Page 31 of The Overnight Guest

“Bet it’s one of those meth houses,” Bonnie said, shaking her head.

Margo handed the woman her bagged items and wished her a good day. How many homes were actually on Meadow Rue? She replayed the drive over in her mind. At least four, probably more. Chances were it had nothing to do with the Doyles.

Margo looked around the store. There were only a few customers. “Hey, Tommy,” Margo said to the boy placing freshly picked ears of corn on a display, “can you watch the front for a few minutes?”

Margo went to the break room and pulled her purse from the cupboard where she stored it during work hours. Inside was the little red notebook where she kept important numbers. She picked up the phone and dialed the Doyle house. It rang and rang. She hung up. Of course there was no answer. She checked her watch. It was just after 9:00 a.m. Margo fiddled with a strand of hair that escaped its clip.

The owner of the store, Leonard Shaffer, wouldn’t mind if she stepped out for a bit. Tommy could cover things for a while. Her husband, almost ex-husband, she amended, would think she was silly, overprotective. Becky was growing up so fast, but she was still her little girl. A niggle of doubt kept poking at her.Something’s wrong, something’s wrong.Margo looked at her watch. She’d be there and back in about forty minutes. And what could it hurt? She’d just drive past the Doyle farm and then come right back.

Oblivious to the gathering crowd of law enforcement and paramedics, Levi burst out the front door and stumbled from the house. Hands on his knees, he gulped in the fresh air, trying to clear his nose and throat of the smell of blood and death. Close behind came Sheriff Butler, grim faced and drenched with sweat.

“Sheriff?” a young deputy stepped forward, his face shining with anticipation.

“Seal off the property,” Sheriff Butler ordered. “No one comes or goes without my permission.” The deputy nodded and ran off to spread the word and retrieve the yellow crime tape from his cruiser.

“Levi,” Butler said.

Levi stood up straight and willed his stomach to settle. “Sir?” he asked.

Butler looked over to where Matthew Ellis was standing beneath the maple tree, watching them carefully, hat in his hand. Butler gave a little shake of his head and Matthew’s face fell.

“I need you to put a call in to the state police,” Butler said, turning his attention to Levi. “Tell them we need some agents here ASAP.” He mopped his sweaty forehead with his sleeve. “And tell them to bring the search dogs. We’ve got two dead bodies, two missing kids, and we’re going to need all the help we can get.”

18

Present Day

After eating, Wylie and the boy returned to the living room and sat in front of the fire. Wylie couldn’t stop looking at him. The rash around his mouth seemed to be calming down a bit. It was still red but not as inflamed. Wylie leaned in more closely. Something silver and shiny glinted back up at her. Wylie lightly touched his face and rubbed. Surprisingly, the boy didn’t pull away. His skin clung momentarily to Wylie’s fingers, then pulled away.

Wylie carefully picked the small, silver fragment from the boy’s bottom lip and rolled it between her fingers. It was gummy and sticky. Duct tape? It couldn’t be.

“Did someone put tape over your mouth?” Wylie asked in a whisper.

The boy blinked up at Wylie. He wasn’t shocked by the question and didn’t react with indignation. He simply nodded.

“Who?” Wylie asked, her chest constricting with something she couldn’t quite name. Horror, anger, sadness. All three, probably. “Your dad?” Wylie asked. “Your mom?”

Before the boy could respond, there was a thunderous crack. And then another and another. Wylie jumped to her feet, smacking her shin against the cedar chest.

“Dammit,” she muttered at what sounded like breaking glass coming from outside. The windows were fogged over and Wylie rubbed her fingers over the glass to clear them. From this vantage point, she couldn’t find the source of the noise. It was still snowing, the wind had whipped itself into a frenzy, and she could barely see beyond a few feet in front of her.

Another crack splintered the air. Tas whimpered.

“The trees,” Wylie said. “Tree branches are snapping because of the weight of the ice and the snow. First the trees, next it will be the electrical wires.”

The boy looked at her questioningly.

“It means it’s going to get very dark and very cold fast,” Wylie said, moving from the window to the closet. She pulled open the door and reached for a heavy-duty flashlight on the top shelf and set it on the cedar chest. Then she opened the drawer in the end table next to the sofa and found another, smaller flashlight.

“Here,” Wylie said, handing it to the boy. “You push this button here to turn it on. Give it a try.” The boy slid the black switch upward and a beam of light appeared. “Now turn it off. Only turn it on if the lights go out.” He slid the button to the off position. “Stay here,” Wylie ordered. “I’m going to go get the other ones.”

Wylie ran from room to room, grabbing flashlights. On her arrival at the farmhouse, she had stowed several throughout the house for just such an occasion. Wylie had never needed them before, and her pulse quickened at the thought of being plunged into blackness even in a place she knew so well. If there was light, everything would be okay, she thought.

Wylie carried the flashlights back to the boy and dumped them on the sofa. “I’m going upstairs to get some more; I’ll be right back.”

Upon seeing the uncertainty on the boy’s face, Wylie paused. Wylie didn’t want to scare him any more than she already had. The dark was her issue, not his.

“Just a few more, and I’m going to grab some extra batteries,” Wylie said. Snatching one of the flashlights from the pile, Wylie hurried up the steps. She should be more worried about having enough wood for the fireplace. Rationally, Wylie knew that the dark couldn’t really hurt them, but the cold could. Once she had all the flashlights in place, she would get more wood from the barn.

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