Page 116 of Show Me

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t turn. Just stands there like something is out there and he’s not letting it get closer.

Trees. Faint shadows. Nothing I can see. But the feeling doesn’t go away. It gets worse.

My hand fumbles for my phone before I’ve fully decided to reach for it. I don’t think about it this time. I don’t argue with myself. I don’t hesitate. I hit his name. Press call.

With the phone to my ear, I remain fixed on the tree line, on Samson standing between me and whatever might be out there.

Waiting.

Chapter Sixty

Xavier

The phone vibrates once against the workbench. Ruby. I pick it up before it can ring again. “Yeah.”

There’s no greeting on the other end, just her breath, too fast, too shallow. “Xavier–” It breaks on my name. “Something’s wrong.”

I’m already moving. My heart is lodged in my throat, making it hard to get words out. “What happened?”

“I…. I went out to feed them and the gate….” She sucks in a breath. “It’s open. Some of the piglets are gone. Samson’s outside the pen. He won’t move. He’s just. He’s looking at the trees.”

My hand is on the truck door before she finishes. “Stay where you are.”

“I am, I just….” Another breath. “I don’t see them. I don’t….”

“I’m coming.” I hang up, don’t wait for a response.

The shop door bangs open behind me as I head for the truck. I don’t bother pulling it closed.

“Dad–” I call over my shoulder, already halfway out the door. “I’m heading out. Don’t know when I’ll be back.”

No answer. Doesn’t matter.

The engine turns over hard, gravel spitting as I back out faster than I should.

Storm debris litters the road: branches, scattered trash, standing water that pulls at the tires when I hit it too fast. I don’t slow down.

Gate open. Piglets gone. Samson out.

Why didn’t I look at the pen before I left? Why? Because I was being too much of a pussy to stick around. I wanted to get away before she woke up and started asking questions. Questions I don’t have answers to.

Her car is in the drive when I pull in. She’s in the yard. “Ruby.”

She turns fast, relief hitting her face and not settling. “They’re gone. Some of them are gone, I counted, I–”

“I’ve got you.” I close the distance, hands on her shoulders, grounding. She’s shaking. “We’ll find them. Slow down.”

Her breath stutters. She nods, but her eyes are already moving past me, back toward the tree line.

“He’s still out there.” She tips her head toward the hill. “He won’t come back, and I didn’t want to risk going out there alone.”

Thank God she didn’t decide to do everything herself this once. I follow her line of sight. Samson stands exactly where she said, broad, planted, facing the trees like he’s guarding something or waiting for it to come back.

I release her. “Stay by the fence.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Stay.” The word comes out sharp, but I don’t know what I’m walking into. Someone watching. Waiting. Butchered piglets.