chapter 4
Katelyn began to swing wildly at whatever held her.
“Kat! It’s me!”
Justin. He was there and he was shaking her by the shoulders. She batted crazily at him.
“What’s wrong with you?” he demanded, dodging her hands.
“The Hellhound!” she cried, pushing away from him. “Oh, my God, Justin, run!”
“No way. Not that again.” A flash of irritation crossed his face. “You just got turned around and freaked yourself out.” He grabbed her hands in both of his, jerking on them when she wouldn’t stay still. “Damn it, Kat.”
Panting, she looked back over her shoulder. The shadows were gone. “It was coming this way,” she insisted. “I know you heard the groans.” She looked down at her hands in his, and he let go. She almost grabbed onto him but he turned away and started walking. “Justin, there was something.”
As she kept close behind him, she could practically feel that something was watching her.
Letting her go.
For now.
Seconds later they were back in the clearing. And there stood Lee Fenner with a stopwatch in his hand. Back from wherever he had gone, he was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved chambray shirt. He was very tall, with a shock of white hair, and his tanned face was lined like a worn leather satchel. In human form, he had nearly torn the hair from her head in a fury when she’d failed to act properly obedient. Swallowing hard, she tried to stay calm, but it was very difficult to pretend that she wasn’t scared to death.
He looked from the stopwatch to her, lids narrowing until his amber eyes were two golden slits. He clicked the timer and frowned at her. “Well, your leg’s not broken,” he said. “You’re not covered in blood. So what the hell took you so long?”
“She got lost,” Justin said before she could say anything. He squeezed her shoulder hard, a warning to stay quiet. “She’ll get the hang of it.”
Mr. Fenner grunted and trained his steely gaze on Justin. “That’s up to you, isn’t it, boy?”
“Yessir,” Justin said. “But you should have seen her, Uncle Lee. She’s a gymnast and she’s got moves we can use when we hunt. She was up in the trees like a monkey. She can climb up, look for prey. I’m thinking when she starts keeping her memory, she could do great moves when she’s changed, too.”
Mr. Fenner cocked a brow. “Oh?”
Katelyn quavered under his gaze. Could he have been the thing trailing after her? He wasn’t winded, and he was fully dressed. “I’ve been studying gymnastics for years.”
He grunted. “Maybe you’ll be useful after all.” He held up a warning finger. “You don’t say a word about any of this to your grandpa. Your training. Us. Not one word.”
“I haven’t and I won’t.” She tried to keep her voice steady. As he glared at her, she lowered her head to show respect . . . and so that he couldn’t see her clamped jaw. He was a tyrant, and she hated him as much as she feared him.
“Now get her home,” he ordered, and sauntered off in the direction of the house.
Avoiding Justin’s gaze as well, Katelyn headed for the motorcycle. But Justin gently brushed her forearm with his fingertips. It was a soft, kind gesture.
“We’ll take the truck,” he said. “You’re too tired to hang onto me for that long.”
“I, um, lost my cell phone,” she said. She didn’t want to tell him, but neither did she want him finding it and investigating it too closely.
“No, you didn’t,” he said, pulling it out of his pocket and handing it to her.
She stared at him as she wrapped her hand around it. How had he gotten hold of it? Had he found something on there that would get her in trouble, like a new message from Cordelia? As much as she wanted to check the phone, she kept her attention riveted on his face.
“How?” she asked.
“Werewolves can move very fast, Kat. You’re not used to it yet, but you’ll get there. I programmed my number in,” he added.
“Not cool,” she said. And then before he could tell her to act more respectfully, she lowered her head.
He didn’t respond, just headed for the truck, forcing her to follow. As they climbed into the vehicle, every one of Katelyn’s senses went on alert and she moved as far away from him as she could, gripping the armrest. Then Mr. Fenner appeared at Katelyn’s window, rapping lightly at it. Startled, she fumbled for the button to unroll it, but Justin hadn’t turned the key yet and the electric function didn’t work. She opened the door.
“Tell your mother to get home,” he said. “It’s going to rain.”
Katelyn was stunned. He was talking to her as though she was Cordelia. She slid a glance at Justin, who cleared his throat and started the engine.
“Sure will, Uncle Lee,” he said. “We’ll go tell her right now.”
“Good. Good.” Mr. Fenner nodded and stepped away from the truck. Katelyn shut the door and sat unmoving as Justin headed for the main road.
“He’s stressed,” Justin said. “You know Cordelia was his favorite.” He glanced at her as he turned to the left. “You haven’t heard from her, have you?”
