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But I heard his truck starting and ran to the door, throwing it open.
He had parked on the other side of the yard, closer to the driveway. No wonder I hadn’t noticed his truck. It blended in with the shadows. His red lights shone brightly, then switched to a lower setting as he pulled out, heading back to the road.
My phone beeped a second later.
I glanced down, still distracted, that uneasy feeling starting to eat more of my insides, but it was the image Travis promised to send.
I clicked on it, my hand starting to shake. I typed in the last four numbers of my birthdate, and the picture popped up on my phone.
My blood ran cold.
I almost dropped the phone.
No! No, no, no. It couldn’t be.
I grabbed my key and tore out of my place, letting my door slam against the side as I sprinted for the main house. I already knew it’d be locked. They were in bed. Unlocking it, I threw it open and yelled out, “Vicky!”
I stepped inside, and just then the living room lights turned on.
I crossed to the doorway, still speaking, “Howa—”
They were there, and they were awake, but their mouths were taped shut. They were lying on the floor. Their hands and feet were bound. And standing by the light switch was the man I just saw in the image Travis sent me.
Everything went flat inside me, like I used to have to be when our father would show up.
He smiled, brandishing a butcher knife, as he motioned to me. “Come in, Billie. Join us.”
I said, my voice dull, matching my insides, “Hello, Ben.”
My brother was alive.
65
BILLIE
“How are you alive?” I asked.
He shook his head, tsking me. “No, sister dear. We don’t skip over the meal before going to the dessert. Try again.” He wagged his finger at me, then wagged his knife in the air at me.
I couldn’t stop staring at him. A part of me had stepped out of my body, but that also, couldn’t stop staring at him. There was nothing about him that stood out. He would’ve been described as a cute guy, but nothing more. Lean. His shoulders were slightly wider than his frame. Brown hair that was cut short where he could just comb it and leave it alone.
He wasn’t ugly. He wasn’t handsome. He wasn’t quite plain either.
He was nondescript.
Blue flannel shirt. Jeans. Work boots. He had some gruff on his chin, having not shaved in a day or two, but I recognized that jawline.
“You’re the one who tried to take me from the gas station,” I said, dazed, because this couldn’t be true. This couldn’t be happening.
God. My brother.
He laughed.
He wasn’t right. An unhinged look was in his eyes, but he smiled at me. “We’ve been waiting for you all day. I was about to come and get you, but now that the cop is gone, we can get started.” He lowered his head, a mischief gleam coming from him. One side of his mouth twitched up. “Should we hug, Billie?”
“I’m going to take your brother with me so he won’t turn out to be like him.”
Mom!
