“Ness . . .” The urgency in August’s voice broke thespell.
“Get her out of here, Jeb,” I said. “Incase—”
“We’ll wait foryou.”
“Jeb, if she killed him, the Creeks will hunt herdown.”
Lucy released a whimper that had my uncle’s face contorting withindecision.
“Go!” Ihissed.
He jolted, then latched onto her arm and guided his ex-wife to the car. After he shut the door, he sprinted back toward me and crushed me against hischest.
In a rushed whisper, he said, “I’ll come back for you. Ipromise.”
I nodded. “Just keep her safe. Keepyourselfsafe.”
He broke away and jogged to the car. As the van rumbled to life, I sent a silent prayer up into the heavens that someone would watch over them so they didn’t end up in a ditch like theirson.
I watched the car turn before drifting into the house behind August. As soon as I stepped into the foyer, I pushed out my senses for sounds other than my gunning pulse. A faint thump hit myeardrums.
“Did you hear that?” Iwhispered.
August nodded, narrowed gaze sweeping thehouse.
Canine whines and scratchesensued.
“Just his dogs,” August murmured, but he nonetheless raised the umbrella he’d grabbed from beside the front door, positioning it over his head like a baseball bat, before stalking toward an opendoorway.
When I realized he was following a trail of bloody footprints, my stomachcontracted.
“Stay behind me, Ness,” he said as we crept through the kitchen that was white and black like a checkered board, and glaringlybright.
The only color in the room was an abstract neon-yellow painting on the far wall and crimson droplets on the shiny floor. As we passed the knife rack, I grabbed a small paring blade that almost slipped out of my clammy fingers. The damp scent of blood wafted through the air, made my lungscramp.
August was calm, his pulse barely speeding, a person used to the sight of carnage, a person used to storming into homes and seeking out criminals and corpses. He tipped his head toward a door smeared with red handprints, gaping like an openwound.
Were those Lucy’shandprints?
Nausea made monochromatic dots dance in front of my eyes. I’d wanted the man dead, yet the idea of finding him swimming in a pool of blood had my stomach roiling. I flung my hand out to clutch the black marble island before I blacked out. The knife clattered from my fingers, and I heaved, but nothing cameout.
August hissed myname.
“I’m okay,” I murmured, blinking to clear myeyesight.
His concerned and lengthy gaze told me he didn’t believeme.
“I promise,” Iadded.
Another long second passed before he raised his hand to the door and drew it open. The hinges creaked like in a horror movie. He touched his ear, and I understood he was asking me to listen. I closed my eyes andconcentrated.
A faint but steady thud had my eyes flyingopen.
Either there was someone else in the house or Aidan Michaels wasn’tdead.
August nodded once in understanding, and then he started down the stairs just as an arm hooked my throat. I screamed as I was hauledbackward.
August spun and lunged back up the stairs but froze on thelanding.
