Pride
Page 43
“I seen him.” Jack blinked listlessly at me.
“Today?” Ethan asked, and the boy’s head swiveled in his direction.
“Yesterday.”
“Do you know where he went?” I didn’t really expect an answer, and sure enough, Jack shook his head.
“He left with his friends, but I don’t know where they was goin’.”
Ethan glanced up at me with both eyebrows raised, and I nodded. “What did his friends look like?”
“One was tall and skinny, and the other guy was shorter. But he was more muscley.”
This time I smiled at Ethan. Jack had seen the dead strays before they were dead. “What did they do when they were here?”
“Nothin’. Adam went in, and the other guys stayed in the car. Then he came back out and they left.”
“And that was the last time you saw them?”
Jack shook his head slowly. “Adam came back later, but the other guys wasn’t with him.”
I glanced at Ethan again, my heart pounding unevenly against my sternum. “What did he do? Did he have anyone else with him?”
“Nuh-uh.” Jack let the screen door close and shoved cold-reddened hands into the pockets of his jeans. “He was just by himself. He went in and changed shirts. Then he came back out and put the shovel in the backseat.”
My pulse spiked so hard and fast my vision went dark for one interminable instant. “He had a shovel? Did he say why?” It wasn’t for Marc. It wasn’t for Marc. Marc’s still alive. I’d know if he were dead.
I’d know. Wouldn’t I?
“I asked him. He said it was for the deer. He hit a deer with his car, and was gonna bury it.” The boy sniffled and wiped his runny nose with the back of one bare arm. We were surely worsening his fever by keeping him out in the cold, but I had to know about Marc. We’d send him back in shortly.
“Did you see the deer?” I asked, then held my breath until he answered.
Jack shook his head again. “He said it was in the trunk. My daddy ties deer to the roof when he goes huntin’, ‘cause they never fit in the trunk. Adam musta hit a real little one. Prob’ly a doe. Or a baby. And he got all covered in blood puttin’ it in the trunk. That’s why he had to change shirts, I guess.”
I didn’t realize I’d stopped breathing until Ethan elbowed me in the ribs, then pulled me to my feet. Adam Eckard had shoved Marc into his trunk, then swung by home to change clothes and grab a shovel. And I could only think of one use for a shovel…
“Thank you. You’ve been a big help.” Ethan scuffed the boy’s hair and knelt beside him again to feel the child’s flaming cheek with the back of his hand. “You’ve got a fever, Jack. Has your mom given you any medicine?”
Jack shook his head.
“Okay, I want you to go inside and get yourself a big drink of water. Then go wake your mom up and tell her you need some Tylenol. Okay?”
But before Jack could respond, light footsteps creaked from within the house, and a woman’s hoarse voice called out. “Jack? Get your ass in here and close the damn door. You’re lettin’ out all the heat!”
Ethan nodded to encourage the boy, and Jack went back inside and closed both doors. “Some people should never be parents,” my brother spat.
For a moment, anger on the boy’s behalf peeked through my surging terror, a bookend to Ethan’s blatant disgust. But then fear for Marc washed over me again, and I staggered on my feet.
I don’t remember walking back to the car, but I’m pretty sure Ethan pulled me down the sidewalk, then pushed me across the bench seat to make room for himself. I didn’t really wake up until Dan turned toward me, frowning after one glance at my face.
“What did he say?”
I blinked at him, and Ethan glanced at me, trying to decide whether or not to answer for me. But I shook my head. I was fine. “Adam went out with the strays Marc killed. Then he came back alone, covered in blood, just long enough to change clothes and grab a shovel.”
“Fuck!” Parker’s fist slammed into the right half of his steering wheel, and fury tightened the line of his jaw—what little I could see of it in the rearview mirror.
“It’s okay,” I insisted softly. “He’s alive.”
“How do you know?” Dan eyed me sharply, like he was looking for hope he could borrow.
“Because Marc doesn’t lose, and he never gives up.” I stared out the window as Parker pulled slowly away from the curb, my gaze glued to the front window of Adam Eckard’s half of the duplex. “He’s still alive, and we’re going to find him.”
“We need to know where he works.” I took the lid off my coffee and dropped it on a paper napkin, then reached into the box for another chocolate-cake doughnut hole. “Let’s go back and ask Jack.” I’d been too stunned and horrified to think of that before we left Eckard’s house.
“Why?” Dan asked, around a mouthful of apple fritter. On his right, Parker sat chewing in livid silence, his free hand clenched into a fist on the table. But his carefully blank expression couldn’t quite hide the grief in his eyes, and that was really starting to piss me off. Marc was still alive—I knew it!—but Parker had already written him off. He was gearing up to avenge Marc’s death, while I was determined to prevent it.
Some small, traitorous part of me insisted Parker was just being realistic. That he was drawing conclusions based on solid facts. But the rest of me didn’t care. He’d given up on Marc, and for one tiny, fleeting moment, I hated him for that.
