Pulling away from the house, Ethan reached for her hand. His glove squeezed hers. “At least he’s dressed warmly now.”
“Small favors.” Frustration pounded in Abby’s temples. “Where is he?”
“He’s on foot. He can’t have gotten that far.”
“He managed to get back into town from the foster home.” Abby took off her gloves and held her hands to the heat vents. “That’s a few miles from here.”
“Long walk in that sleet last night. Another mile and he’d have been back in your neighborhood.” Ethan drove toward Main Street. “This is all residential housing. Lots of opportunities for unlocked sheds and basements.”
“But it’s not just Derek we’re missing. Krista and Joe are nowhere to be found either.” Abby flexed her fingers. “How can three people disappear in a town this small?”
“This might be a small town by population but not geographically. Law enforcement is spread thin over a good-size chunk of land. There are a lot of heavily wooded areas, abandoned buildings, hunting cabins. We have every available resource working this case.” He glanced sideways and caught her gaze for a second. “We will find him.” Determination strengthened his words—Daniel Day-Lewis, The Last of the Mohicans–style.
But Abby wasn’t so sure. “There are so many awful possibilities.”
“Don’t think about it.” Ethan pulled up to a stop sign. “We have to stay positive.”
But the worst-case scenarios were stuck in her head. “Derek’s been gone all day. What if Joe found him? What if Joe decided to cut his losses and get out of town? He could have already killed Krista and Derek.”
“He probably took Krista as insurance, a hostage in case he needs a bargaining chip. Why would he kill her?”
“If he’s already a few hundred miles away, she could be dead wood he’s tired of dragging around,” Abby said. “Also, she and Derek can both testify against him.”
“True, but we have enough physical evidence that the case wouldn’t rely completely on their testimony.”
“You think Joe is that smart?”
“Hard to say. Some criminals are pretty savvy about the law and how to avoid prosecution. Others are complete dumbasses. He left a lot of evidence behind, including fingerprints. He’s either a dumbass, or he’s cocky. He’s been able to skate off charges in the past.”
“Derek loves the comic book store.” Abby pointed ahead. “Let’s stop and see if the owner has seen him.”
“OK.” Ethan parked at a meter. They got out of the car and trudged up the sidewalk. Abby flipped a hood over her head. The sleet had given way to light rain during the day. The temperature, which had hovered just above freezing, was dropping. Tonight was going to be treacherous. Search teams were finishing up their current rounds and heading in until daybreak. There’d been no sign of Derek. The chief didn’t want rescue volunteers killed during the search.
An electronic beep announced their entry into the store.
The fortyish guy at the register was too old to wear skinny jeans. “Hey, I was just closing.”
“We won’t be more than a minute,” Abby said. She dug out the snapshot of Derek and showed it to the clerk. “Have you seen him?”
“Yeah, I know that kid.” The overhead light winked on his tongue stud. Ew. “He comes in here once in a while.”
“When was the last time you saw him?” Ethan asked.
The clerk shrugged. “Dunno. Last week maybe.”
“Thanks.” Ethan handed him a card. “Call me if you see him.”
The clerk’s eyes widened. “Is he in trouble?”
“No,” Abby said. “He’s missing.”
“Shit. That sucks.” The clerk shoved Ethan’s card in his front pocket. “I’ll call you if I see him.”
“Thanks.” Abby followed Ethan outside. Sleet pelted her face. “Now what?”
Ethan squinted and hunched his shoulders against the wind. “Now we go home.”
“I want to drive through my neighborhood one more time.” Pain zinged through Abby’s frozen toes with every step.
“OK.” Ethan took her elbow and steered her toward his truck. “Ronnie said she can stay at my place all night if we need her.”
Abby’s house was close to the center of town. Even at a crawl, the drive didn’t take long. Ethan turned down her street. The cloud cover was thick enough to bring an early twilight.
Ethan drove around the surrounding blocks. There was no sign of Derek, or anyone else. He parked in her driveway. “Do you want to grab anything from your house?”
Abby opened the car door. “I want to check the shed out back.”
“You think he might be in there?”
