Now that he’d seen that no one was obviously injured, Theo remembered Viggy. He’d left him alone with Gordon Schwartz. Flying down the stairs as quickly as he’d run up them, Theo hurried into the living room to find Gordon, still white-faced, sitting where Theo had left him.
“That wasn’t my fault,” Gordon said as soon as Theo rushed through the doorway. “If someone’s hurt, it’s not on me.”
“Get outside. The house isn’t safe.” Theo scanned the room, vaguely registering that Gordon had followed his command. All his attention was fixed on finding Viggy. He spotted the end of the leash protruding from behind the couch. “It’s over, Vig,” Theo said quietly, crouching next to the sofa. Viggy was shaking so hard that the couch vibrated. “Let’s go.”
The dog didn’t move. Dust sifted from the ceiling; they needed to get out. He pulled on the leash, sliding a resisting Viggy across the floor until Theo could reach him.
Theo knew there was no way that Viggy would walk out of the house on his own. Wrapping his arms around the dog, Theo lifted him. Viggy stiffened as his paws left the ground.
“Shh,” Theo soothed. “I’ve got you.”
After a moment, Viggy went limp. Theo carried him out of the house and through the gates.
“Is Vig okay?” Hugh called from where he stood by the lieutenant.
No. He’s not okay. We’re not okay. “He’s not hurt,” Theo answered, his voice rough.
Everyone else was quiet, subdued, as Theo carried Viggy through the crowd of officers toward his squad car. Theo kept his gaze locked in front of him, and let the numbness take over.
Chapter 8
Four Days Earlier
The cliffs towered above them to the left and dropped away to the right. Jules tapped a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel, hating that she was going twenty-five miles under the speed limit because the curvy mountain road into town completely freaked her out. At least the sun was high in the sky, so everything was well-lit. The scenery was beautiful—the craggy mountains surrounding them furred with evergreens and aspens until the bare blue-gray peaks stuck out above the tree line. Jules couldn’t appreciate the scenery, though. All she could do was concentrate on not driving her entire family off a cliff. There was a line of four or five cars behind them, so Jules steered into a pull-out and stopped to let them pass before entering the west-bound lane again. To add to her humiliation, one of the vehicles that passed her was an extra-long RV. Another was a semi.
Ty snorted. “You’re driving even slower than—”
“I know, Ty. Thanks,” she said dryly, trying not to snap. Her sleepless night and driving marathon, capped by this treacherous mountain road, drained her reservoir of good-natured comebacks and robbed her of her patience. Once she passed through a gap in the rocks barely wide enough for the two-lane road, houses and shops appeared, and the speed limit dropped to a much more tolerable twenty.
The kids were quiet as they looked around. “It’s small,” Ty said in a neutral voice.
“The last census put Monroe’s population at 18,538.”
Silence filled the SUV after Tio’s factoid, until Jules asked, “Is small good or bad?”
There was a silence as he—and possibly the other kids—considered the question. “I haven’t’ decided yet,” Tio finally said, and the others made sounds of agreement.
“Fair enough.” Jules was too tired and, at the same time, too wired to have any kind of first impression of their new town. “Sam, could you be my navigator?”
Sam picked up the handwritten directions. “T-turn right on B-B-Bridesw-well.”
“We passed Brideswell several blocks ago,” Tio said.
With a sigh, Jules turned on her right turn signal so she could go around the block and head back toward Brideswell. She was pretty sure this road trip would never end.
After that first false start, however, the directions were clear, and they found the right street number attached to a crooked mailbox. The deeply rutted driveway seemed to go on forever, twisting this way and that, the pine trees reaching their branches to brush against the Pathfinder. The closeness of the evergreens dimmed the sunny morning, and Jules’s simmering anxiety rose to a boil.
As she turned left, avoiding exposed tree roots and rocks that threatened to grab the tires, the trees thinned and the house came into view. The place had been white a long, long time ago, but all the exterior paint had faded to a wind-stripped gray. The front porch looked a little cockeyed, and the area in front of the house resembled a sparse hayfield rather than a lawn. A small, lopsided barn stood a short distance from the house.
Dez sucked in a breath. “There’s a barn, Jules. Can I get a horse?”
“Uh…” The question barely penetrated as she tried to take in the huge amount of work the house would require. Going from a shoebox of an apartment to this…there was no way. She wasn’t handy enough for this house.