Page 1 of Husband Missing

PROLOGUE

TWELVE YEARS AGO

Hunger gnawed at Bug’s stomach. The cold from the rock beneath her seeped through her thin pants, numbing her bottom and creeping down her legs until her feet felt like two blocks of ice. She thought about her gloves, bright red like the lipstick her mom let her try sometimes, tucked away in her top dresser drawer at home. If she’d known that she’d be sitting outside all day, she would have brought them. Her boots, too. And her hat. At least she had her coat, though even that wasn’t stopping her body from shivering. But there was no way she could have known she’d end up here, tucked away along the side of the road between two huge trees, watching the lights blink on in the house on the hill as evening fell.

Her mother never told her where they were going.

“Life’s for adventures,” she always said, grinning in that way that was both exciting and kind of scary. Bug’s mom had this way of making her feel important, like a best friend. At the same time, there was a shadow in her eyes, flickering behind every smile like the warning light that always came on in their old car.

“It don’t mean nothing,” her mom would mutter every time it winked on before slapping her hand violently against the dash.

This didn’t mean anything either, right? Her mom wouldn’tleaveher here.

Her mom had never left her behind before. Not forever.

Then again, this was the first time her mom ever went inside the big house. They’d driven past it more times than she could count, her mom always slowing the car, neck craning to stare up at it like it was the first time she’d seen it. It was big. Bigger than any house Bug had ever seen, even on television. It was fancy, too. Pretty like a Barbie Dreamhouse even though it was made of shiny wood, stone, and enormous windows.

The best part was the railing along the big porch. Instead of bars, the black metal had been shaped to show a scene from the woods. Deer running and leaping through trees and over logs. Big deer. Some of them with lots of antlers and others with none. The whole thing was in silhouette, her mom had explained. Bug loved that word. It was one of the most magical words she’d ever learned, to go with one of the most magical things she’d ever seen. She understood why her mother was so obsessed with it. Whenever they drove past, Bug imagined them living there one day. They would always have water from the faucets. The lights would always work. Her mom would always feel happy. It would always be warm on cold days, and there would always be food. All the food they could possibly eat.

Just the thought of food unleashed a growl from deep in her belly. If she’d known they were coming here—that her mom was going inside—she would have brought a snack. There was a crushed two-pack of crackers, like the kind you got in the hospital, in the back of the cabinet over the top of the fridge. Her mom hadn’t found it yet. It was all crumbs now but if Bug opened it carefully enough, the plastic would hold them like a little bag while she poured them into her mouth.

She wished she had it now even as guilt needled her. Maybe her mom was hungrier.

But her mom was in the big, beautiful house and she was out here.

“Stay on this rock and don’t leave,” her mom had told her. “Don’t go anywhere until I come back.”

Wind whistled through the gnarled tree branches above her. The eyes of a bunch of big, black birds stared down at her. Occasionally, one of them would shriek like someone was stabbing it and all the others would answer until it sounded like they were all being stabbed at once, over and over. She swung her legs, kicking her heels against the stone, trying to force some warmth back into her limbs.

How long until her mom came back? Soon it would be nighttime dark. Black. The soft twinkling lights of the magical house didn’t reach this far. Nothing good happened when she disobeyed her mother, but could she really spend the night out here? She’d been here since morning and not a single car had come down the one-lane road. What if she died from starvation? What if she froze to death? What if the black birds pecked her frozen eyes out? What if a wild animal ate her?

The rapidth-thump th-thumpof her heartbeat filled her ears, almost blocking out the death shrieks of the ugly birds with their dumb, ugly eyes staring at her all the time.

She needed a plan. That was all. Her mom always had a plan.

Before it got dark enough that she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face, she’d walk up the long driveway to the house, knock on the door, and ask for her mom. A shiver rattled her teeth. Not from the cold this time. What if the punishment for not doing what her mom said was worse than this?

Before she could think too hard about it, a figure came walking down the long driveway, swaying and stumbling like grown-ups did sometimes when they had too much beer to drink. Fear crawled up the back of Bug’s neck like a big spider. She tried to stay very still but her teeth clacked in her mouth andher heart knocked so hard against her ribs, it was difficult not to shake.

Please, please, please be Mom.

She hadn’t thought about what she’d do if someone besides her mom came for her.

She clenched her jaw, willing her teeth to stop chattering. Surely, the entire forest could hear it. The figure kept coming down the driveway. Should she stay put, like her mom told her, or hide? Before she could decide, the person reached the bottom. Relief rolled through her small body when she saw it was her mom.

Finally.

Bug didn’t even bother looking both ways as she sprinted across the road, clasping her mom’s hand. Something hot and wet soaked her fingers. Her mother’s head hung down and to the side, making her long hair swing across her face. A weird gurgling, choking noise came from behind it.

“Mom?” Her voice sounded so small and yet, so loud in the dark.

Something warm trickled down from her mom’s fingers, over her wrist, and into her coat sleeve. She tried to look at it but there wasn’t enough light. A whole mess of fear spiders broke out along the nape of her neck, skittering under her clothes, across her cold skin, making her breath feel funny as it pushed in and out of her body.

The creepy watcher birds were doing their death shriek again.

“Mom?”

Her mother spoke in a broken-sounding voice, the words almost jumbled, like she couldn’t get the sounds right.

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