The situation reminded him of hiding out under a mattress in the hallway with his mom and brothers whenever there was a tornado warning. Their house had no basement or reinforced room, and they couldn’t all fit in the bathtub.
As a little kid, it had been both scary and somehow exciting knowing a powerful twister might be hurtling their way. Until he’d seen firsthand the devastation it could cause.
A storm hit OKC when he was fifteen, spawning a tornado that killed dozens of people in a nearby neighborhood and clipped the corner of the Air Force base, less than a half mile from his own house.
The next day, their yard was covered in scraps of photos and documents, insulation, and debris from the damaged homes. There were drives to collect intact pictures and papers to try to reunite them with their owners, to help them salvage whatever they could. The community came together to clothe and feed and house those who were displaced. That had been the one bright spot.
But months later, when the hardest hit neighborhood was reopened to the public, Todd and his best friend rode their bikes down to see the boy’s old house. Craig made a wrong turn and almost lost his shit. All the street signs and landmarks were gone. The area looked like a war zone with the trees stripped bare, houses in rubble—some with only their fireplaces still standing—furniture and construction materials and other detritus lodged in the skeletal trees.
Craig had already been back once with his family to scavenge what he could, but he still cried at the pile of wreckage that had been his childhood home.
The sheer power of nature fully struck Todd then, and it no longer sparked excitement.
He returned home and immediately began campaigning his mom to buy a tornado shelter. He wanted her to have a safe space, especially with him only a couple years away from leaving home and both of his brothers already off on their own. Not that any of them could protect her even if they were there, but he’d worry less if he knew she had a sanctuary.
She balked at the expense, but finally gave in after he took her through Craig’s neighborhood. A month later she had what looked like a bank vault installed in the corner of the garage and the next time they faced a tornado warning, Todd had admitted to himself that the safe room was as much for him as her.
Thinking about his mom pinched something in his chest. Why hadn’t he called her when he’d phoned Kurt? He should have told her he loved her, and assured her he was innocent and unharmed and had a plan. No doubt worry for him was her constant companion right now. Calling wouldn’t have changed that, but it might have eased her mind to hear from him.
But if he were honest, he knew exactly why he hadn’t made contact. He would’ve broken down the minute he heard her voice, and he hadn’t been ready to do that in public, and especially not in front of Lindsey.
Coward.
Right then, he promised himself that he’d get hold of his mother the minute it was safe.
He composed apologies and explanations in his head—for both his mom and Lindsey—and spun out a dozen possible escape plans depending on how things went down. He ignored the pull of Lindsey’s nearness and tried to pretend the loss of her trust hadn’t cleaved him in two.
Would she understand why he hadn’t told her about Pete? Did it matter?
When her shivering intensified, he tightened his arm around her and directed his warm breath across the back of her neck.
He’d begun to rethink the plan of staying hidden until nightfall when voices approached the truck.
CHAPTER TWELVE
LINDSEY HAD BEEN trying to envision a warm, crackling fire, pretending she was one of those monks who’d mastered the art of controlling their body temperature—and failing miserably—when a voice made her freeze in place.
The man sounded close enough to spit on. Footsteps crunched on the wet, salted asphalt, and she clamped her lips shut to keep her teeth from chattering loud enough for anyone to hear. Sharing body heat with Todd wasn’t enough to overcome the cold floor beneath them or their damp clothing, and he had it worse being on the exposed side.
Following his lead, she kept still, holding her breath.
If anyone studied the contents of the truck too carefully, or moved anything, she and Todd were screwed.
“I’ll keep an eye out during my shift,” the man said, right on top of them now.
The truck jerked sideways. Lindsey bit her lip to keep from gasping out loud. Around her, Todd’s body tensed. The door slammed shut and the engine started with a rough growl a few seconds later.
Putting his mouth close to her ear, Todd said, “I guess we’re going for a ride.”
She gave a slight nod, too cold to unclench her jaw for speech. The plan had been to wait for darkness and then sneak away from the compound. Getting a ride off the mountain seemed like too much to hope for. But it could also spell disaster. Who knew where they’d end up, or how long they could go without being discovered?
As they descended the hill, her feet pressed into the front wall of the bed and the tarp’s edges flapped loudly. The metallic scent of exhaust tickled her throat as they bounced over potholes, her already bruised hips getting battered anew.
Fatigue slammed into her. Today’s revelations about Megan and Todd, and everything she’d faced over the last few months, sucked her into a whirlpool of questions and confusion and pain.
Megan hated her. Next-level hatred. Like, happy-to-kill-her-level hatred.
How could Lindsey have misjudged so many important people in her life?