Was he testing her? Did he already know the answer? Had Cordelia texted her again, and he’d seen it? She itched to check out her phone.
“I won’t give up on finding her,” Justin said, as if he could read her mind. “I’ll make sure she’s safe. I promise you, Kat.”
She heard the caring in his voice, the concern, and tried to say thank you, but she was too upset. She leaned her head against the window, then thought of all that had happened and pulled away, half imagining that the Hellhound would hurtle itself at the window and crash through the glass.
“He thought I was her,” she said, deliberately not answering his question. “And that Cordelia’s mother — his wife — was still alive . . . I didn’t know what to do.”
“You did fine,” he assured her. “Best thing to do is just say and do as little as possible.”
“Why?”
He chewed the inside of his cheek as if considering his words very carefully. “Uncle Lee has always been a very dangerous man. His condition — this dementia — now makes him unpredictable as well as dangerous.”
She swallowed. “All that talk of killing . . . it’s not just talk, is it?”
Justin focused his sea-blue eyes on her. He looked so serious, dead sober. “No. He really is willing to kill you, and your grandfather. The secret has to be protected, and that’s just him doing his job.”
She shivered. She had known that was the answer, and she could tell that Justin was being completely honest. “Has he ever had to kill before?” she asked.
Justin was silent for a long time. “There have been challenges,” he said softly at last.
The hair stood up on her arms. Challenges. Fights to the death. It was so awful and barbaric. So totally unbelievable.
“But, family, it’s so important to him,” she said.
“Not as important as his duty to keep the pack secure.”
And somehow she sensed that they were no longer talking about her or Cordelia. His jaw was clenched, his chin raised. She traced his sharp profile with her gaze. The tension in the truck was nearly unbearable.
“What is it?” she asked quietly.
“Don’t ever cross him, Kat. I couldn’t bear to lose you, too.”
“Too?” she whispered, barely remembering to breathe.
He hunched his shoulders. “When it was clear what was starting to happen to Uncle Lee . . . my father . . . my father went to have a talk with him.”
She felt her heart skip a beat. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying two men walked into those woods and only one walked out.”
“You don’t think . . . I thought your dad was killed in a hunting accident.”
“That’s what Lee tells everyone. I have my reasons to think differently.”
“Justin,” she breathed, “I’m so sorry. And now you have to live with him. How can you even stand to look at him?”
“He’s my alpha . . . for now.”
And those last two words hung in the air between them, and Katelyn knew in her heart that one day Justin was planning on making a challenge.
“You called me your secret weapon,” she whispered.
“No one can know about your immunity,” he said. “No one.”
I bet I’d be Mr. Fenner’s favorite if he knew I was immune to silver, she thought, but she just nodded as the truck slipped into the dark woods; as, in the blackness, the world disappeared.
Click. Click. Click.
Nails on wood.
Nails on glass.
And leering down at her.
Eyes.
Burning eyes.
Watching from above.
What big eyes you have.
The better to see you with.
Click. Click. Click.
Nails on the floor.
Hot breath whispering on her cheek.
Sleep, beast of silver.
Katelyn’s new tires came in, and her grandfather put them on her Subaru, which meant that Trick didn’t need to drive her to school anymore. Seeing her riding with Justin had obviously pissed Trick off, but he couldn’t quite keep his distance; Katelyn told herself it didn’t matter what he thought of her, but it did.
Driving through the woods alone, though, she couldn’t help but think of running through them as something called her name. She kept the car doors locked and seriously rethought her grandfather’s offer of a gun. Would regular bullets work on a werewolf or a Hellhound, or would only silver bullets work?
She and Cordelia had researched the Hellhound when they had begun their history class report on the lost Madre Vena silver mine. According to legend, the Hellhound guarded the rich cache of ore and silver treasure deep inside the mine. Cordelia’s father had been pushing her to find the Madre Vena, and Katelyn wondered if she had done so. After all, she had lied to Katelyn about having one of the books they’d been looking for. All that time hunting for it, and Cordelia had kept it hidden in her room all along. Maybe that was why Cordelia had been so certain that the Hellhound was real. Maybe she’d seen it.
Katelyn wanted that book. She wanted to know why Cordelia had lied to her.
And if the Hellhound’s real, I want to know how to steer clear of it.
She didn’t want to be its third victim. Whispers had gone around school that Haley and Becky had died horribly. Apparently Sergeant Lewis had said he’d never seen anything like it and the morgue technician had thrown up when he’d seen Becky’s mangled body.
