Page 31 of Raised By Wolves

CHAPTER 23

SATURDAY APPARENTLY MEANS something special to people around here. In the woods, every day was the same: we’d wake up, we’d survive, and when darkness fell we’d sleep. But the weekend is different in Kokanee Creek. Kids don’t go to school, Lacey serves a buffet brunch at the KC Diner, and the chief drinks an extra cup of coffee before he goes out on his rounds.

He’s halfway out the door when he asks if I want to come along.

“Me?” I say, confused.

“You see anyone else around here?”

“No.” Lacey’s gone, and Holo’s still snoring upstairs.

“Come on, then,” he says. “I could use your help.”

I can’t imagine what he thinks I can help him with, but I’ve got nothing better to do. I put on my shoes.

The chief turns on the radio as we drive. I recognize the song and start singing along. “Maybe you’re the problem…”

“Did the wolves teach you that one?” the chief asks.

He thinks he’s funny. I shoot him a sideways glare and don’t answer. Last year I stole a radio from an illegal campsite and listened to it every night until the batteries died. But that isn’t any of his business, is it?

The chief turns off at a sign that saysRABBITSand heads us up a dirt driveway alongside a stubbly pasture. A few cows are standing off in the distance looking bored and fly-bothered. As we drive up to the house, a flock of chickens scatters in every direction. White feathers swirl up into the air.

“You tend to see the gun first with these folks,” the chief says. “But if you greet it—and them—respectfully, it’ll be all right.”

“And you’re bringing me alongwhy?” I ask as I follow him out of the car.

The chief takes his turn not answering. He goes up to the door and knocks loudly,one-two-three. I hang back at a safe distance. Sure enough, I see the barrel of a gun come out first.

It lowers when whoever’s inside sees that it’s the Kokanee Creek police chief on the porch. The door opens wider and a woman steps out, barefoot and scowling.

“If this is about Charlie, he’s eighteen now and he don’t answer to me no more,” she says. “Not that he ever did. Just like his daddy—more stubborn than a mule in concrete, and only about half as smart.”

“It’s not about Charlie, Mrs. Hill. I’m here about your daughter, Julissa. Is she here?”

Mrs. Hill looks halfway over her shoulder like she’s checking the hall behind her. “Nope.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

Her eyebrows knit together. “Earlier this week, I guess.”

“Can you tell me the day?”

“No, sir, I can’t. But she’s sixteen. Old enough to take care of herself.”

“Not legally,” the chief says. “And she hasn’t been in school since last Friday.”

“Huh,” Mrs. Hill says. She doesn’t sound concerned.

The chief turns and looks at me. Beckons me forward. “I brought along one of her friends. This is Kai. She misses Julissa a lot.”

I nod enthusiastically.Julissa! Love that girl! We go waaaaay back.

Mrs. Hill just looks at me like I smell bad. Admittedly, I might.

“It didn’t occur to you to mention Julissa’s absence to anyone?” the chief asks her.

“Hell, no, I was enjoying the peace and quiet.” She lumbers down the porch steps and starts walking around to the back of the house. “That girl’s attitude! She don’t get what she wants, she gets meaner than a rattlesnake.”

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