“Probably not, but I have to check. As you said, Mr. Hanes’s house is only about a mile from here.” She got out and trudged around the house. Tamping down the illogical grain of hope budding inside her, she opened the gate and walked across the yard toward the big wooden shed that took up the rear corner of her property. She opened the door. Her hope deflated as she wrestled the door from the wind. It was empty. She turned back toward the house.
“Wait.” Ethan called her back with a low voice. “Look at the ground but don’t react.”
In the half-frozen slush, a line of footprints led away from the shed.
Water dripped from Derek’s nose. He shook ice crystals from his hat and peered through Mr. Sheridan’s shed window. Fifty feet away, Abby and Ethan were checking out her shed, the place he’d been hiding all day.
That was close.
Ethan went into the building for a minute. Abby looked sad as she closed the door. Watching her, Derek’s chest hurt. If she’d been alone, he wouldn’t have run. But Ethan would send him back to the foster home. Cold and wet was way better than…
Nope. Not going there again. Though he probably wouldn’t. This was his second bolt-and-run. He’d probably end up in juvenile detention if he got caught this time—one more reason for him not to get caught.
Derek coughed. Even with the dry coat and boots he’d stolen from the owner of the pickup that had assisted in his escape, he had never been this cold in his life. He couldn’t feel his feet or his hands. Really, he couldn’t feel 90 percent of his body. He felt bad about taking stuff that wasn’t his. He’d try to return it someday. But for once, luck had been with him last night. The boots were a little big, but better than his waterlogged sneakers. When he’d sneaked out the side door before dawn, to his surprise, he’d found himself not far from home.
Kenneth’s words wouldn’t get out of Derek’s head.
I doubt Torres is leaving with the job unfinished. He’s hanging around here somewhere. I bet you know your neighborhood better than anybody. Are there any good places to hide?
Where would Joe go? If Kenneth was right, Joe would stay close to places he was likely to find Abby.
Derek had headed home. Abby’s shed was a better hiding place in the summer. But where could he go? It was too cold to walk far, and the ice storm nixed any ideas of hiding in the woods. And he couldn’t leave, not with his mom missing. For all her faults, she wouldn’t leave without him. Joe must have made her. But where were they?
Ethan and Abby turned back to her house. Derek fought the urge to yell out to her. He pressed a hand to his empty belly. He was so hungry, his stomach felt like it was eating itself.
The corners of his eyes burned with tears. He didn’t want to spend the night in Mr. Sheridan’s shed. Not that his neighbor would find Derek. As nosy as Mr. Sheridan was, he couldn’t see Derek way back here, not through the precipitation. And at seventy-six, Mr. Sheridan wasn’t coming outside in an ice storm. Derek looked at the back of his neighbor’s house.
Weird.
All the blinds were drawn. Mr. Sheridan liked to watch the neighborhood activity. He loved catching kids doing something, anything that might get th
em into trouble.
Derek’s empty belly roiled. A piece of sleet melted, ran into his collar, and rolled down his spine.
He pushed the shed door open and went out into Mr. Sheridan’s yard. The maple tree’s limbs overhead were coated in ice, and the freezing rain had built up a shiny layer on the brick walkway too. Something was definitely wrong. Mr. Sheridan should have put rock salt on his stoop. He always tossed it by the cupful from the back door.
Derek crept to the window, but he couldn’t see anything. He tiptoed to the half-glass back door and put his eye to the crack between the blind and the doorframe. He could see a thin slice of Mr. Sheridan’s kitchen.
What was that? Derek squinted. Oh no. Sticking through the doorway, Derek could see legs clad in muddy brown polyester pants. Mr. Sheridan was lying on the floor. A shadow crossed the room, the figure moving way too fast to be old Mr. Sheridan. Derek turned, ducked, and pressed his back to the door. He glanced over at the back of Abby’s house. Were she and Ethan still there? Calling Abby meant Ethan would send him back to foster care, but Derek didn’t care. Mr. Sheridan was hurt inside, and the sick feeling in Derek’s gut told him maybe Joe was in there too. Was Derek’s mom?