She thought again about just bailing. And then, as usual, her resolve crumbled when she imagined being hunted down. They might do something to her grandfather or Trick in retaliation. She didn’t know if she was being a coward, or a hero, or a realist. At night, lying on her bed, she stared at the statue of her mother in the moonlight, and wondered what it felt like to completely give up. Her mom would never have given up.
But she wasn’t sure where the line was drawn between giving up and giving in.
~
On Wednesday morning, her grandfather looked at her across the breakfast table with a strange look on his face. He took a sip of coffee and tapped the table idly with his fingertips. “You okay?” he asked.
She sat up straighter and pasted on a smile. “Yeah, fine. You?”
“Same.”
But she looked at him more closely and realized that he seemed tired, more so than she’d ever noticed before. “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”
He paused while he sipped his cup of coffee. “The break-in is still bothering me,” he admitted after he put the cup down.
She blinked at him in surprise. She wasn’t used to him being so straight with her. Should she have somehow known that he’d been upset? Had the weight of what had happened to her made her oblivious to other people’s concerns?
She sipped her coffee as she formulated her response, remembering her own feelings when she’d realized Justin had taken her phone.
“Were the paintings valuable?” she asked.
Mordecai took another sip of coffee, and light streaming through the curtains filigreed the gray stubble on his chin. “One of them was a landscape I painted for your grandmother. The other was just something my father picked up at an estate sale when I was a kid. No money in either of them.”
He scratched his chin and rested his hand on the table. His face changed, hardened. “The silver belonged to your grandmother, and before her, my mother. I was planning on giving it to you someday when you got married.” Pink rose in his cheeks. “Whole family heirloom thing, you know.”
She stared at him, touched. She had nothing from her parents, thanks to the earthquake and house fire caused by it, and the thought of having something like that was beautiful. White-hot anger flashed through her as she realized the thieves hadn’t just stolen from him but also from her.
“Do the police have any leads? Is there a place around here that someone would go to pawn something like that?”
“Pat already put the word out.”
She reached across the table and gripped his hand. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered around the sudden lump in her throat. “You know there’s places online where you can buy old silver patterns and things like that. My mom sold some of her stuff after Dad died.”
“Then I’m glad she never wanted your grandmother’s,” he said with a sad smile. “No, it’s irreplaceable. My dad was a silversmith. He made each piece by hand for my mom.”
Katelyn blinked in surprise. “My great-grandfather was a silversmith?”
“Your dad didn’t tell you that? He was a fine craftsman. The shame of it is those pieces of silverware were the only things he made that I had.”
That was when she realized just how much she and her grandfather had in common. They’d both lost everyone, everything that really mattered to them. Maybe fate had put them together for a reason. Maybe someday she could even find him something that his dad had made.
If Mr. Fenner didn’t kill both of them first.
Katelyn had hated leaving her grandfather alone in the cabin, but she finally did. She made it into her history class just as the bell was ringing. Mrs. Walker was substituting for Mr. Henderson again. A few minutes into the hour, Sergeant Lewis and Mr. Hastings strode into the room and Mrs. Walker looked up from her book as the students fell quiet and expectantly waited to find out what was up. Katelyn could feel her own chest tighten, and her skin prickled with anxiety. Had they found Mr. Henderson? Cordelia?
Mr. Hastings cleared his throat. The look on his face spoke volumes — something was terribly wrong. Katelyn's thoughts flew again to Cordelia.
“Students,” he began, “I wanted to let you know that Mr. Henderson has officially been declared a missing person.”
Gasps rose up from around the room. Katelyn tensed, in case there was more bad news. In her experience, it usually came in threes, or fours, or sixes.
“Now, if anyone knows anything, we’d appreciate you coming forward and telling us so that we can find him quickly, before anything . . .” He trailed off.
Before anything bad happens to him, Katelyn filled in. But he knows that something bad might have already happened to Mr. Henderson.
In the front row, a girl raised her hand.
Mr. Hastings acknowledged her. “Yes, Gretchen?”
“What about Cordelia? She hasn’t been in school all week.”
Katelyn had been wondering how long it would be before people started to question Cordelia’s absence. When Katelyn had first moved to Wolf Springs, Trick had warned her that gossip and rumors moved with G4 speed — the only G4 there was to be had in town.
“Cordelia’s family has contacted the school about her situation,” Mr. Hastings said. “It’s a private matter that we’re not at liberty to discuss.”
That caused several more ripples through the room. Katelyn wondered what story the Fenners had concocted.
