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14
Into TheVoid
That night,we go back to the farmhouse to prepare some things for storage. The twins and Lando are here, along with several of the cousins who’ve come to help. The girls decide what items to prioritize, and the rest of us help pack themup.
“What about your dad’s photographs?” I ask Jade. They’re scattered through the house, beautiful shots of birds in flight and other wild creatures in their natural habitats.
“Oh, yes, definitely. We should each pick our favorites, if we can,” she says to her sisters. “And then they can be boxed separately, and we won’t have to go through them later trying to divvy themup.”
“What if we all have the same favorites?” Brianna wants toknow.
“Then we’ll have to flip a coin. Or arm wrestle or something.”
“Mud wrestling would work too,” Lando notes, and gets three nearly identical looks of amused scorn.
There’s a knock at the door. I go to see who it is, but one of Carlo’s men beats me there. He gets on his walkie-talkie, evidently checking with someone who has a view of the front porch, and then opensit.
I don’t recognize the man standing there, but Jade does. “Mr. Tanner. Is everything all right? Is there a problem with the animals?”
The man shifts uneasily. “It’s Zander.”
“Oh no! Is hesick?”
“No, no, but he keeps trying to escape our property. I think he’s trying to get back here, even though he’s got the animals with him. He goes to the corner of the spread that’s closest to here, and barks like he’s warning off an intruder, and tries to climb our fence. I figured I’d better come over and see if anything was wrong.”
“Poor Zander. Everything that’s going on here must have him all worked up. Once there aren’t people coming and going all the time, I’m sure he’ll settledown.”
Behind her, I look at Carlo’s guy, who nods. Time for a perimeter check.
“Thank you for stopping by,” Jade says. “You have my number, so please do call if you have any questions or concerns about any of the animals.”
Tanner nods. “Good luck to you, Miss Callahan. It was a real shame about your father.”
“Thank you,” she says softly, and closes the door. “I’m going to run upstairs and make sure there’s nothing there that we missed this morning.”
Our hands brush as she passes me, our fingers tangling briefly in a fleeting caress. It’s something I’ve seen with a lot of Adamo couples over the years, the instinctive urge to connect whenever possible, however briefly. I’ve never done it myself before.
I watch her go, then start helping Quinn and Brianna collect their father’s photos and stack them in the parlor for sorting. I’ve just added another one to the group when, from the back of the house, the crash of breaking glass sounds, followed by a soft whump.
I hear Carlo’s guy barking into his radio unit, and then he appears in the doorway. “The house is on fire. I need everyone to go out the front, quickly and quietly.”
My skin goes clammy. “Jade’s upstairs.”
“Jade!” Brianna yells, and makes a break for the door. Lando grabs her and she fights him like a madwoman, kicking and thrashing. I take advantage of the diversion to run out and down the hall, heading for the stairs.
I’m brought up short by a solid wall of flame. The old house is mostly wood, and it’s going up like dry tinder. I can’t even see the stairs, let alone get upthem.
I turn back, ready to scale the damn house with my bare hands, and find Quinn there. “Back stairs,” she tells me. “Hurry.” She grabs my hand and we race through the house, back up the hallway, through an unused den, and out the other side to another room I haven’t seen before. It looks like a stone cellar, only above ground, and it’s damp, musty, and blessedlycool.
Quinn opens a door in the outside wall to reveal a narrow, ancient-looking stone staircase climbing the side of the house. “Be safe,” she says. “She needsyou.”
“Can you get backokay?”
“Yes. Go.”
There’s no time to waste, so I take her at her word and go. The stairs are crumbling and slippery, and I lose my balance more than once on the way up. At the top is a landing with a weathered woodendoor.
It’s locked. Or stuck, which is just as bad. “Fuck!” I yell, and wrench at the old metal doorknob.