“Today?” Ethan asked, and the boy’s head swiveled in his direction.
“Yesterday.”
“Do you know where he went?” I didn’t really expect an answer, and sure enough, Jack shook his head.
“He left with his friends, but I don’t know where they was goin’.”
Ethan glanced up at me with both eyebrows raised, and I nodded. “What did his friends look like?”
“One was tall and skinny, and the other guy was shorter. But he was more muscley.”
This time I smiled at Ethan. Jack had seen the dead strays before they were dead. “What did they do when they were here?”
“Nothin’. Adam went in, and the other guys stayed in the car. Then he came back out and they left.”
“And that was the last time you saw them?”
Jack shook his head slowly. “Adam came back later, but the other guys wasn’t with him.”
I glanced at Ethan again, my heart pounding unevenly against my sternum. “What did he do? Did he have anyone else with him?”
“Nuh-uh.” Jack let the screen door close and shoved cold-reddened hands into the pockets of his jeans. “He was just by himself. He went in and changed shirts. Then he came back out and put the shovel in the backseat.”
My pulse spiked so hard and fast my vision went dark for one interminable instant. “He had a shovel? Did he say why?” It wasn’t for Marc. It wasn’t for Marc. Marc’s still alive. I’d know if he were dead.
I’d know. Wouldn’t I?
“I asked him. He said it was for the deer. He hit a deer with his car, and was gonna bury it.” The boy sniffled and wiped his runny nose with the back of one bare arm. We were surely worsening his fever by keeping him out in the cold, but I had to know about Marc. We’d send him back in shortly.
“Did you see the deer?” I asked, then held my breath until he answered.
Jack shook his head again. “He said it was in the trunk. My daddy ties deer to the roof when he goes huntin’, ‘cause they never fit in the trunk. Adam musta hit a real little one. Prob’ly a doe. Or a baby. And he got all covered in blood puttin’ it in the trunk. That’s why he had to change shirts, I guess.”
I didn’t realize I’d stopped breathing until Ethan elbowed me in the ribs, then pulled me to my feet. Adam Eckard had shoved Marc into his trunk, then swung by home to change clothes and grab a shovel. And I could only think of one use for a shovel…
“Thank you. You’ve been a big help.” Ethan scuffed the boy’s hair and knelt beside him again to feel the child’s flaming cheek with the back of his hand. “You’ve got a fever, Jack. Has your mom given you any medicine?”
Jack shook his head.
“Okay, I want you to go inside and get yourself a big drink of water. Then go wake your mom up and tell her you need some Tylenol. Okay?”
But before Jack could respond, light footsteps creaked from within the house, and a woman’s hoarse voice called out. “Jack? Get your ass in here and close the damn door. You’re lettin’ out all the heat!”
Ethan nodded to encourage the boy, and Jack went back inside and closed both doors. “Some people should never be parents,” my brother spat.
For a moment, anger on the boy’s behalf peeked through my surging terror, a bookend to Ethan’s blatant disgust. But then fear for Marc washed over me again, and I staggered on my feet.
I don’t remember walking back to the car, but I’m pretty sure Ethan pulled me down the sidewalk, then pushed me across the bench seat to make room for himself. I didn’t really wake up until Dan turned toward me, frowning after one glance at my face.
“What did he say?”
I blinked at him, and Ethan glanced at me, trying to decide whether or not to answer for me. But I shook my head. I was fine. “Adam went out with the strays Marc killed. Then he came back alone, covered in blood, just long enough to change clothes and grab a shovel.”
“Fuck!” Parker’s fist slammed into the right half of his steering wheel, and fury tightened the line of his jaw—what little I could see of it in the rearview mirror.
“It’s okay,” I insisted softly. “He’s alive.”
“How do you know?” Dan eyed me sharply, like he was looking for hope he could borrow.
“Because Marc doesn’t lose, and he never gives up.” I stared out the window as Parker pulled slowly away from the curb, my gaze glued to the front window of Adam Eckard’s half of the duplex. “He’s still alive, and we’re going to find him.”
“We need to know where he works.” I took the lid off my coffee and dropped it on a paper napkin, then reached into the box for another chocolate-cake doughnut hole. “Let’s go back and ask Jack.” I’d been too stunned and horrified to think of that before we left Eckard’s house.
“Why?” Dan asked, around a mouthful of apple fritter. On his right, Parker sat chewing in livid silence, his free hand clenched into a fist on the table. But his carefully blank expression couldn’t quite hide the grief in his eyes, and that was really starting to piss me off. Marc was still alive—I knew it!—but Parker had already written him off. He was gearing up to avenge Marc’s death, while I was determined to prevent it.
Some small, traitorous part of me insisted Parker was just being realistic. That he was drawing conclusions based on solid facts. But the rest of me didn’t care. He’d given up on Marc, and for one tiny, fleeting moment, I hated him for that.
