The Overnight Guest(14)

One row was dedicated to antique farm equipment—tractors, hay rakes, manure spreaders, and seed drills; one row to old pickup trucks; another row to stacks of old tires.

“Look at all this junk,” Becky marveled. “What do they do with all of it?”

“Probably sell it,” Josie shrugged. “My grandpa likes old stuff like this.”

They called out for Roscoe but managed only to summon a mangy tabby cat and rouse a sleeping possum. The possum bared his sharp teeth at the girls causing the girls to squeal and clutch at each other.

Laughing nervously, the two watched as the possum scurried off into the brush with his long tail dragging in the dirt behind him.

The two girls parted ways briefly. Becky turned down the row that held all the antique farm equipment while Josie veered off behind the mountain of stacked tires.

Minutes later, the girls reunited at the end of the row. Josie looked back and saw a tall, thin man staring back at them. Uneasiness coiled in her stomach.

“Who’s that?” Josie asked.

Becky shrugged. “I think it’s that lady’s son. He just wanted to know what we were doing.”

“He looks creepy,” Josie observed.

“He did smell kind of bad.” Becky wrinkled her nose and the girls laughed.

Josie and Becky made their way back toward the Henley house. They waved goodbye to June Henley, who was sitting on her front porch steps. Josie looked over her shoulder to find the man still staring after them. She walked faster.

As they left the property, Josie noticed a wadded-up cloth in Becky’s hand. “What’s that?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Becky said and dropped it to the ground. The girls made the two-mile walk back toward the Doyle house, stopping along the way at Burden Creek. They carefully picked their way down the steep bank to the edge of the water. Because of the lack of rain, Burden Creek was much lower than usual and the smell of dead fish was strong.

It did stink, but that was just part of living out in the country. The sweet scent of mown hay intermingled with cow manure. The clean, crisp smell of laundry just pulled from the line suddenly smothered by the sharp, acrid smell that came from the nearby hog confinement.

Josie and Becky walked along the bank, yelling for Roscoe and pausing to catch the small spotted brown frogs who croaked and hopped about in the shallow water. Becky giggled as the slimy creature squirmed in her hands.

It was nearing 8:00 p.m., and though the sun was finally sliding behind the trees, the temperature still hung in the mideighties, and the air was heavy with humidity. Mosquitoes buzzed around their ears and harassed them until they climbed back up to the bridge, wiping muddy hands on their shorts.

When the girls got to the top of the bank, there was a truck pulled off to the side of the road. Josie thought it was white but behind the glare of the setting sun, it could have been any light-colored truck.

“Who is it?” Becky whispered.

“I don’t know, but I think I saw that same truck earlier today.” Josie looked up and down the gravel road. It was empty. Through the grimy windows, she could see the shadow of a figure wearing a dark-colored jacket and a hat pulled down so low that it shielded his forehead and eyes. It was much too hot to be dressed that way.

For the first time, a ripple of fear coursed through her. “Let’s go,” Josie said, pulling on Becky’s arm.

“Who is it?” Becky asked again. “Is it that creepy Cutter?”

“I don’t think so, but I couldn’t really tell,” she said. “Come on, it’s starting to get dark.”

Behind them, the truck engine suddenly roared to life, and the girls screamed, grabbed hands, and started running, casting glances over their shoulders as their feet kicked up dust, leaving a gray cloud in their wake.

When Josie and Becky came running down the lane, Lynne was bringing in the laundry from the clothesline. Seeing the look of fear on their faces, she dropped the basket onto the grass and hurried toward them. “What is it?” she asked with concern. “What happened?”

“A man. In a truck,” Josie said, trying to catch her breath. “Down the gravel road.”

“Was he bothering you?” Lynne asked, taking in the girls’ bright red, sweaty faces. “Are you okay?”

The girls nodded. “He was just sitting there, staring,” Becky said.

“But he didn’t say anything or do anything?” Lynne asked.

“No,” Josie admitted, “but it was weird.”

“It’s probably nothing. Just one of the neighbors checking their crops,” Lynne assured them. “Now come on inside and get something cold to drink.”

They trooped into the kitchen and Lynne pulled a pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator. “You didn’t happen to see Ethan while you were out there?” Lynne asked as she poured them each a glass. She was trying to be casual, but there was a lilt of worry in her voice.

“Not since earlier,” Josie said, taking a big drink.

Lynne pressed her hands against the counter and craned her neck to look out the window above the sink. “That boy,” she let out a weary breath. “Do you know what’s been going on with him?” she asked, turning back to face Josie. Her eyes were troubled.

Josie shrugged.

“It’s that jerk Cutter probably,” Becky said and Josie kicked her beneath the table.