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“Yes.” Leigh kept her gaze on the ground, noting the broken branch a few feet away. Maybe the length of her arm.
“Good,” he said. “And, if you’d like, you’re welcome to stop by my office after school tomorrow to talk.”
“Thank you, Mr. Ellingson.” She bit down on her bottom lip. The pain chased back the nerves. For now. “I’ll be there.”
“Good night, Leigh.” He headed back the way they’d come.
Leigh dropped the flashlight and lunged for the broken branch.
Mr. Ellingson started to turn toward her, and she swung the makeshift weapon as hard as she could. Into his head. The resulting thud vibrated down into her hands. He dropped to the ground. Unconscious.
Tossing the branch, she grabbed for the flashlight and pumped her legs as hard as they’d go. The house came into view. The basement light was still on, and she scrambled back down into the window well. Glass crunched beneath her shoes as she spun to search the whole room. “Troy!”
No answer. A small doorway built into the side of the staircase she hadn’t noticed until right then had swung open, but there didn’t seem to be anyone inside.
She charged up the stairs onto the main floor, out of breath.
The TV flickered from the living room. “Chris, is that you?” a voice asked. The old hardwood floor creaked with approaching footsteps. “What are you doing in there? I thought you were getting me some crushed ice.”
Leigh flattened herself against the hallway wall as a woman—too thin for her own good—shuffled past in her robe and slippers. She held her breath, moving deeper into the house. Toward the bedrooms. She didn’t know how long she had, but Mr. Ellingson would come straight back here the moment he woke. She had to keep going. She had to find Troy.
Panic lodged in her throat as Mrs. Ellingson—his mother—stopped at the end of the hallway. “Chris?”
Leigh launched herself into the nearest bedroom and closed the door behind her as quietly as the house allowed. It took everything she had to catch her breath. Shapes stood out in the darkness. A bed, a dresser. The closet had been left open. Button-down shirts and slacks hung neatly on hangers. Men’s. She was in Mr. Ellingson’s bedroom.
She dropped to the floor, checking under the bed. Nothing. She pulled everything from the closet next. Photos had been taped to the back. Her eyes hadn’t adjusted yet, so she couldn’t make out the subjects. But it didn’t matter. Troy wasn’t here.
“Are you feeling ill?” Mrs. Ellingson’s voice was louder now. Closer. The doorknob shook. Any second she’d open that door and find Leigh inside. “I’ve got Pepto-Bismol in the cabinet.”
Leigh rounded the end of the bed to the window on the other side and ripped the cord down. The blinds shot up. She went for the lock and shoved the window up. She’d just gotten her first leg through when door hinges protested from behind.
She fell through. She landed hard and rolled closer to the house in case Mrs. Ellingson decided to take a look.
“I ain’t cooling the outside, boy.” The window slammed closed, and the click of the lock engaged. Mrs. Ellingson hadn’t seen her.
She’d come out between the house and the freestanding garage. She shoved to sit up. The garage. It didn’t make sense to keep Troy in the house. Not with Mrs. Ellingson around. But the garage was far enough away from the house and the street. Nobody would hear her brother.
She stilled, scouring the tree line for any sign Mr. Ellingson had come home. Darting across the short distance, Leigh pressed her back to the building and worked her way around to the front. There was a padlock securing the door. She hadn’t come across a key inside. Mr. Ellingson probably kept it on him, but going back to see if he’d woken up wasn’t an option. She’d have to break it. “Just add it to the list of charges.”
Leigh searched for something to use. There. There was a toolbox next to the car up on jacks. Tipping the lid back, she grabbed for two open wrenches. They’d done this in physics class. She only hoped she remembered how. “It’s gotta work.”
She hooked both ends of the wrenches on either side of the shackle and brought the handles as close together as possible. The muscles in her forearms burned. A dog barked from a neighboring property. Her nerves convinced her someone was coming. Her hand slipped, and the padlock hit the garage door. “Damn it.”
She had to try again. Wiping her damp palms on her jeans, she repositioned her leverage.
The shackle snapped in half.
Victory charged through her as she discarded the broken pieces and hauled the garage overhead. Boxes created a wall between her and the back of the garage, and her heart sank. “Troy?”
Tears burned in her eyes. She’d thought… She’d been so convinced?—
A small voice seeped through the cracks of cardboard. “I knew you’d come for me.”
Lebanon, New Hampshire
Friday, March 19
10:00 a.m.
