torn down for good, Roy jumped in and said heâd fix whatever needed fixing so he could use it for the Triggers.
The town council had approved, and since it was technically on Bunnyâs property she gave her okay, too. Roy had reinforced the structure of the building, and it looked okay, from a distance at least. It was still pretty old.
The front double doors of the barn could be opened wide,wide enough to allow the Triggers to travel through. The doors were typically swung open because the barn had also become a tourist attraction, bringing a few curious people around Bunnyâs as well as down the paths in between the boardwalk buildings to see the goings-on inside. Roy had been a welcoming figure and heâd found a new small bit of fame with his summer role this year.
But at the moment the doors were closed. A couple reasons for this occurred to me. Maybe Roy had gotten hung up somewhere and hadnât made it to the barn yet, or maybe he was working on some top-secret addition for the Triggers and he didnât want to be bothered by curious tourists.
I pulled on the right door. No,
pull
was too delicate a word; I
heaved
the heavy right door open, using both hands and stepping backwards as I moved.
âRoy?â I called as I walked inside.
The barn was jam-packed. The three Trigger wagons fit snuggly next to one another, and there were pieces of equipment and worktables everywhere else. A number of coiled ropes hung from long nails that had been pounded into the wood-planked walls. The ropes had been there when Roy took over the barn. I asked him why he hadnât removed them, but he said there was some Broken Rope superstition about removing those particular ropes from their resting places. Iâd never heard the superstition, but I was all for not messing with juju.
âRoy?â I called again.
Still no answer. Evidently, he hadnât arrived yet. But Iâd seen him ready the Triggers enough times to know what I needed to do.
I stepped carefully around the machine at the end, which was Trigger One and the one I drove, and threw my bag intothe space below the driverâs side of the bench seat. The machines had brakes, but Roy always placed bricks on each side of the wheels when they were parked. I had a faint memory of him working on some brakes recently, but I couldnât remember which Trigger had been involved or why. Everything looked fine so I picked up the first two bricks and carried them to a small table against the wall. I did the same with the next two bricks, but when I went back toward Trigger One to pull the bricks from another wheel, I stopped in my tracks. I was frozen solid, just like Iâd heard happened to people when they came upon something that wasnât quite right. The scene before me was not only not right, it was horrifying and sickening.
After I unfroze myself, I hurried to the body on the ground. I had no thoughts of protecting evidence. I was merely trying to help the person who I quickly determined was beyond help.
âDerek!â I said as I tried without much success to roll his big body over.
âDerek!â I said again, but he still didnât answer.
There was no mistaking the vacant look in his eyes. He was dead. The side, top, and back of his head were covered in blood, but I couldnât see any specific wound through all the mess.
I was about to exclaim his name again, though I understood that he wasnât going to answer, when stars suddenly circled in front of my own eyes. A second later I realized there was pain to go with the stars. Someone had hit me on the back of my head. Before I passed out, thinking I was headed toward my own death, I managed to do two things: I eliminated Derek from the list of people who might have hit me, and I wondered if Iâd maybe see Jerome after Idied.
Chapter 5
âIsabelle, wake up,â the voice said. It was Jeromeâs voice, I was pretty sure.
âSo deathâs
The town council had approved, and since it was technically on Bunnyâs property she gave her okay, too. Roy had reinforced the structure of the building, and it looked okay, from a distance at least. It was still pretty old.
The front double doors of the barn could be opened wide,wide enough to allow the Triggers to travel through. The doors were typically swung open because the barn had also become a tourist attraction, bringing a few curious people around Bunnyâs as well as down the paths in between the boardwalk buildings to see the goings-on inside. Roy had been a welcoming figure and heâd found a new small bit of fame with his summer role this year.
But at the moment the doors were closed. A couple reasons for this occurred to me. Maybe Roy had gotten hung up somewhere and hadnât made it to the barn yet, or maybe he was working on some top-secret addition for the Triggers and he didnât want to be bothered by curious tourists.
I pulled on the right door. No,
pull
was too delicate a word; I
heaved
the heavy right door open, using both hands and stepping backwards as I moved.
âRoy?â I called as I walked inside.
The barn was jam-packed. The three Trigger wagons fit snuggly next to one another, and there were pieces of equipment and worktables everywhere else. A number of coiled ropes hung from long nails that had been pounded into the wood-planked walls. The ropes had been there when Roy took over the barn. I asked him why he hadnât removed them, but he said there was some Broken Rope superstition about removing those particular ropes from their resting places. Iâd never heard the superstition, but I was all for not messing with juju.
âRoy?â I called again.
Still no answer. Evidently, he hadnât arrived yet. But Iâd seen him ready the Triggers enough times to know what I needed to do.
I stepped carefully around the machine at the end, which was Trigger One and the one I drove, and threw my bag intothe space below the driverâs side of the bench seat. The machines had brakes, but Roy always placed bricks on each side of the wheels when they were parked. I had a faint memory of him working on some brakes recently, but I couldnât remember which Trigger had been involved or why. Everything looked fine so I picked up the first two bricks and carried them to a small table against the wall. I did the same with the next two bricks, but when I went back toward Trigger One to pull the bricks from another wheel, I stopped in my tracks. I was frozen solid, just like Iâd heard happened to people when they came upon something that wasnât quite right. The scene before me was not only not right, it was horrifying and sickening.
After I unfroze myself, I hurried to the body on the ground. I had no thoughts of protecting evidence. I was merely trying to help the person who I quickly determined was beyond help.
âDerek!â I said as I tried without much success to roll his big body over.
âDerek!â I said again, but he still didnât answer.
There was no mistaking the vacant look in his eyes. He was dead. The side, top, and back of his head were covered in blood, but I couldnât see any specific wound through all the mess.
I was about to exclaim his name again, though I understood that he wasnât going to answer, when stars suddenly circled in front of my own eyes. A second later I realized there was pain to go with the stars. Someone had hit me on the back of my head. Before I passed out, thinking I was headed toward my own death, I managed to do two things: I eliminated Derek from the list of people who might have hit me, and I wondered if Iâd maybe see Jerome after Idied.
Chapter 5
âIsabelle, wake up,â the voice said. It was Jeromeâs voice, I was pretty sure.
âSo deathâs
Similar Books
