Page 19 of Hitch
Around the side of the house, there’s a small chicken coop, and the hens cluck as I pass. A large red and white barn is directly behind the house—the one I assume Duane went inside of to fix the tractor—but the two concrete buildings behind it seem new. Freshly painted. No windows. On top of that, the entire property is surrounded by cornfields, like an agricultural fortress.
If Duane is killing people, there are alotof places to bury bodies here.
That’s your imagination talking,I think to myself. And at this rate, a secret like that won’t stay hidden for long. If he is a killerandI’m in danger, then eventually, my instincts will kick in and shut up that voice inside of me thatswearsthis is fine.
My eyes catch on a padlock hanging from the door to one of the concrete buildings. There’s something inside of there that he wants to keep hidden.But what?
My stomach churns, imagining the possibilities. Maybe I don’t want to know what he’s hiding.
I spin around and see that the other gray building’s padlock is hanging open on the u-bar. Someone must’ve forgotten to lock it up. Before I can change my mind, I quickly stroll across the lawn, scanning the area to make sure that no one is around, then I remove the padlock. I close the door behind me, then put the padlock on the ground right beside the door.
Inside, it’s warm and dark. A fan pumps against me, the pressure rippling my tank top. Shelves line the walls, but I can’t see much. I search the wall until I find a switch.
Red lights flicker on, casting the room in an ominous glow. Each shelf is stacked with small, transparent dishes, with white growths stretching across the inner surface like strange, pressed flowers. A door is in the back, and when I open that door to the next room, another fan blasts down on me.
I scan the second room and gasp.
Cylindrical plastic bags, full of dirt and some sort of white substance, are strung up from the ceiling, like body bags hanging in a walk-in freezer. Each bag is torn with holes, mushrooms growing out of each opening like bushes of fungus.
Why is Duane keeping these mushrooms locked up? Is he protecting them, or is this illegal?
Is that why he had that padlock on the outside?
This is crazy.
I’m not even sure what I’m seeing, so I take out my phone, snapping as many pictures as I can. The shutter echoes in the darkness, increasing the anxiety building inside of me. But when I check the gallery, the photos are red and blurry; you can’t see anything. So I switch on the flash, and the mushrooms illuminate under the strobe light as if they’re dancing in the darkness. These must be magic mushrooms—psilocybin mushrooms—a fungus illegal in most parts of the country. Evenmostplaces in California.
Maybe itwasa body in the back of his truck. If someone found out what he was doing, and he thought they were going to tell, what would he do with them?
My hands shake as I send my GPS location to my mom again, then I try to send her a picture of the mushrooms. But the pressure in the room changes, and a form goes through the fan. Boots thud against the cement as I stuff my phone in my pocket and try to reach for my stun gun, but it’s too late.
I spin around and come face to face with the barrel of a gun. My entire body goes rigid with fear.
“You don’t listen, do you?” Duane drawls, his voice low and full of warning. “I told you not to go looking for trouble.”
Chapter7
Reggie
The endof his gun comes into sharp focus, blurring everything around it. I tremble as my eyes move to meet Duane’s. His body is cast in red under the glow of the lamps, and there’s a tension in his expression that makes me tighten everywhere.
“Hand over the phone,” he orders.
Why does he want my phone? This mushroom buildinghasto be illegal.
But I can get out of this. I canlie.I can make something up—
“I’ve never seen a mushroom farm,” I say hesitantly. “I just thought I’d—”
“You and I both know what you thought,” he says, clenching his jaw. “Now, give me the fucking phone.”
His hand traces the hammer, locking it into position with a subtle click. I’m in his territory, but Todd and my mom know where I am. They know where to search for me if I go missing.
This isn’t where I die. I swear, it’s not.
But my lips quiver with nerves. I look from Duane’s eyes straight into the barrel of a gun.
I reach for my purse, but in a sharp movement, Duane uses his gun to knock my phone out of my hand. I gasp, shock flooding through my veins, but before I can pick it up, he hurls it at the wall. The screen shatters, and the device bangs into one of the mushroom bags, spilling some dirt onto the floor.
