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“We don’t have—” Theo began.
“It’s not a discussion. Theo, Auggie, you’re with me. North, Shaw, are you good?”
“Good,” North said.
Theo and Auggie hurried toward the minivan, where Emery was already loading Evie into her booster seat. North herded Tean and Shaw toward the GTO, where Jem waited, hands in his pockets.
Inside, the car smelled like American Crew hair gel and the faint hint of cleaner, whatever North had used last time, and maybe, possibly, just barely, the faintest whiff of cigarette smoke. The engine rumbled to life, and North eased the car forward.
“He thinks someone’s going to try to kill us,” Tean said. Under the GTO’s growl, he was barely audible. “Doesn’t he?”
Jem said, “Let ’em. We fucked them up last time.”
“Last time,” North said, “you and Theo barely got out with your lives, and Theo and Auggie’s house burned down.”
“It didn’t burn down,” Shaw said, “not entirely.”
“And that time, the killer didn’t even bring a gun. How well do you think you’re going to do if four guys step out of an alley with shotguns?”
“We’ve managed to stay alive so far,” Jem said.
“Because you’re lucky. How long do you think you’re going to be lucky?”
“We’ve stayed alive because—”
But when Shaw looked in the rearview mirror, Tean was shaking his head, and Jem cut off.
“Exactly,” North said.
“North,” Shaw said.
North grimaced, and his attention seemed to settle on driving. They rode the rest of the way in silence.
Instead of hotdogging it, as usual, North hung back a few car lengths and let the minivan lead them to the Hazard and Somerset home. He pulled up in front of the house as Emery was still guiding the Odyssey into the garage.
“I’ll clear it,” Jem said.
“We’ll clear it,” North said.
“But I’m lucky,” Jem said, “and you’re just an asshole.”
North barked a laugh. He waited by the side of the GTO after he got out, and when Jem climbed out, North tried to swat him on the back of the head, which made Jem laugh in turn. Their laughter faded, though, as they headed toward the dark house.
Shaw traded a look with Tean. “Do you understand boys?”
Tean touched his glasses like he wanted to resettle them. “They’re nervous, and they’re finding outlets for that nervousness.” Then a tiny smile curled the corner of his mouth. “But no. Not in the slightest.”
They waited in silence. Shaw’s mind began to branch and fork, a labyrinth of possibilities. First and clearest was the one North had suggested: men in the dark, men in masks, waiting with shotguns to deliver a rain of death. But it could be so many things. Gas filling the house, waiting for a single spark to explode. Or the man again, the one with the sickle, who had come before. He pictured North caught off guard, North with nothing to defend himself against that black blade sweeping out of the darkness—
Tean touched his arm, and Shaw flinched.
“You need to take deep breaths,” Tean said. “You’re hyperventilating.”
Shaw nodded and tried to breathe through the chaos of his own mind. For a moment, the frustration was worse than the fear itself: the old, familiar dismay that no matter what he tried—psychotherapy, psychedelics, weed, meditation, even exercise—he was a victim of neural wiring.
But the breathing helped, some, and after a moment, Tean dropped his hand.
Lights went on in the house, and then the front door opened, and North signaled. By the time Tean and Shaw stepped inside, Shaw could hear Emery and the others in the kitchen, where they’d entered through the garage. The house itself looked untouched: no vandalism, no destruction, no ominous threats or messages. It felt right, too, although Shaw knew North would dismiss that as woo-woo; the house still felt safe, comfortable, like a home.
