brought me in on the secret power. The one we could learn. Take. Use.
I scan the windows of the house but even though the sun is starting to set, no one turns on the lights. Any innocent person who’d stumbled on the body would have at least lit the place up if not come out screaming by now. I’m starting to think Allie’s right. Whoever killed her aunt is in the house.
Crawling, I wait until I’m almost to the chain-link fence surrounding the garden to unclip the waist belt of my pack. Allie’s not in the woods. She’s walking toward me, her face pale. I slip the pack off, balance it on my palm and in one smooth motion chuck it up and over. Two toeholds, a leap for the top and then I’m dropping onto the soft grass. My adrenaline may have gotten me this far, but by the time I land I’m shaking, sweat coursing down my temples. Allie’s shoulders slump in relief when she sees me.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask. Already panting, I drive her stumbling into the tree trunks.
She stares at me, wide-eyed. “You weren’t behind me!”
“Because I wanted to make sure you made it! I needed to stop anyone who came after you. I’m the bait , Allie. Isn’t that what you use me for?”
Her mouth opens, closes again.
I can’t shake off the sting in her eyes, the truth in the words, the hurt in my voice as I said them. “I…I’m sorry, I didn’t...” Glancing over her shoulder, I frown. The yard’s empty. Apparently we haven’t been spotted, but those upper floor windows are making me nervous. “We should go. Once he...whoever... sees the empty frame—”
“He’ll know we were here, that we’re close,” she finishes for me. She pivots and takes my hand, ready to head into the safety of the woods and then her head twists toward the house.
She slows and my plowing ahead tugs her. “Wait,” she says. “He’s right there.”
“Who?” The yard is empty.
“Sarah’s killer. Brandon’s. I can get him.” Her tone shifts from uncertainty to determination. “We can end this.”
One look at her face and I swallow hard. She means it. “Allie, no. What’re you going to do, kill him?”
“I don’t know.” She stares at the house for a long second. “If I have to. Stick to the left side, close to the woods,” she says and then seems to register my hesitation. Her eyes flash. I can’t help but feel I’ve fallen short of whatever role she’s cast me. In a challenge of a tone she adds, “If you’re coming,” and then takes off in a crouch, sprinting from one leafy shadowed area to the next. My heart pounds. I have to go with her. I have to stop her.
Because if it’s Jamison in the house, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop him. He won’t hurt her—not unless he has to protect himself. The thing is, if he goes after her, and I don’t help her , she’ll know pretty damn quick whose side I’m really on.
Maybe it’s time , I think.
But if it’s not Jamison in that house, she might be in danger. And as much as I hate it, she’s not dispensable to me.
“Damn it,” I whisper. I shrug my pack on and follow her through the foliage. Instead of heading to the back door, she darts across the perimeter of the house. When she finally stops under the living room window, I’m heaving giant breaths, though we haven’t run more than a couple dozen yards. It must be what she did to me. Concern pinches her brow but I wave her off.
She tips her head to the window, points to my eyes. I’m taller than her by almost half a foot. Licking my lips, I nod.
While I rise onto my toes, she slides up her pant leg and slips a wicked looking blade from a holder strapped around her calf. How many knives does this girl keep on her? I wonder as I take a quick glance of the room inside. I catch a shadow stretched across the floor. Jamison steps into the room.
I drop against the siding, swallowing a curse. He didn’t kill her aunt. He just came here to question her and found someone had gotten to her
I scan the windows of the house but even though the sun is starting to set, no one turns on the lights. Any innocent person who’d stumbled on the body would have at least lit the place up if not come out screaming by now. I’m starting to think Allie’s right. Whoever killed her aunt is in the house.
Crawling, I wait until I’m almost to the chain-link fence surrounding the garden to unclip the waist belt of my pack. Allie’s not in the woods. She’s walking toward me, her face pale. I slip the pack off, balance it on my palm and in one smooth motion chuck it up and over. Two toeholds, a leap for the top and then I’m dropping onto the soft grass. My adrenaline may have gotten me this far, but by the time I land I’m shaking, sweat coursing down my temples. Allie’s shoulders slump in relief when she sees me.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask. Already panting, I drive her stumbling into the tree trunks.
She stares at me, wide-eyed. “You weren’t behind me!”
“Because I wanted to make sure you made it! I needed to stop anyone who came after you. I’m the bait , Allie. Isn’t that what you use me for?”
Her mouth opens, closes again.
I can’t shake off the sting in her eyes, the truth in the words, the hurt in my voice as I said them. “I…I’m sorry, I didn’t...” Glancing over her shoulder, I frown. The yard’s empty. Apparently we haven’t been spotted, but those upper floor windows are making me nervous. “We should go. Once he...whoever... sees the empty frame—”
“He’ll know we were here, that we’re close,” she finishes for me. She pivots and takes my hand, ready to head into the safety of the woods and then her head twists toward the house.
She slows and my plowing ahead tugs her. “Wait,” she says. “He’s right there.”
“Who?” The yard is empty.
“Sarah’s killer. Brandon’s. I can get him.” Her tone shifts from uncertainty to determination. “We can end this.”
One look at her face and I swallow hard. She means it. “Allie, no. What’re you going to do, kill him?”
“I don’t know.” She stares at the house for a long second. “If I have to. Stick to the left side, close to the woods,” she says and then seems to register my hesitation. Her eyes flash. I can’t help but feel I’ve fallen short of whatever role she’s cast me. In a challenge of a tone she adds, “If you’re coming,” and then takes off in a crouch, sprinting from one leafy shadowed area to the next. My heart pounds. I have to go with her. I have to stop her.
Because if it’s Jamison in the house, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop him. He won’t hurt her—not unless he has to protect himself. The thing is, if he goes after her, and I don’t help her , she’ll know pretty damn quick whose side I’m really on.
Maybe it’s time , I think.
But if it’s not Jamison in that house, she might be in danger. And as much as I hate it, she’s not dispensable to me.
“Damn it,” I whisper. I shrug my pack on and follow her through the foliage. Instead of heading to the back door, she darts across the perimeter of the house. When she finally stops under the living room window, I’m heaving giant breaths, though we haven’t run more than a couple dozen yards. It must be what she did to me. Concern pinches her brow but I wave her off.
She tips her head to the window, points to my eyes. I’m taller than her by almost half a foot. Licking my lips, I nod.
While I rise onto my toes, she slides up her pant leg and slips a wicked looking blade from a holder strapped around her calf. How many knives does this girl keep on her? I wonder as I take a quick glance of the room inside. I catch a shadow stretched across the floor. Jamison steps into the room.
I drop against the siding, swallowing a curse. He didn’t kill her aunt. He just came here to question her and found someone had gotten to her
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