His tail flopped as they climbed the rickety steps.
“Good fella,” Conner said gently before banging on the door.
The house backed up to the woods. Considering the wooded areas between here and the location of the cemetery, it would be easy for Matilda to slip back and forth without being spotted.
“It’s quiet in there,” Conner said. “Maybe no one’s home.”
“Knock again.”
He banged a little harder this time.
Sarah listened, heard some bumping around. “Someone’s up.”
Conner beat his fist on the door a third time.
The door flew open. “What the hell is it?”
A woman with stringy black hair and dressed in nothing but a T-shirt glared from Conner to Sarah. But the eyes were the same as Matilda’s. This unfortunate being was her mother.
“Is Matilda home?” Sarah summed up the woman in one word. Druggie. Too skinny. Splotchy complexion. Bad teeth. She couldn’t have been more than thirty-five. A serious user.
“Who knows?” The woman flung the door open wider. “See for yourself. I’m going back to bed.” She eyed Conner once before putting word into action.
Conner entered before Sarah. Another of those protective male gestures.
The living room had few furnishings. A ragged couch and a couple of tables. The mainstay of the decorating was garbage. Empty pizza boxes. Beer cans. Newspapers. Dirty clothes.
“Nice place,” Sarah murmured. Poor kid. Living in a dump like this with a mother like that. As crazy as Sarah’s mother had been, she’d kept a clean house and she’d taken care of Sarah most of the time.
The kitchen was even worse. Dirty dishes filled the sink, covered the countertops and table. A couple of black flies that miraculously survived the cold crawled around on the window above the sink.
Conner led the way down the hall. As she’d promised, the mother was sprawled in bed, most of her ass showing. Some dirtbag lay partially under her. A filthy bathroom was the next door they encountered.
The final door was closed. Sarah knocked but there was no answer. The room beyond the door was quiet. She grasped the knob and turned. The latch released and the door opened.
Unlike the rest of the house, Matilda’s room was neat. A white pentagram had been painted with what appeared to be spray paint on the wood floor. Other symbols of her religion hung on the walls. The one bookshelf was mostly empty. Sarah remembered Matilda saying that she’d hidden her stuff.
Her great-great-grandmother’s spell books.
The bed was made. The covers old and tattered.
The closet had a couple of T-shirts hanging inside and not much else.
The window that faced the woods was open a crack.
Sarah walked over and peered through the dingy panes. “So this is your way in and out.” The girl could avoid running into her mother and her friends and seek the safety of the places she felt safe.
The woods.
And the cemetery.
Sarah turned to face Conner. “Let’s go to Bay View Cemetery.”
He shook his head. “No kid should have to live like this.”
And, the saddest part was that none of the God-fearing, compassionate folks in his village seemed to notice or care.
That was Sarah’s cynical side talking. But it was true.