He pulled Abby’s phone from his pocket and turned it on. His thumbs shot out a quick text. He zipped the cell back into his pocket. Should he go back to the shed or try to get another peek inside?
The door opened, and a hand yanked Derek inside.
“I’ve been looking for you.” The veins in Joe’s neck popped, and his eyes were black and buggy. He grabbed Derek by the front of his jacket and tossed him into the wall.
Derek’s head and shoulders bounced off the sheetrock. Pain rolled through his head. He slid to the floor and fell to his side. Putting his hands under him, his gloves slipped in something wet. He turned his palms over. Red liquid coated the gray nylon. Blood. The edges of Derek’s vision blurred. His heart rattled in his chest as he pushed his upper body off of the floor and looked right into Mr. Sheridan’s dead eyes.
He scrambled to his feet. Joe got a hold of the back of Derek’s jacket and hauled him across the kitchen. Derek skidded in the smeared blood and tripped over Mr. Sheridan’s arm. His hollow stomach heaved. Acid bubbled into his mouth.
There was so much blood.…
Joe dragged him into the living room.
Derek’s heart skipped. His mom was lying on the floor, arms out-flung as if someone had tossed her there. Her eyes were closed, her body limp. Her jeans and sweater bagged on her thin frame. Was she unconscious? Please don’t be dead. He started toward her.
“Stand still.” Joe yanked him backward.
Trembling, Derek wrapped his arms around his chest. On the outside, he was standing still and silent. On the inside, he was running and screaming.
A shove on his shoulder spun him around. Joe had a knife in his hand. Derek’s bladder almost gave out. Joe picked up a roll of duct tape. Yanking some loose, he slapped a piece over Derek’s mouth. Light glistened on the blade as Joe gestured toward a straight-back chair. “Sit.”
Derek shuffled over on shaky legs and dropped onto the seat. He strained as Joe taped his wrists to the armrests. Next, he secured Derek’s ankles to the chair legs.
“Fucking hold still.” Joe backhanded him across the face.
Pain rocked Derek’s cheekbone. Blood filled his mouth. Dazed, he looked beyond Joe, at his mom. From this angle he could see her chest rise and fall. The movement seemed slow and shallow. A darkening bruise and swelling colored the side of her jaw. She was alive, but for how long? They’d seen too much. Joe wouldn’t let them go.
“Eventually the bitch has to come back.” Joe went to the window and moved the blinds an inch. “Oh, there she is.” He turned. A crazy grin split his face. “She’s hiding behind the shed, and it looks like she’s all alone.”
Panic tumbled through Derek’s chest. Ethan had been with Abby before. Where was he now? Had he left? He and his mom couldn’t do a thing.
With his text, Derek had called Abby right to Joe.
She couldn’t face Joe alone. He’d kill her. Derek pulled at the tape binding him to the chair. He’d strained hard enough when Joe was securing the binds that the tape wasn’t super tight. He rocked his forearms back and forth. His skin burned as the adhesive moved. The silver tape didn’t break, but it did stretch just a little. Could he loosen it enough to slide his arm out?
“What are you doing?” Joe roared. He cocked his fist and punched Derek in the side of the head.
Derek’s head snapped back, and agony rocked his temple. He couldn’t hold back a whimper.
“Shut up. Christ, I hate kids.” Joe pressed the point of his knife into Derek’s cheek. “If I didn’t need your sniveling, sneaky little ass, I’d slit your throat right now.”
Blood and tears dripped down Derek’s face. Joe’s eyes brightened. He was getting off on Derek’s suffering and fear.
Out of the corner of his eye, Derek saw his mom stir. One arm moved a couple of inches. Her eyes opened and blinked several times. Focusing on Derek, they widened with alarm and anger. She rolled to her stomach and belly-crawled toward Joe.
“Don’t you hurt my son!” Her shout was raspy. On her hands and knees, she grabbed his ankle.
“You’re awake.” Joe turned on her. A kick to the head sent her sprawling. “Move again and I’ll cut out his tongue.”
She cringed, falling back, her muscles giving out from hopelessness or weakness, maybe both.
