Not One of Us(61)

Frantic, my eyes scanned beneath the tree house, fearing Zach might have fallen and lay unconscious on the ground. I imagined his body crumpled and still from the pain and shock of broken bones.

But Zach wasn’t there. Again, the strange mixture of relief and panic rushed through me—until I imagined new horrors of dangerous possibilities.

Let dead dogs lie.

What if . . . what if Zach hadn’t wandered off on his own? Had the person who threatened me taken my brother? And if they had . . . what would they do to him?

I felt the blood drain from my face, and I stumbled over to the base of a broad oak tree and leaned my back against it. Prickly bark dug through the thin material of my T-shirt, and the pain grounded my thoughts. I took several deep breaths, lifting my face to the sky. Sunlight warmed my cheeks. I couldn’t give in to the dark despair that my brother might be held somewhere against his will, frightened and confused. Not yet. Not until I’d searched everywhere first.

“Call your friend.”

I jumped at Mimi’s voice and opened my eyes. She stood in front of me, hair disheveled and one thin arm extended, holding my cell phone. “You know. That cop woman. The day program said Zach left at his usual time with his usual driver.”

I took the phone and with trembling fingers located Tegan in my contacts and pressed call. She answered immediately.

“It’s Zach. My brother. He’s missing.” I hoped she could understand my words between my gasps for air. No matter how much I breathed, I couldn’t seem to suck in enough oxygen.

“How long has he been missing?” Tegan’s voice was crisp, calm, matter of fact. It temporarily braced me.

“At least thirty minutes. We’ve looked everywhere. I think he came home from his day program because I was in my room and heard a car in the driveway, and then our door opened and closed. But when I checked later, Mimi was asleep in the den, and now we can’t find him.”

“Have you called his day program yet?”

“Yes. They said they dropped him off as usual.”

“I’ll organize a search immediately. In the meantime, check to see if any of his belongings are missing. Is there anything special he likes to keep with him? Are any of his clothes missing?”

That hadn’t occurred to me. “I’ll go look and call you right back,” I promised.

“Has he ever wandered off before?” Tegan asked.

“Never. Do you think . . .” I couldn’t speak the terrible words.

“We don’t know that he’s been taken. Hang in there and call me back.”

I nodded, even though she certainly couldn’t see me, and hung up.

“What did she say?” Mimi asked.

“Tegan’s organizing a search. While we’re waiting, she told me to see if any of Zach’s stuff is missing.”

Mimi nodded, and we hurried off. “If there was one thing Zach would take, it’s his bucket of LEGOs,” she said.

At the house, we rushed inside to his bedroom. The nightstand where he kept the toy bucket was completely bare. What little optimism I’d had drained out of me. Just how long had my brother been missing? Was he even still in the bayou? The county? The state?

“It’s gone,” Mimi whispered, so soft I could barely hear her. “What does that mean? That Zach took them and wandered off on his own?”

My skin crawled with fear. It didn’t make sense.

Let dead dogs lie.

The refrain beat a steady drum of fear into my heart. Zach—so innocent and so vulnerable. He had no conception of evil and limited communication skills.

I sank onto his bed and covered my face with my hands. From afar, the wail of sirens blasted in the air.





Chapter 23


I’d set up the room to make Zach as comfortable as possible.

He slouched on the couch, his hands constantly shifting the LEGOs. Grab a scoop of pieces, let them fall back into the bucket. Clickety-clack. Clickety-clack. A mechanical waterfall of plastic bits. Over and over ad nauseum. The constant clatter was getting on my last nerve. I wanted to yank the bucket of toys away from him, but I feared that would result in even worse noise. We were in a remote location, but you never knew when someone might be out walking the backwoods or boating along the bayou creeks.

I’d only done what was necessary to protect myself and my secrets.

Nobody would understand that, however.

Zach stood up, LEGO bucket in hand. “Go home,” he said, a stubborn, determined set to his face.

I raised my voice. You had to be firm with others, apparently something his grandmother and sister didn’t seem to understand. Growing up, my dad never hesitated to use the strap on us kids. Or coddled us in any way. It had been a harsh, hardscrabble kind of existence in the bayou backwoods, but it had made me strong. You had to fight for every scrap of money and power in this world, a lesson I’d learned early as a kid. I’d do whatever was necessary to keep my world from imploding. I’d done it before, and I’d do it again. “Sit down,” I ordered. “And shut up.”

Zach flung the LEGO bucket across the room. It smashed against the wall; hundreds of plastic pieces clattered around us on the rough-hewn floor, loud as an explosion of gunfire. He started to walk around me, and I grabbed his arm.

“You will mind me,” I warned, forcing him back onto the couch. “Now sit down. Or else.”