Mountain Brook
Annette parked the sedan she’d borrowed from Kim Schaffer along the side of the deserted road. She stared through the darkness. Light glowed from the two windows on the front of the shack where Maxwell West resided. His old pickup truck stood to one side of the shack. She didn’t see any sign of Max.
With her cell phone tucked into her pocket, she opened the car door and got out. She listened for several seconds. Too quiet. Where were the rants of a mentally ill man? No sounds of things being tossed around inside his house though half an hour ago he had been in a desperate rage, according to Carson.
He could have injured himself. Could be dead.
Fear snaked along the column of her spine.
Walking quickly, she made her way along the gravel drive. Her heels crunched, jarring the silence pressing in around her. She glanced back to the car twice, three times, her fingers wrapped tightly around the cell phone in her pocket.
Annette wasn’t usually so jumpy. But this could very well be a setup. She wasn’t sure Carson had considered that possibility, but she sure as hell had. Even if it weren’t, it was unfamiliar territory.
She understood how to handle her sister’s outbursts, but this was a man with an entirely different problem set. He would be far stronger than Paula. Once Annette reached the small porch, she moved a bit more stealthily. If he had worn himself down, fallen asleep, she didn’t want to startle him.
At the door she tried the knob. Not locked. Annette braced herself and slowly, noiselessly turned the knob. The locking mechanism clicked as it moved to the open position. She flinched. Stay calm. Be ready. Then she opened the door.
The room was well lit.
The Spartan furnishings were turned upside down. Items had been ripped from their shelves, cabinets, and drawers. Photographs had been torn into pieces. But no sign of the man who had carried out such destruction.
She listened a few moments more. Nothing. “Max?”
Silence.
Her nerves jangled. She squeezed the phone in her pocket tighter. “Max! Carson sent me to see if you needed any help cleaning up.”
“Shhh!”
Annette whirled toward the door.
Max West grabbed her, held her close to his body. “Shhh,” he hissed in her ear. “They’ll hear you.”
Her heart thudding against her chest wall, Annette nodded. He must have been hiding behind the door.
“They’re gonna get me this time,” he muttered. “I know it.”
Annette turned her face up to his. That was about the only part of her body she could move at the moment. “What do they want?” Instinct told her to play along. If the man was delusional, arguing wouldn’t work.
He stared down at her, his face a mask of confusion and frustration. “Me, of course!”
She nodded. “We should make a run for it.” The idea gained momentum quickly. “I have a car. Should we go get help?”
Max moved his head from side to side in a slow, resolute manner. “If we go out there, they’ll get us for sure.”
“I understand.” She glanced around the room. “We should find ourselves weapons.” She looked back up at him. “Maybe prepare something to hide behind. Like that couch over there.”
He seemed to consider her suggestion, then shook his head adamantly. “We can’t touch anything. It’s all evil. That’s why I had to fight it.”
“Carson is worried about you.” She didn’t know what else to say. “He wants me to—”
“Where is that boy?” Max demanded, his tone loud and gruff. “He should’ve been home by now. The last time he did this ...”
Annette’s insides froze. Was he referring to the night Carson’s family was murdered? Or some other night that had suddenly flashed through his muddled gray matter? “What happened last time?”
Max shook his head hard. “I can’t say.”
Annette lowered her voice to a more soothing tone. “You can tell me anything, Max. I’m Carson’s friend. He trusts me.”