He ran the knifepoint along Derek’s jaw. Derek’s face burned as the blade made a shallow slice.
“Fuck. Maybe I’ll just do it for fun.” Joe ripped the tape from Derek’s mouth.
His mother screamed and launched herself at Joe. He kicked her again, his boot making solid contact with the side of her face. She flopped backward, unmoving.
Eyes glittering with excitement, Joe bent over Derek. With one hand, he grabbed Derek’s jaw and wrenched his mouth open. In his other, he clenched the knife.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Don’t point.” Ethan concentrated on acting casual. “Don’t stare at the ground either. He might be watching.”
“And you think he’ll run?” Abby kept her voice soft.
Ethan barely heard her over the sound of sleet pinging off the shed roof. “Don’t you? Those prints are fresh. Obviously, he saw us and took off.”
Abby frowned.
Ethan read her mind. “It’s not you he doesn’t trust. It’s me. I’m the one who sent him to foster care.”
“You didn’t have a choice.”
“You and I know that, but Derek is twelve.” Regret hardened Ethan’s heart. “I just wish he would have trusted me.”
Abby’s purse buzzed. She reached into the outer pocket and pulled out her cell phone. “It’s a text. Oh my God. It’s my number. It must be Derek.”
Ethan took two steps and stood beside her. “What does it say?”
She pulled off a glove with her teeth and pressed OPEN. “Mr. Sheridan’s house.”
“Who’s Mr. Sheridan?” Ethan tracked Abby’s gaze to the split-level catty-corner to her yard. The footprints in the slush pointed right at the fence between the properties.
Abby’s mouth twisted into a thoughtful frown. “Mr. Sheridan doesn’t close his blinds. He likes to see what’s going on all the time.”
Every window on the back of the house was covered.
“Are you sure?”
“He is getting old and a little forgetful, but he’s still the busiest body on the block.” Abby sent Derek a return text. WHERE R U?
“Let’s not take any chances. His house would be the perfect place to watch for you.” Ethan whipped out his phone and called for backup. “They’re on the way, but there’s a pileup on Route Six. Plus, the roads are covered in ice. It’s going to be a little while.” He poc
keted his phone. “Did he respond?”
“No.”
“I’m going to check it out.”
Abby was already moving toward the back of her yard.
Ethan grabbed her by the arm. “You wait here.”
She shook her head and reached into her purse. She pulled out a frigging Glock.
“Where the hell did you get that?”
“It was my mother’s.” Abby checked the clip like a pro. “It was pretty much all she left me. She wasn’t much of a jewelry girl.”
“Do you have a concealed carry permit?” Yeah, that sounded lame.
“No.” Abby gave him a that’s ridiculous roll of her eyes. “It’s a good thing it isn’t concealed. Are you coming?”
“Can you shoot that? It looks big for you.” But Ethan remembered her practiced stance when she’d pointed his gun at Detective Abrams’s killer.
“I can shoot it just fine. My mother believed in reliability and stopping power. Weapons aren’t supposed to be delicate.” Abby tossed her purse in the shed. Tucking the gun in her coat pocket, she put a toe in the fence and climbed over.
“Have you ever shot at a person?” Ethan wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to his question. Abby had been full of surprises. She wasn’t the fragile flower he’d thought. Damaged, yes. Delicate, no.
“No.”
“It’s a lot different than firing at a paper target.”
Abby deadpanned him from the other side of the fence. “I’ll do anything to keep that man from hurting Derek.”
Damn it. He’d have to arrest her and handcuff her to something heavy to keep her away. Ethan vaulted the chain-link and took the lead. “Stay behind me and do exactly what I say.”
He tugged Abby in back of the neighbor’s shed. “I want you to stay here just while I take a look around.”
Abby opened her mouth to argue. Ethan put a finger to her lips and shook his head. “You need to keep watch. In case I don’t come back, someone has to be able to tell the police what happens.” He pointed up the side of the property. “From here you can see the road. The street light is on. If Joe makes a run for it, you’ll know.”
She Can Hide (She Can Series) Page 24