At the Quiet Edge(37)

Josephine’s fingers brushed his shoulder. “It all happened a long time ago. You don’t really need to worry.”

But Everett could hear the forced lightness in her words. If he didn’t need to worry, they wouldn’t be out here.

They paused at the barrier of another fence. Josephine pointed. “If we cut across that field, I think we can sneak up behind the brown house.”

They ducked through the barbed wire, then hobbled across a plowed field that was alternately muddy and clumped with dried lumps of soil. But Josephine had been right. They were able to travel diagonally across it until they were behind the brown house that shielded Alex Bennick’s home.

There were only three houses in this cluster, each of them on lots of at least a couple of acres. The brown house was protected from wind by a row of tall, thin evergreen trees, so Everett felt pretty sure they wouldn’t be spotted as they crept toward the corner for a better view of the Bennick property. Most of Everett’s earlier excitement had settled into a low buzz of anxiety, and his mouth felt coated with dry grit.

He stuck his head out. “Looks quiet,” he whispered, but as soon as the words left his lips, the side door of the Bennick house sprang open, and a man stepped out. Everett yelped, grabbing Josephine’s arm to tug her more securely behind the edge of the last tree.

After a few heartbeats, she pulled her arm free and leaned back out again. “Is that him?”

“No, that guy is a lot younger.”

“He’s getting into that truck.”

Everett leaned carefully past Josephine to look, narrowing his eyes as the man started the SUV and backed out. He looked exactly like a normal person. Suspicious. The vehicle turned onto the road and drove away, leaving them in utter silence. Even the birds weren’t singing.

He took a deep breath and said, “Let’s go look,” determined to be brave.

“Everett, I don’t know . . .”

“That’s what we came out here for.”

“But we don’t even know who that is!”

“Whoever he is, he’s gone now, so this is the perfect time.”

After studying his face for a moment, Josephine tipped her chin in agreement. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

For one shuddering heartbeat, he realized he’d hoped she would at least try to stop him, to give him a minute to reconsider and think. But he had to be sure for the sake of his mom, didn’t he? She’d talked to Alex Bennick when he’d rented the place. She might have walked him over, stood alone with him in that echoing, shadowed locker . . .

And then Josephine was taking Everett’s hand and pulling him from his hesitation. They ducked low to race across the broken grass, and there was no more time to think.

He focused on the bright-green spot of a dandelion sprouting ahead and tried to pretend he was in a movie. It didn’t quite feel real, especially with her hand wrapped tight in his. He hadn’t even known Josephine two weeks ago, and now she was his closest friend.

And his partner in crime.

He steered her toward the back wall so they wouldn’t be in full view of the neighbor in the brown house, and they both pressed themselves close to the siding near a window. For a long while they just breathed, settling their hearts, until Everett finally nodded.

“I’ll look,” he whispered, braver now that his heart was pumping hard. He eased his face just far enough over to see into the house with one eye. “Kitchen. It looks empty.”

Josephine popped up next to him to look too. “Lights are off.”

They tiptoed to the next window to look, then dared to slide around the side of the house. Every window showed dark and unoccupied rooms. A few minutes after they arrived, they were at the side door. The wooden interior door stood open, and only a storm door protected the home.

He reached for the handle.

“You’re not going in, are you?” Josephine whispered.

“We’re only twelve,” he responded so softly he could barely hear it himself. “They can’t arrest us, right?” But then he thought of everything he’d seen on the news about people of color and the police and shook his head. “You should stay here,” he said to Josephine. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“Oh, I’m not dumb enough to go in there.”

He eased the door open, wincing at the faint squeak of hinges. His mom never left anything unlocked, but he knew it was common practice for other people. He slid inside and froze to listen but heard nothing except his own terrified pulse and his brain screaming at him to stop stop stop and get out right now.

Trying to ignore his sudden need to pee, he took a couple of steps toward the living room, wincing at the crackle of old linoleum beneath his shoes. The kitchen still smelled of bacon and a faint hint of dish soap. But even serial killers had to wash dishes, he figured. Still it was a warning of how near he’d come to crossing paths with someone in this house.

When a floorboard creaked beneath him, he winced and held his breath until he saw stars in his eyes. Nothing happened. No sound of anyone else.

Once he caught his wind again, he moved on, stepping as lightly as he could. He crossed the threshold onto carpet and found himself in a big rectangle of a room packed with shelves and an easy chair and lamps and even a piano.

The giant cube of an ancient TV hulked in one corner, large enough to have pictures perched on top of it. Everett headed straight for the pictures.