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Manny’s eyes popped wide. “What the hell? Is this what you meant when you said you were prepared?”
Mr. Lott handed them each a pair of the gloves. “Partially, yes. I came prepared for, hopefully, every eventuality. Suit up, boys.”
They obeyed, grimacing as they gloved up. The gloves were made for someone with much smaller hands.
Mr. Lott pushed the door open with one finger. There was more blood on the laundry room floor, but it was smeared, like someone tried to wipe it away then gave up.
“Towels are missing,” Xavier said quietly. “I folded them yesterday morning before I met you for breakfast, Carlos. They were still here last night.”
“Your intruder has lost some blood,” Mr. Lott said, sounding pleased. “We can check the local hospitals later. Your spare room is upstairs?”
Xavier nodded. “First door on the right.”
They walked up the stairs, keeping to the far left because the right was where all the blood was. Xavier glanced at Manny, who’d retrieved his handgun from his waistband and now clutched it in a white-knuckled grip.
Xavier patted his pocket, making sure his own gun was still there. But of course it was. It was so heavy that it was dragging his jeans down and so bulky that there was a visible lump under his shirt, even though he wore it untucked.
He wished his father had bought a smaller gun. Although he’d been grateful for it last night.
Especially now that he knew that he hadn’t completely killed the bastard. Who was trying to kill me.
The spare room looked almost normal. Except for the window that remained open, the curtains fluttering in the morning breeze.
And, of course, except for the pool of blood staining his mother’s carpet.
“That’s never coming out, is it?” he asked.
“I know a guy who can replace the carpet,” Carlos said, patting Xavier’s shoulder.
Xavier leaned on Carlos. “I have to call my mom.”
“We will,” Mr. Lott promised. “I want to check out the rest of the rooms first. He may have left something behind that’ll tell us who he was or maybe who sent him.”
Xavier just wanted to leave. To walk out the door and call his mother—on Carlos’s phone because he’d been too afraid to turn his on.
I just want this to be over.
But he didn’t think that was going to happen anytime soon.
“Is this your room, Xavier?” Mr. Lott called from his bedroom doorway.
“Yes. Why? What’s wrong?” Xavier hurried to his room, but nothing looked amiss.
“Nothing. It doesn’t look like he came in here. Why don’t you pack a few things?”
Xavier brushed past him, feeling... weird.
But that was to be expected, right?
Of course it was. Everything had been weird since yesterday morning.
At least I wasn’t imagining things. Someone really was trying to get me.
Maybe they still are.
He opened his drawer, unsurprised to see that Carlos had found his duffel bag. Together they stuffed it full. “Take extra underwear, man,” Carlos whispered. “Because if yours are still clean from last night, I’ll be amazed.”
Xavier snorted a laugh. “Shut up, pendejo,” he said affectionately. He zipped the duffel and grabbed his backpack. “We’re ready, Mr. Lott.”
