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“I should have told you she took the gun.”
His father smiled, but there was an edge to it. “No, that one I understand. What did you learn about her?”
Hunter set his jaw and looked out the window, where sunlight was just beginning to crawl into the sky. “She was using me.”
“And what did Jay tell you about girls?”
Hunter rolled his eyes. “To use them first. That doesn’t even make sense. You want me to go through life using everyone I meet?”
“If it will keep you safe, yes, I do.”
Hunter didn’t say anything.
“Even last night,” said his father. “Even knowing she’d stolen from you. You wanted to help her. Didn’t you?”
“Who wouldn’t want to help her? Can’t you imagine what she must have been going through? Do you blame her?”
“She could have told you, Hunter. If she cared about you, if she trusted you, she would have. Jay was here in uniform last night. She could have told him.”
o;What’s it about?”
His dad leaned back in his chair. “It’s about what they can do.”
Hunter stared at him.
“Say I agreed, and I took you along as a decoy. You’re a teenager; you could fit right in.” He glanced in the file again. “Your mom’s folks even live right in the area. We wouldn’t have to think of an excuse for you to be there.”
“Yes,” said Hunter. “Yes. I’ll do it.”
“And what if you determined they were as powerful as these reports say? Could you kill them?”
Could he kill complete strangers? “If they were using their powers to hurt people, I would do what I had to.”
“What if they’re not using their powers to harm anyone?” said his father. “What if they’re good kids? Boy Scouts? What if they help people?”
Hunter swallowed. “Then . . . why would you kill them?”
His father smiled, a little sadly. “You’re not ready.”
“But—”
“Enough, Hunter. We have work to do.” He lost the smile. “And if I catch you spying again, you’re not going to like the results. Do you understand me?”
Hunter walked out and slammed the door behind him—before realizing he was probably driving his father’s points about immaturity home.
He went back to the kitchen and grabbed his backpack. He should probably put the weapons back before he got in trouble for that, too. He slammed the door to the basement, too, wanting to punch a hole in the drywall. He jammed the key into the gun locker door and punched the buttons, practically breaking a finger in his fury.
Only when he reached into his bag was he careful. He pulled the zipper free on the table and looked inside.
Then he kept on looking.
One gun and a fully loaded magazine were missing.
CHAPTER 4
Hunter wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like. The bag had been sitting in the corner of the kitchen all evening. Unless someone had broken in and stolen the gun in the last hour—while there was a police dog lying on the mat in front of the sink—then he’d either left the gun in the clearing or Clare had taken it.
He had no idea why Clare, someone who was obviously afraid of firearms, would take the weapon.
