the not-broken arm, lived in the house with the rainbowed driveway.
Hunter was waiting for everyone to go to bed so he could break in and continue the interrogation.
He was waiting here, instead of somewhere else, in case Noah decided to leave.
Hunter’s cell phone buzzed, and he sighed.
So far, he’d ignored five text messages.
Two from Becca.
And three from Michael.
He hadn’t read any of them.
He glanced at his phone now, just out of idle curiosity. Another from Michael.
Where are you?
Hunter rolled his eyes and shoved the phone back in his pocket. Like Michael gave a crap. He probably wanted to know when Hunter was going to get his stuff out of the house so they could move on to the next city. Hunter had only one reason to go back to the Merrick house tonight: Casper.
Lights in the Dean house were slowly ticking off. Only a matter of time now.
But then the front door opened, and Hunter straightened.
Moonlight reflected on dark hair, a trash bag crinkled, and Hunter recognized his mark. He was out of the car in a heartbeat, creeping along the sidewalk.
Be a shadow, Hunter. Can you be a shadow?
It was one of the first things he’d learned from his father. He’d been six.
Noah Dean never saw him coming. Hunter had him on the ground between the houses before the kid could draw enough breath to scream.
He was fighting now, though, and his flailing foot caught a trash can.
Hunter bit back a curse and braced an arm against Noah’s neck, using enough pressure that the boy whimpered and froze.
“That’s better,” Hunter said.
Noah’s breathing was shaking. “My parents will know something is up. I was just taking out the trash.”
“You and your friends have been killing people. You think I give a crap about your parents?”
“They’ll call the cops—”
“Then maybe I should work faster, huh?” Hunter added another few pounds of pressure, until the boy’s eyes squeezed shut.
“What?” he cried. “What do you want?”
“I want to know where Calla is hiding. What you’re planning.”
“I don’t—I can’t—” The boy choked and gasped and squirmed under Hunter’s grip.
Hunter held him there for another minute, until the fear in the air was potent.
“If you think I won’t hurt you,” said Hunter, “you’re wrong.”
