Page 84 of The Engagement Party

Mitch stopped looking around, scouting for trouble, and faced her. “What?”

“The boat in the shed. The one I couldn’t lift earlier.”The shed.It hurt to even reference the place. The memories kept pounding at the back of her brain, begging for attention. The idea of inviting them in then creating new ones with a second visit to that horrible space made her queasy. She fought to keep all of that uncertainty and worry out of her voice. “We get it and join your former friends back at the car... and I punch Cassie.”

Mitch’s eyes narrowed. “Sounds good but even if we can make your plan work they’ll be long gone.”

“Will had the keys to our car. I think they’re back in our room at the house.” Ruthie visibly swallowed. “So that won’t help us.”

Yeah, about that. Sierra reached into her pocket and pulled out the key ring she’d snagged off the floor what felt like days ago but was likely more like an hour or so. “What about these keys?”

Ruthie shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“I saw them on the floor and took them just in case we got away.” Sierra shrugged. “The ones Alex and Cassie have are the property keys. That should slow them down.”

“They could hot-wire the car,” Ruthie said.

Mitch scoffed. “Do either of them look like they could hot-wire a car? They pay people to do everything for them.”

Sierra was counting on that. “Let’s not give them time to figure out a new skill.”

Mitch and Sierra headed for the shed, but Ruthie’s voice called them back. “What about him?”

Dylan still hadn’t moved. Sierra didn’t trust him, and there was no way she was dragging him along on this unwanted adventure. “Leave him. We’ll send the police back for him.”

They should run but Sierra slowed her steps before turning her back on the smoldering house and getting to work. Her throat closed as they approached the shed. An itchy sensation crawled up her throat. She fought the urge to scratch and claw for breath.

Mitch put his hand on her back, gently steering her the last few steps toward the shed. “It’s okay.”

It was like volunteering to venture back down to hell. So, no, it wasn’t close to okay, but Sierra appreciated him trying to pretend it was. She’d underestimated him. She’d been so sure he would shut down when he heard the truth. So much of thestability he’d fought for turned sideways. Instead of retreating into his head, he stayed with them. Fought through it.

“I’ll go.” He walked in front of them and propped the door open with a rock.

A throat-punching smell floated out to greet them. A sickening mix of mold and rotting garbage. The tarp no longer trapped the worst of it. The dampness intensified the odor and had them all covering their noses.

Sierra tried not to look at the body or the head on the ground. She focused on the end of the rowboat, but the walls closed in on her before she even stepped inside. She opened her mouth and forced her body not to inhale. Ruthie switched between coughing and gagging, which didn’t help Sierra. The sound grated until she could almost feel it vibrating inside her.

Without a word, Mitch walked to the back of the shed. Only a few inches separated the side of his sneaker and Jake’s head. Mitch didn’t look down or get lost while he tucked the oars inside the craft. He put his hand on one end of the rowboat and gestured for them to take the other.

He pushed. They pulled. The boat wouldn’t move. It tipped to one side then it found a groove. It thunked against the shed’s floor as they shoved it outside. The cool air pressed against Sierra’s back, making the trek even harder. A few tugs and the boat hit the grass. Fresh air flooded Sierra’s system a second later.

Mitch shut the shed door, hiding the horrors inside. “I didn’t need to see that a second time.”

Sierra wanted to say something, but what? There weren’t any words to make this nightmare better.

Ruthie didn’t even try. She looked at Mitch and Sierra with a new sense of urgency. “Let’s move.”

The pulling was a bit easier on the grass, but not much. They’d gotten a few inches when Sierra glanced inside the rowboat and froze. “Damn.”

She’d never reached the point of relief, but she’d had hope. That died and tears of frustration took its place.

“What’s wrong?” Mitch sounded out of breath.

“Remember the shot we heard when Dylan was out here, pretending to be a policeman? He shot the boat.”

“I thought fiberglass stopped bullets,” Ruthie said.

Sierra looked at the very distinct hole. “We’re not that lucky.”

Chapter Sixty

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