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bright and all-consuming; I’m sure I’ve been spotted, that people are staring down at
me from above. I snap my gaze upward and see the back of a balding head pressed
against the window sill, a hand wrapped around his throat. I recognize the mayor’s
ring as it flashes in the dark, a gaudy ruby on his pinkie finger. The hand is squeezed
tight, but no one is looking down at me.
“You seem to forget, Traynor, that you are operating in my town, with my
permission, which makes me your boss. You would do well to remember that. I’d
hate to think that you’d do anything outside the scope of your employment.
Remember, while you are here, I own you. Do you understand this?”
Smoker—or Traynor, I guess—nods, unable to speak.
“Good,” the mayor says as he releases the other man’s neck. Traynor takes in a
gasping breath. “Besides, I’d hate to think of what my boss would do if you acted
without authorization. Doesn’t seem like a good idea for any of us. I will say, though,
that if there are any… issues with the boy, I believe getting permission to hunt him
down won’t be as hard as we all think. Until then, we watch. Is that understood?” “Yes, sir,” voices rumble in agreement.
“And you,” he says, though I can’t tell to whom he’s speaking. “I expect you to
keep a close eye out. Are we clear?”
A grunt of consent.
“Now, then, shall we check the maps? I’m sure there are plenty of places we
could look at should we have to move. Sheriff, would you do the honors?” The voices and footsteps fade as they start to move away. I release the breath I
hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
And then I run.
I don’t turn on the headlights until I’m almost back to Poplar Street. I consider,
for a moment, still trying to find Cal, but he could be anywhere. He could be gone, for all I know. If he’s going to come back, he’ll go to Little House and I need to return anyway to make sure no one else is there.
I pull up the driveway at almost two in the morning. Big House still stands. My mom’s little car is parked out front. I know the Trio’s vehicles are parked in back. The house is dark, no movement. There doesn’t seem to be anyone else around. I stop in front of the house, consider knocking on the door and waking them up, but then decide against it. Much, I’m sure, can be seen on my face at the moment, and I haven’t had time to process any of it. I put the truck in drive and head toward Little House.
The lights catch a flash, like animal eyes, on the roof.
Cal.
I release a trembling breath and grip the steering wheel, trying to ignore the
overwhelming relief I feel at finding him safe and sound. With so much else screaming through my head, I can’t even begin to understand why I feel such relief, or why I have to stop myself from tearing out of the Ford and demanding he stand before me so I can make sure he is okay. This is something I don’t yet comprehend, but it seems to be growing stronger.
I switch off the truck and open the door. I can feel his eyes boring into me as I lock it behind me. I glance up at him; his body is tense, his dark eyes bright with something I can’t quite make out. He seems rigid. His gaze follows me as I move to the ladder. I take a deep breath and start climbing. I look up when I get halfway. He’s not there, waiting to pull me up with him. I sigh and climb the rest of the way.