Gretchen leaned sideways and whispered to another girl, “They were close, Mr. Henderson and Cordelia.”
Katelyn’s face went hot and she closed her eyes in dismay. No, she thought. No, don’t do this.
“Are you okay?” someone murmured as a hand rested on her shoulder.
It was Beau, who had warned her to get out of Wolf Springs because of the killings. Of course, that had been before she had become a werewolf. Now she needed to tell him that she didn’t want to investigate the killings around Wolf Springs; that she didn’t want to investigate the current deaths, or the ones Beau said his own grandmother had told him had happened half a century before. A massacre, she’d called it. A killing field.
“I’m fine,” she murmured, studying the varnished surface of her desk.
“I gotta tell you something,” he persisted. “My grandma had a stroke. She was yelling something fierce the other night, said she saw a demon in her window.”
Katelyn was stunned. A werewolf?
“She just screamed ‘Demon! Sweet Jesus protect me!’ and then she collapsed.” Beau looked wan. “She’s not doing too well.”
She saw the unspoken plea on his face. He wanted her to help him find out what it was that his grandmother had seen. She’d been so intrigued about everything his grandmother had said about Wolf Springs before — that the town was “a banked fire,” according to her, and that every forty or fifty years or so something happened, something terrible, something epically bad. That the animals went crazy, and then people died.
That it was starting again.
She’d asked her grandfather about it. But now, she didn’t dare involve Beau. If the answers pointed to the existence of werewolves, she’d be signing Beau’s death warrant. She resolutely opened the book on her desk and stared at the words, but the letters swam before her eyes.
“Kat?” he prodded.
“Beau, I — I just don’t want to talk about . . . things,” she whispered.
Mr. Hastings and the police sergeant walked out of the classroom, leaving a buzz of whispers and texts in their wake. Gretchen was holding court, shredding Cordelia’s reputation as she made insinuating remarks about cozy “meetings” with Mr. Henderson to discuss her “history project.” Everything in poisonous air quotes, of course. Katelyn had been at those meetings and they had discussed their history paper and their bibliography and his interest in the silver mine. There was no more chemistry between Cordelia and their teacher than between Cordelia and Coach Ambrose. But the seed of a juicy rumor had been planted, and it was taking root. In a tiny town like Wolf Springs, it would be a tangled thorn patch before lunchtime.
I should speak up for her. I should say something, Katelyn thought. Or not.
“That’s not true. They didn’t. None of that is true,” she blurted suddenly, and heads turned to stare at her. She looked hard at Gretchen. “You know it’s not.”
Gretchen just raised a brow and smiled knowingly. Then she turned her back on Katelyn and slid a sly glance at the girl sitting beside her. The other girl smiled back. There was more than one kind of wolf in Wolf Springs, and Gretchen was busily raising her status in the pack through the power of gossip. Katelyn had no idea if it was a battle she should take on, but she couldn’t stand by and let Gretchen do that to her friend. And she was still Cordelia’s friend, even if Cordelia was blaming her for what had happened.
“It wasn’t like that,” she said again.
Beau patted her arm. “It’s okay, Kat. No one believes it.”
And she felt even guiltier for not offering to help him find out what had frightened his grandmother, and what threatened their town.
What did they believe around here? she wondered. What did they know?
~
That afternoon, Katelyn told Justin about what people were saying about Cordelia. They were standing in the Fenner kitchen filling up two water bottles, and she blurted out the horrible gossip about Mr. Henderson. He blinked and guffawed, but when he saw how upset she was, he leaned forward as if to brush her cheek with a kiss. It was the way pack members acknowledged and comforted each other. But he pulled back before his lips made contact with her skin.
“You can kiss her,” his older brother said, coming up behind them. “She’s not a stranger.”
Jesse Fenner had Down’s syndrome and Cordelia had told Katelyn that one of the reasons for Justin moving the two of them into the Fenner house had been because he needed help taking care of his older brother — help that was often provided, Katelyn knew, by Justin’s girlfriend Lucy, when she was there. For the most part, Jesse stayed at home because he couldn’t be trusted to keep the family secret — he was so trusting and, left to his own devices, might talk to anyone. Sometimes, though, he got to go to the pharmacy to visit LaRue, the cat there, while a prescription was filled for some kind of medication he was on. Jesse wanted a cat in the worst way.
“I know she’s not a stranger, buddy,” Justin said. He smiled at his brother and screwed on the cap of his water bottle.
