caption that read, “Teen wanted for questioning as prime suspect in triple homicide.”
The article described the crime scene as a farmhouse just outside of King City. It had burned, and the remains of three people had been discovered inside. The bodies were identified as the father, mother, and daughter of a family of four; the fourth family member, the teenage son, was missing. Or not, she thought and turned to look at him lying on her floor.
Turning her attention back to the article, she continued reading. A gasping intake of breath startled her, and she dropped the paper and scrambled to retrieve her gun. Planting her feet in a solid stance, she took aim at Reed’s forehead.
He lay still, his eyes–which were back to their brilliant blue color–open wide. Silence stretched between them. Reed watched Sarah, waiting, and she was surprised he wasn’t grimacing in pain from his bullet wound. Had it already healed?
Reed’s glance flickered down to his chest, then back at Sarah. “You didn’t stake me,” he said.
Sarah’s pressed her lips together, anger bubbling up inside her. “Lucky for you, I forgot my stake in the car last night.”
“What?” Reed’s brow crinkled in confusion. “Oh . . . you’re being sarcastic. I get it. Look, I know saying sorry doesn’t cut it, but I’ve never bitten anyone be fore, and I didn’t mean to, and–” He stopped mid-sentence and sniffed. He continued sniffing and spotted the garlic lying on the floor beside him. “What is that?”
“Nothing,” Sarah replied. Her mind whirled in circles. Why was she hesitating? She should stop talking to him and call 9-1-1. Something wasn’t right here; this kid had gotten himself involved in something deep, and she had a feeling he needed help.
“Garlic?” he asked, eyeing her.
“And a silver teapot,” she added.
That seemed to startle him and he tried to squirm away from the pot. There wasn’t much space for him to move and the ropes severely hampered him. Sarah grew more curious while she watched him wriggle a couple inches away from the pot. Interesting. He was afraid of the silver, even though nothing had happened when she’d touched him with it. She wondered why he wasn’t attempting to break free of the ropes. Was he not strong enough to do so? Or was he scoping out the situation before making another mad dash out of her place?
Sarah picked up the discarded newspaper and shoved the article in his face. “Is this you?” she asked, holding the paper so he could read it. She waited for him to get the gist of the article. “Well?”
He gave her a sad look. “Yeah, but . . . I didn’t kill them. I didn’t kill my own family!”
Truth. She could read his mind again, now that he was awake, and he was telling her the truth, or at least he believed what he was saying. “Listen, Reed. It’s time for you to tell me what’s going on. I might be able to help you. That’s what I do. I help people who are in trouble. That’s what I’ve dedicated my life to. I’ll show you some trust, if you do the same for me, okay?” Sarah paused for a moment to let her words sink in. “If I remove this rope, are you going to try to run away again?”
His eyes searched hers as he weighed his options. Then he shook his head.
Truth. She leaned over him, and started to undo the knots she’d tied in the rope. Her fingers brushed against the back of his hand and he felt warm, not cold like an undead corpse. He watched her intently while she continued her work. When the rope was loose enough, he sat up and shrugged out of it. Sarah pointed to her couch, motioning for him to take a seat, and he obliged, looking defeated.
“How’s your . . . injury?” she asked. He hadn’t moved like someone in pain.
“I’m okay. I heal really fast,” he said.
What an understatement! Things were getting stranger by the minute. “All right,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Tell me what’s going on.” She leaned back, and
The article described the crime scene as a farmhouse just outside of King City. It had burned, and the remains of three people had been discovered inside. The bodies were identified as the father, mother, and daughter of a family of four; the fourth family member, the teenage son, was missing. Or not, she thought and turned to look at him lying on her floor.
Turning her attention back to the article, she continued reading. A gasping intake of breath startled her, and she dropped the paper and scrambled to retrieve her gun. Planting her feet in a solid stance, she took aim at Reed’s forehead.
He lay still, his eyes–which were back to their brilliant blue color–open wide. Silence stretched between them. Reed watched Sarah, waiting, and she was surprised he wasn’t grimacing in pain from his bullet wound. Had it already healed?
Reed’s glance flickered down to his chest, then back at Sarah. “You didn’t stake me,” he said.
Sarah’s pressed her lips together, anger bubbling up inside her. “Lucky for you, I forgot my stake in the car last night.”
“What?” Reed’s brow crinkled in confusion. “Oh . . . you’re being sarcastic. I get it. Look, I know saying sorry doesn’t cut it, but I’ve never bitten anyone be fore, and I didn’t mean to, and–” He stopped mid-sentence and sniffed. He continued sniffing and spotted the garlic lying on the floor beside him. “What is that?”
“Nothing,” Sarah replied. Her mind whirled in circles. Why was she hesitating? She should stop talking to him and call 9-1-1. Something wasn’t right here; this kid had gotten himself involved in something deep, and she had a feeling he needed help.
“Garlic?” he asked, eyeing her.
“And a silver teapot,” she added.
That seemed to startle him and he tried to squirm away from the pot. There wasn’t much space for him to move and the ropes severely hampered him. Sarah grew more curious while she watched him wriggle a couple inches away from the pot. Interesting. He was afraid of the silver, even though nothing had happened when she’d touched him with it. She wondered why he wasn’t attempting to break free of the ropes. Was he not strong enough to do so? Or was he scoping out the situation before making another mad dash out of her place?
Sarah picked up the discarded newspaper and shoved the article in his face. “Is this you?” she asked, holding the paper so he could read it. She waited for him to get the gist of the article. “Well?”
He gave her a sad look. “Yeah, but . . . I didn’t kill them. I didn’t kill my own family!”
Truth. She could read his mind again, now that he was awake, and he was telling her the truth, or at least he believed what he was saying. “Listen, Reed. It’s time for you to tell me what’s going on. I might be able to help you. That’s what I do. I help people who are in trouble. That’s what I’ve dedicated my life to. I’ll show you some trust, if you do the same for me, okay?” Sarah paused for a moment to let her words sink in. “If I remove this rope, are you going to try to run away again?”
His eyes searched hers as he weighed his options. Then he shook his head.
Truth. She leaned over him, and started to undo the knots she’d tied in the rope. Her fingers brushed against the back of his hand and he felt warm, not cold like an undead corpse. He watched her intently while she continued her work. When the rope was loose enough, he sat up and shrugged out of it. Sarah pointed to her couch, motioning for him to take a seat, and he obliged, looking defeated.
“How’s your . . . injury?” she asked. He hadn’t moved like someone in pain.
“I’m okay. I heal really fast,” he said.
What an understatement! Things were getting stranger by the minute. “All right,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Tell me what’s going on.” She leaned back, and
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