Page 60 of Love You To Pieces

And well, maybe it is. Why would he ever think that I’d crept in here, when I hid long before he had the chance to see me?

But, more importantly, that has to be Deacon or Fox. They’re speaking too low for me to really figure it out, and with my vantage point, I can’t see around the counter enough to catch sight of them. But who else would be looking for me?

“I think you need to leave.” The boy sounds confused, almost defensive, and he suddenly reaches into his pocket to clutch his phone in his hand. “I’m really sorry, and I hope you get the help you need.”

Confusion curls in my chest. If this were Fox or Deacon, wouldn’t the boy know them? Especially given Fox’s position as sheriff of Wolf Lake? There are other explanations for it, I suppose. He could be from another town, or new, or an outsider like me.

But it’s still strange.

“Anyway, I need to lock up.” He walks around the counter, disappearing from view, though I can still hear him talking. “I’ll walk you out. I think⁠—”

There’s a sound. A gasp, a scuffle, and a sound like an aborted yell of pain. My heart flutters in my chest, and Pearl looks up, no longer interested in licking every molecule of hot dog off the wrapper she’d been so interested in.

Suddenly, the boy falls across the counter, face down. When the display cracks under him, I jerk to a standing position instead of staying crouched. My mouth opens, and I almost cry out until Carl turns and looks at me with wide, shocked eyes. His face goes paler, which I wouldn’t have thought possible.

He looks at me and recognition flickers in his gaze. I half expect him to point at me, to say something to whoever just threw him into the counter.

But he doesn’t.

Carl, this boy I’ve never met before, mouths one word to me.

Run.

He slides to the floor, leaving a trail of blood on the glass that’s lit from underneath by the display lights.

At my side, Pearl growls low in her chest, and I jump with my heart pounding.

Why would Fox or Deacon do this?

The way they’ve acted, they like the people of Wolf Lake. Hell, the gas station was full of photos of them with Ms. Hewitt and others, looking like they’re a part of the community.

So why kill a boy in the movie theater?

I barely try to stay quiet. Especially when I hear the thud of heavy footsteps heading for the hiding place I just vacated. Pearl growls again, the sound chilling, and I don’t stop for more than a second to think about why she’d growl at them when she seems to tolerate Deacon and Fox, even like both men most of the time.

But I’m too afraid to give that much thought. I’m too scared to think about where I’m going, and I stumble up stairs illuminated by the dim, yellow theater lighting. I yelp and go down, my hands hitting the rough, worn carpet under me before I’m up and running again.

It’s too dark for me to see where I’m going. Hell, it’s so dark that I mostly just trip and grab onto anything in front of me. Every once in a while Pearl brushes against my legs, as if she’s urging me onward toward the door on the other end of the small theater. The glass pane is lit from behind, and while I have no idea what’s in that room, I can only hope it’s not a dead end.

Pearl yelps suddenly, causing me to trip, and I echo her cry as I hit the floor again while a man curses behind me.

“Stop it!” I shriek, hearing her pained yelp again. I want to turn to figure out how to help her and why either brother would hurt her, but I can’t.

I can’t fucking see, and I don’t have a weapon.

When a hand grabs my ankle, I instantly kick outward. My foot makes contact with a solid body and earns a sharp exhale of breath in reply. The hand tightens and Pearl growls, then I feel a paw on my thigh before she’s growling and tearing at something, causing the man to scream.

His hand finally releases me, and I shove myself upright, my eyes fixed on the door.

Please, God, don’t be a dead end, I pray as my burning legs take me toward it.

My hands smash it open, causing the heavy door to swing inward, and I look around to see it’s just a stupid alcove with a janitor’s cart parked against the far wall. “Fuck!” I gasp, glancing back into the theater. I can’t go back there. Not when I can see the outline of the man getting closer now that he’s shaken off my dog.

But I also see a dark staircase to my right, though I hesitate to go up that way. There’s no way I’ll find an easy way out from there, but…

It’s my only choice, isn’t it?

I scramble up the stairs, glad for the dim floor lights that are lit even without the overhead light being on. The warm light is enough to see by, and enough to make out ‘90s era patterns on the carpet, though why my brain picks out that particular detail, I have no idea.