Page 32

Nine

ava

“Do you think they’re home?” My gaze lifted to the roofline. “The fire could have been lit last night and there’d still be smoke coming from the chimney.”

“Where would they go?” Kirby stared at the front window, but there’d been no twitch of curtains or approaching footsteps.

“I don’t know, but if living people were inside, wouldn’t they have seen us by now?”

Every crunch of gravel on the long driveway had pushed my heart rate up another notch. The front windows overlooked the road, giving them the clearest view. If anyone occupied the house, they’d had ten minutes or more to work out what to do about us.

“I’m surprised no one’s come out,” Luke said, keeping close.

The wind blew steadier up here, flapping the front of my fleece jacket. A chill moved through me, and I tucked my free hand inside my sleeve to keep it warm.

A low hedge ran along the front of the verandah, and a couple of brown ducks waddled freely, leaving splattered surprises for us to navigate in the overgrown grass.

On the right of the house, the gravel drive kept going, leading to the sheds at the rear. Two cars were parked on the grass beside the drive—an old ute that must have been used for getting around the farm, and a small blue sedan. Maybe, just maybe, we’d be leaving here in one of them.

“See that?” Luke gestured at the ute, where the surrounding grass was undisturbed. “Doesn’t look like it’s been anywhere in a few days.”

The blue sedan sat on flat ground, with fresh tyre tracks behind it and mud splattered on the wheel arches.

Kirby gripped her weapon and checked the front windows of the house. “Why does this have to be so creepy?”

“Need a minute?” Luke asked.

“No.” With a loud sigh, she swept her hair behind her ear, and the wind immediately dislodged it. “Let’s get this over with, and maybe we can thaw out here for a while.”

“Front or back?” I asked. Not that it mattered. If we knocked and got no answer, we were so far off the main road that no one would hear us breaking in.

“Come in the front door, guys.”

A prickle skated up my forearms, and I stopped breathing.

“Stay sharp,” Luke murmured, moving a step ahead of Kirby and me.

We faced the house together, each of us holding our weapons.

A man stood in the open doorway, his features shadowed by the verandah. He looked to be in his early thirties and lean, with a shaved head showing the first signs of stubble and a dark goatee. His jeans were bunched at the waist with a belt pulled tight, his tucked-in flannel shirt roomy in the shoulders.

He took in Luke’s nail gun, but our weapons didn’t appear to faze him.

“No need to sneak around,” he said. “I saw you coming up the driveway.”

Kirby swore under her breath.

No one else joined him in the doorway, and I heard no movement coming from inside the house.

I rested the head of the pickaxe on the ground, attempting to appear casual while my heart tried to jump out of my chest. “We were starting to think the place was empty.”

“Fair assumption.” He gave me a lightning-fast smile and stared past us toward the road. “So, what’s the go? Car trouble?”

Luke took his time answering. “You could say that.”

The man’s mouth tilted on one corner. “Easy guess. No one walks out this way for fun.” He stepped back and opened the door wider. “Want to come inside for a bit and get out of the cold?”

None of us moved, and my shoulders tensed.