“I’m glad to see you, Kat,” Jesse said. “Justin’s glad, too.” He pulled a sad face. “I miss my cousin. Say her name, he’ll break your neck.” He mimicked doing just that, putting his fists together, then turning them in opposite directions.
Katelyn felt sick to her stomach.
“No one will ever hurt you, Jesse,” Justin said, and a fleeting expression passed over his features. It looked like anger, but Katelyn couldn’t decipher it before it was gone.
“I’m going to Lucy,” Jesse said. “She has some sour apple gum.” He grinned at Justin. “If you marry Kat, I can marry Lucy. She loves me more than you.”
“You’re a heartbreaker,” Justin said, feinting a punch at Jesse’s chin.
“You’re a neck breaker,” Jesse said, giggling and squirming away. “You, Justin, you’re a breaker!”
Then Jesse trotted out of the kitchen, leaving Justin and Katelyn alone again. Justin gave Katelyn a little eye-roll.
“What about Mr. Henderson?” she said, taking up where she’d left off. “What do you think happened to him?”
He shrugged. “Can’t say.”
“Or won’t?” she pushed. “Justin, two people have died. And a teacher at my school is missing. And I was attacked. And no one is doing anything—”
Before she realized what was happening, his hand was across her mouth. He pulled her hard against his chest and pressed his mouth against her ear.
“You don’t know that,” he whispered. “You don’t know half of what’s going on. And if you want to live through this, drop it. Now.”
It took her a moment to register that he was shaking.
“I can’t protect you if they . . . if he . . . if anyone hears you saying things like that,” he whispered. “Asking questions is dangerous. Please, don’t risk your life . . . or mine . . . that way.”
When he pulled his hand from her mouth, all she could do was stare up at him. He looked truly, genuinely afraid. She glanced toward the other room and thought about Jesse. Justin’s brother was the sweetest person in the whole world and he’d never do anything to hurt anybody. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t tell Lee or Lucy what he might have overheard. She swallowed hard and nodded. Justin worked so hard to make the whole werewolf thing seem normal, because it was, for him at least. Sometimes she actually relaxed enough to forget that she was living under the threat of death.
“I’ll be more careful,” she whispered, soft enough that she hoped only he could hear.
He bent down and brushed his lips against hers. She could taste the longing on his lips and felt herself respond to it. But she pushed away from him and shook her head.
Not careful, she mouthed to him. And Lucy — his girlfriend — was in the house. How could he come on to her like that when Lucy was about?
He hung his head, looking like a puppy who knew he’d done something wrong. And the expression was so endearing she wanted to kiss him again. What kind of girl was she? Hitting on another girl’s boyfriend? No.
Before she could move he shook himself and exited the room, leaving her a bit dazed.
That did not just happen.
Katelyn’s legs nearly gave way as she stood alone in the Fenner kitchen, her hand over her mouth, her heart thundering.
If you want to live through this . . .
She pressed her hand against her lips as her thoughts fuzzed away, leaving her in a stupor. What if Jesse had wandered back in and seen them kissing? Or Lucy?
Which was more dangerous: the nameless predator in the forest or the one named Lee Fenner? And did Justin really expect her not to do a thing to protect herself?
Maybe Justin was working behind the scenes to help her. Or maybe he was just out to help himself. She didn’t know. She didn’t understand how pack politics worked. It was even more complicated than high school! Back in L.A., while she and Kimi had always had friends, Katelyn had been too busy to figure out the rules of the popularity game. But the werewolves of Wolf Springs weren’t playing a game. They were deadly serious about fighting their way up the social ladder of pack dominance. Cordelia’s sisters had told their father about Katelyn to bust Cordelia for hiding the news — and a potential threat to the pack — from him; Katelyn was certain of it. They must have known Mr. Fenner was planning to name her his successor as alpha.
None of them seemed to be taking Katelyn’s attack seriously. Or maybe talking about it was forbidden because it made Mr. Fenner look bad. She was expected to keep all of them safe with her silence, but no one was doing anything to keep her safe. All they did was tell her to shut up and do as she was told.
All these strangers, including her grandfather, wanted to control her. What on earth had he been thinking of in bringing her here? First he forced her to live in a cabin in the middle of the forest; then he warned her not to go into the forest by herself; but then he got her a car so she could drive through there alone. His solution to the whole mess seemed to be to teach her how to shoot.
She clenched her teeth. She was done with holding her breath in case she did or said the wrong thing.
“Screw this,” she said aloud.
