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The kid glances at her, and then watches me in the rearview mirror as I walk around the back of the truck. Wide eyes focus reluctantly on me when I come up to his window. He stares at me through the glass until I twirl my finger in the air, and then bites the inside of his cheek as he slowly winds down the window.
I lean in, arms crossed on the door. “You’ve been kind, and I appreciate that.”
“N-No problem, mister.” He gives me a weak little smile. “Least I could do.”
“I know. Unfortunately, I need more.”
My hand snakes in, grabs the back of his head, and slams it forward into the steering wheel. He crumples without a sound, and Arrow shifts to the side to avoid him falling against her. Then she watches me with her big, patient brown eyes as I open the door and drag the kid out of the cab.
He’s already starting to come around again, his eyes fluttering, his limbs twitching.
“I’d get that cut seen to,” I tell him as I slide behind the wheel.
Samuel sits up groggily, watching me through the jagged lines of blood creeping down his face as I pull into the road and speed off.
Arrow stares a hole through my head. “You know we can’t waste any time. Who knows when the next car was coming?”
She pants, giving me a nonchalant side-eye when I turn to look at her. “You’re not judging me, are you? You want her back as much as I do.”
I face forward, my hands tight on the wheel. Every signpost that flies by makes me wonder if I’m passing the road Red turned down.
“Where is she, Arrow? Whereisshe?”
The road makes a sharp bend, Arrow’s shoulder bumping into mine as gravity forces us into a lean. When we straighten, a signpost appears ahead. I stare at it as invisible fingers walk up my spine. Arrow lets out a sharp bark, and I flinch as if she bit me instead.
I slow down and pull onto the shoulder, staring at the signpost. It looks a little worse than wear since the last time I saw it. Someone used it as target practice, like they do most of the signs along this road.
Waspwood Lake.
It’s a paved road. Scenic. It winds down through the forest until it ends up at a large picnic area beside the lake. But there are also several smaller dirt roads branching off. Holiday homes for the wealthy. Maybe a retiree or two who live permanently in this pretty area of the forest. It would be mostly abandoned this time of year, what with the snow and ice.
Arrow huffs, then whines.
When I look at her, she’s staring straight ahead.
“It can’t be that easy, girl,” I murmur, stroking her head. “I wish the world worked that way, but…”
I stare through the windshield. It’s starting to snow again. Soon, any tracks Red might have left will be wiped out. The main road was already bare when the kid picked me up, so—
My eyes dart back to the side road.
I climb out of the truck, and Arrow jumps out after me. She runs ahead, her nose to the ground, and starts investigating the half-frozen shrubs lining the turnoff. Then she squats and pees.
I’m still staring at the road. At the two faint tracks imprinted on the thin slurry of snow and ice collecting in a shallow dip.
Tire tracks.
Snowflakes blow into my face, melting when they touch my skin. They catch in my eyelashes, turning into white blurs.
“It can’t be that easy,” I murmur, the words arriving as if whispered into my ears by the gusting wind.
Arrow stares down the road, and barks.
She knows this place.
I’ve brought her here before.
I didn’t think she’d remember…but how could either of us forget our first visit to Peter Monroe’s lake house?
