Page 102 of Deliver us from Evil

“We’re assuming Gabriel took her, but what if it wasn’t him?” Zach says quietly. And then puts his hand over Cass’s so he’ll stop tapping his nail. “He could have had someone else do it.”

“But how would he know—” Rube begins, sighing as he speaks.

“The lawyer.” Cass snatches his hand out from under Zach’s and clicks his fingers. “She obviously called him when Trinity picked up the key.”

“So? We weren’t followed here,” Rube says. “How would he know exactly when—”

Rube stops talking when Zach lifts a hand and points out his window.

We all turn to look.

“What?” I ask, peering at the house. The garden. The roof.

“There,” Zach says.

And then I see it.

A For Sale sign.

But I don’t get it.

“He’s watching the house,” Zach says. “Trinity’s old babysitter said a young couple moved in across the road. No kids, but the house is big enough for a family of five.”

“So they watch the house. Someone lets him know Trinity’s arrived. He comes and snatches her? And then what? Where does he go? And why?” Cass shakes his head. “What does he—”

“We have to go back,” I say. “Back to her house.”

Zach opens his mouth as if to argue, but then closes it again. Cass and Rube look at him, then at each other. Like there’s a telepathic conversation going on.

It’s fine, I’ll wait them out.

“He’s right,” Cass murmurs. “Everything leads back to that house.”

“But the safe is gone,” Rube says. “What else could there be?”

There’s a beat of silence. Then Zach says, “It’s not much…”

I grin at him. “But it’s a start.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Rube

My first and only foster family had a study in their house. One wall was lined with bookshelves and old, musty books.

One day when my sisters were all at cheerleading practice and I’d been left alone for the first time in my new home, I was climbing up the walls from boredom. I tried watching television, but it didn’t hold my interest.

So I explored the house, peeking into rooms I’d only caught a glimpse of before.

The study fascinated me. It felt stale and unused—when I opened the door, dust motes shifted through stray beams of light shining in from the window. I felt like I was walking into a crypt.

I went over to the bookshelf and worked my way through the titles. Some of the books stuck together when I tried pulling them out.

Those I left alone, scared I’d damage them and get crapped out.

But some came out a little easier. Titles I’d later learn to recognize, but which were alien to me back then.

Alice in Wonderland.

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