She walked down the hall and went into Cordelia’s bedroom. It was very pretty, decorated in green and lavender. On the other side of the room, a sliding door led to one of the courtyards dominated by a tree; and from there, to the forest. Her walls were lined with cheerleading trophies and photographs. It all looked so normal.
Katelyn stood in the dim light. Her bravado was fading, and she figured she’d get in trouble if she was found there. But she needed answers.
Cordelia’s bed was unmade. Her school textbooks sat in the center of the bed — she clearly studied the way Katelyn did, in bed, probably with earbuds in, too. The countdown to the full moon had been murder, but Cordelia had reminded her that even if her life changed that drastically, she would still have a life. That what she did day-by-day would still matter. That included high school and homework.
Katelyn quickly poked through Cordelia’s pile of books. The first thing she wanted to locate was the book Cordelia had initially lied about having — a book by a man named Theodore Switliski. Mr. Henderson had asked her about it, too. And now he was missing.
No luck; she crossed to the desk and examined the spines of a few more books piled there. Nothing.
Then she heard Jesse’s voice in the hall. “I pet LaRue softly, softly,” he said. “Don’t want to break his neck.”
There was a beat. Then Lucy replied, “No, that’s one neck you do not want to break, sugar. But there are others,” she muttered.
Katelyn panicked. It sounded as if they were headed toward Cordelia’s room. Well, what of it? Could anyone blame her for going into the room of her absent best friend?
Yes, they would blame her.
“I left my Halloween candy in Cor . . . in her room,” Jesse said. “She gave me sour apple gum. And candy. I didn’t get to trick or treat.”
Katelyn looked around the room. Sure enough, she saw a plastic jack-o-lantern brimming with wrapped chocolate bars and lollipops.
“Sugar, we’re not supposed to go in that room,” Lucy said.
“Please,” he begged.
Something slammed against the door, not too hard, but hard enough to make her jerk. Grimacing, she darted to the sliding glass door to let herself out. It was locked. But she was stronger than she used to be, right? Should she try to force it?
“Okay, Jesse. Please, honey, stay calm. You know your Uncle Lee doesn’t like you to get too upset.”
“I want my sour apple!” he whined.
The closet. Katelyn darted back across the room, opened the door, and popped inside. There was a skylight overhead, bathing her in sunshine like a spotlight and she cringed, feeling vulnerable. Standing on top of a row of shoes, she also felt monumentally stupid. People who were werewolves had enhanced senses, including the sense of smell, and Lucy might realize she was inside the room. But she figured her scent was already present since she’d been in Cordelia’s room before.
The bedroom door creaked open and she pulled back into a wall of hanging clothing, then tried to breathe as quietly as possible.
“There it is,” Lucy said. Katelyn heard her footfalls go past the closet door. “Happy now?” They crossed back.
“I didn’t go trick or treating,” Jesse said. “A man came to our house. He and Uncle Lee were yelling.”
“Yes, well, they made up,” Lucy said. “And look at all the candy you have. Oh, here’s the gum.”
Katelyn heard the rustling of paper. Jesse must be unwrapping a stick of sour apple. “Is she dead?”
“I’m sure she’s just fine. It’s nothing for you to worry about. I don’t want you to worry about anything, Jesse James.”
“You love me. You love me more than Justin.”
“Oh, honey, everyone loves you.”
“Justin loves Kat.”
Katelyn went numb. Without thinking, she sucked in her breath. Then she shut her eyes against a tide of panic, worried that she’d made too much noise.
“You know your brother likes pretty girls,” Lucy said after a pause. “But they’re, well, they’re like candy. They’re not all that good for your health.”
What did that mean? Was she threatening Justin?
“I brush my teeth,” Jesse said proudly.
“So does Justin. Now let’s get out of here before we get in trouble, okay? Let’s leave it a secret that we even came in here.”
“I’m good at secrets,” Jesse said.
“That’s good, darlin’.”
The bedroom door opened and closed. Katelyn exhaled slowly. She tried to step off Cordelia’s shoes and wobbled to the right. She put her hand out to steady herself . . . and her hand went right through a poster of a wolf baying at the moon taped to the closet wall. Then she realized that there was an opening just behind it, like a little wall safe.
And there were some things inside. She reached in, and the first thing she pulled out was Ozark Folklore, by Theodore Switliski. The “missing” book that Cordelia “didn’t” have. Next Katelyn found what appeared to be a purple-bound blank book. Curious, Katelyn opened it.
. . . I don’t know why he’s so obsessed with finding the mine. I’m scared we will find it, and then he’ll do something to Kat.