The sheriff shook his head. “I’ve had dealings with those Apocalyptic Faith folks before. They’re extremely averse to any outside presence, particularly law enforcement, and I’m concerned about stirring things up on that mountain. You know this storm’s gonna be a big one, right, Mr. Stanek? I’m in no position to start something I can’t finish. I’m ex-ATF.” Luc must have looked as clueless as he felt about that, because the sheriff expanded. “Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives—an agency linked to the Department of Justice. I wasn’t around for Waco—a cult situation in Texas—but I know how easily something like this can go wrong. If you can give me some evidence of wrongdoing…something to substantiate what you’re saying—”
“There’s a boy. He might need medical care.”
The man’s brows lifted expectantly. “A child?”
“No. He’s older. Nineteen, I think. But disabled.”
“I understand there were complaints at one point. I know CPS got involved. Maybe a decade ago?” The sheriff squinted hard at Luc. “How long you been up there?”
“A little over two years.”
“Hm. Not you. Didn’t realize anyone else lived on that mountain.”
“There isn’t. It might have been the previous owners. I believe they left in a hurry.”
“If I head up there right now, by myself…” The man shook his head. “I could try to get some folks from CPS to head up there, maybe go with them.” At Luc’s questioning expression, the sheriff explained. “Child Protective Services. They won’t like it, but we could couch it as a routine thing, since they’re not sending any of those kids to school, far as I know. I understand you don’t want to rock the boat if your girl’s in trouble, but this storm is gonna shake things up around here, and I got two guys out with the flu. This isn’t gonna happen today. And it’s gonna be a few days before the weather clears.”
Your girl.Luc itched at that.
“But you’ll do something?”
“Yes, Mr. Stanek. I’ll look into it.” After a pause, he went on. “You’re not thinking of going there on your own, are you? Because I can’t do a thing to help you if you head up there right now, understood?” Luc nodded, pressing back the desire to ignore this man’s advice and bust through their fence. “You got a phone number you can leave with me?”
On his way back out to the car, Luc glanced up and almost stopped walking. The stillness was unsettling. No cars driving by, not a sound besides the brittle crunch of his soles over asphalt.
It was bright, the night sky swollen pink, broken only by the dots of falling snow and the jagged line of the looming mountains. His mountain, whose sharp, eroded angles had drawn him to this place; the property he’d bought for a song: vines, broken machinery, and messed-up neighbors included.
He started up the truck and stared at that peak. He’d never seen it look so ominous or unwelcoming. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t conjure an image of Abby there, living her life with those people. What was she doing right now? Was it business as usual, or was she in trouble?
Compressing his lips, he threw the truck into gear, pulled out into the snow-covered street, and slid his right hand into Le Dog’s fur. “What should we do?” he asked, his voice hollow in the cold cab. When the dog didn’t answer, he gave him a quick squeeze and nodded. “I don’t know either, boy. I just don’t know.”
* * *
How could she do this in the snow?
She couldn’t. Not with the way she hurt. The ankle was bad enough, but it was her back that worried her now. Why did it hurt so much? It hadn’t been like this before.
Just to the next tree. To the dogwood. The one that bloomed pink in the spring. She lurched, hurting, weak and cold—much too cold. No time to think about the cold.
With her body bent forward, the pain was the only thing that propelled Abby to the farthest pasture, almost to the hole in the fence. Sammy was someplace behind her, back with the Church. Isaiah had made sure she knew that.He never made it out, Isaiah had said. Which made no sense. No sense at all, since she’d sent him right to the hole.
Pain lanced through her ankle as she stumbled, and Abby reached for something good to help push her forward.
A memory: Luc with his knuckle to her lip. Just that one hot touch spurred her on as snow soaked through her shoes and left the bottom half of her nightgown plastered to her body. She shook as she tried to see through the driving snowflakes. This familiar journey was nearly unrecognizable. The night didn’t help either. Abby slipped, stumbling on a rock. She tumbled hard to the ground, the air forced out of her lungs with an audibleoof. While she lay there, letting the rest of her soak and waiting for the energy to get back up, the dogs started barking, flashing her back to that moment two nights ago when they’d caught up with her. Were they looking for her already? If so, there was no hope.
No hope.
Get up!a voice said, right there in her head, loud and clear enough to be straight from God himself. But Abby didn’t believe in direct communications from Heaven. She’d seen enough firsthand evidence that those led to unhappiness and despair. She did, however, believe in Sammy, who deserved a better a life. A chance, at least. And she believed in Luc, whose steady hands were strong enough to put her back together again.
Feet caught up in her gown, she stumbled a few times as she tried to push herself to standing. Finally—finally—she rolled and got her feet under her. She pulled herself onto her knees, head pounding, eyes…wrong. Squeezed too hard by her skull. Time to go. No more resting. Go, go, go.
Up, moving, although she couldn’t be sure it was her legs taking her. Hard, fast, frantic, lungs full to bursting, face burning from the cold, back weak, but now blissfully numb.
Faster, faster, faster, legs swishing, fabric grasped like wet hands, like ropes, until she yanked it up and gathered it around her waist.
There it was: the fence, the last barrier, and the hole she’d cut into it. Only… No.Nononono.
It was gone. Of course it was. Of course they’d closed it up. She scrambled to the spot—she knew this was it—and saw where it had been wired shut. They’d found it, after all. Of course they wouldn’t just leave it open. Instead, Isaiah had had it reinforced with so many layers of wire, it felt like a message. It told her turning back was the only option.
