At three thirty when I came out of detention, I found that all the spokes on both wheels of my bike had been cut and the frame and the seat were covered in ketchup, mustard, and toilet paper.
It was all a little much for me, so I left the bike and walked home. Once I got there I found Ma upstairs, sprawled out on the bathroom tile. I felt that familiar jolt of alarm like I did every time I found her facedown on the floor, but when I bent to roll her on her side, I saw that she was breathing normally.
It took a while, but eventually I managed to move her over to the bed and cover her with the blanket. On the nightstand were two empty bottles of vodka, and a third, half full. I took it to the sink and poured the clear liquid down the drain, knowing full well that it wouldn’t change anything.
Still irritated, I headed downstairs and found Mrs. Duncan’s casserole dish soaking in the sink. I scrubbed it until it gleamed, and by the time I finished, I was a little less angry. As I was drying the dish, my thoughts drifted to Stubby. I felt so guilty for getting him involved, and I wanted to help him so bad, but how?
Lost in thought, I moved to the kitchen table and sat down, thinking and thinking about any way I might be able to help him. I sat there for a very long time, wondering how I could convince the feds that I was telling the truth. Finally, the thread of an idea floated up in my mind, and I wondered if it was worth a try. Pulling out my new cell I called Donny, but as usual it went straight to voice mail.
After leaving him a message to call me, I grabbed my coat and the casserole dish and headed over to Mrs. Duncan’s.
It was starting to get dark, and when I reached the part in the driveway where I could cut over I heard a low rumble that reverberated somewhere down the street.
I squinted into the darkness—I could faintly see the outline of a large pickup truck, parked at the side of the road in the cul-de-sac at the end of the street. The truck’s engine was running, but the lights were off. My breath caught, and I held perfectly still. I wasn’t sure if the driver could see me in the dark because I was well out of the glow of the streetlight, but I had a sneaking suspicion that I was being watched.
Remembering the truck that’d chased me into the park, I turned toward Mrs. Duncan’s house and dashed up her drive to the back door, knocking loudly as I peered over my shoulder. Even before she answered it I saw a flash of black pass by, and I knew the truck had sped off.
She greeted me warmly and invited me inside. “Oh my, Maddie!” she exclaimed, taking a good look at my face. “Are you all right?”
I nodded and squared my shoulders. I didn’t want to worry Mrs. Duncan, especially since she lived alone. “Yes, ma’am,” I said, offering her the casserole dish. I really wanted to race back home and lock myself in my room until Donny called me back. “Everything’s fine. And thank you so much for the lasagna. It was awesome.”
She smiled proudly and put up her index finger. “Before you go running off,” she said, disappearing into her kitchen only to return a moment later with several Tupperware containers. “I made you and your mom some chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans,” she said. I was moved by her continuing kindness toward us.
“Mrs. Duncan,” I said, ready to refuse her offerings, because what could we give to her in return? “Thank you so much but—”
“Oh, and there’s some peanut butter cheesecake, too,” she said before I had a chance to say more. “Mr. Duncan used to rave about my cheesecakes!”
Her eyes sparkled every time she mentioned her late husband, and I realized that she missed taking care of someone. So I accepted the dinner as graciously as I could. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Duncan. Ma and I really appreciate it, and I’ll bring your containers back tomorrow.”
She beamed at me and waved as I left her house and ran straight across back to my own door, banging through it because I was still a little spooked. I tried to tell myself that it was a coincidence, but what if it wasn’t? What if the driver had somehow found out where I lived?
I shuddered as I set the containers on the kitchen counter, grateful to have something warm and delicious to eat for dinner. My phone rang as I was getting down a plate. Donny’s name flashed on the screen.
“Hey, there,” he said when I picked up. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just…I have an idea that might help Stubby.”
“Kiddo,” he said with a tired sigh. “I know this is hard for you, but anything you say or do can be used against you by the feds, so for now, let me worry about Stubs, okay?”
“Donny, please? Listen to my idea.”
My uncle sighed again. “Fine. Tell me what it is.”
“I want to give Wallace and Faraday a demonstration. If I can convince them that I really can see deathdates, maybe they’ll believe I’m telling the truth about everything else, and they’ll see that Stubby was only trying to help me warn Payton. I thought about it, and if we ask them to show me some photos of people who’ve already died and I prove to them that I can read deathdates in the past as easily as I can see them in the future, that might be a way to convince them I really see what I see.”
On the other end of the line Donny was quiet for a long time. Finally he said, “Listen, sweetheart, I don’t think it’s a good idea. It could backfire on us.”
“Donny,” I whispered, so frustrated and desperate I didn’t think I could stand it. “Stubby’s in jail with bad men. They could hurt him just for being weaker than they are.”
Donny was quiet for a bit. Then he said, “Maddie, I hate to break this to you, but Stubby may be in the safest place for him right now.”
My brow furrowed and I felt my temper flare, because Donny wasn’t listening. “What does that even mean, Donny? You think it’s safe for him in jail? Are you kidding?”
“He’s been getting death threats,” he said.