The Red Hunter(83)

“No one knows about this door we just found, not even my mom.”

Troy shook his head. “Someone knows.”

Raven felt a little chill come up under the heat of her excitement.

“Can I have the tools?” she said.

“It doesn’t work,” said Troy.

“Let me try.”

She lay flat on her belly and got to work. She wanted to open it herself. She wanted to work on it as long as she could. She didn’t want to tell her mom; she didn’t want to call a locksmith or the handyman. Because she knew deep down what would happen. He’d come out and with whatever tools he had, he’d easily open the locks. And guess what he’d find. Just an old, musty tunnel leading from the stupid basement to the stupid barn. And there wouldn’t be anything down there. It would just be empty. Or, if there was a big bag of money, Claudia would just call the police. End of story. All the mystery, the fantasy, the possibility of things would be gone.

Like Andrew Cutter. Just another loser.

Sneaking out to meet him, scamming her way into the club, flirting her way backstage, she’d been tingling, alive to the electricity of possibility. Who was this cool-seeming guy? What if he was her half brother? Would there be some deep connection, the kind of thing she’d always hoped for from a family member? He was cool, handsome, talented. If he came from Melvin Cutter, and so did Raven, maybe she could still be okay, still Raven, a bright future anyway, no matter the horror of her origin. She wasn’t just a mistake, the unwanted result of an act of violence.

But then there he was, the real Andrew Cutter, not the imagined guy, subject to all the laws of reality, of cause and effect. He may have been talented, but he was also angry, bitter, and not nice. He had circles under his eyes, and his breath smelled a little. He looked, under all of that, when she stared right in his eyes, sad, broken, confused—just like Raven felt sometimes. And all that sizzling, tingling energy of possibility grew dark and turned to a confetti of ash.

She eased the clip and the wrench in, knowing she wasn’t going to open the lock but enjoying the energy of thinking that she might.

Troy leaned over her for a few minutes, then drifted away. Then he lifted his ear to the air, got to his feet, and walked over to the grimy window.

“Who’s that?” he said.

“Who?” she said.

“That guy.”

Raven reluctantly got up from the lock and went to stand beside him. She saw the hot blond guy from the other day, the handyman. What was he doing here?

“That’s the guy who’s helping my mom,” she said.

They watched him a minute. He rocked back and forth on his feet, looked around.

“You don’t think your mom posted that blog, do you?” asked Troy.

“No,” said Raven. Although you never could tell what Mom was going to do. She was unpredictable in some ways, did what she wanted. She was flighty. Raven could see her agreeing not to post, then forgetting she wasn’t supposed to and pressing the publish button.

“Then what does he want?”

“I don’t know,” said Raven.

They watched as he waited on the porch. Then the door opened, and he disappeared inside.





thirty-two


There was something different about Josh. What was it? Whatever it was, Claudia didn’t like it. She didn’t open the screen door right away, blocked the entrance with her body.

“I tried to call,” he said. “Sorry to bother you.”

“What’s up?” she asked.

She felt that tension of which her self-defense teacher taught her to be mindful. That feeling of discomfort, even if you don’t know what it means, it means something, he warned. It means stay on guard. Women don’t honor their feelings, talk themselves out of it. But he seems so nice.

Josh was still doing that boyish rocking thing. But he wasn’t looking around, he didn’t have that sweet, slightly nervous laugh. He didn’t seem shy anymore. Today, he looked right at her, wearing a handsome smile. He seemed older.

“I think,” he said, “when I was down in your basement, I might have dropped my best level. I had it in my pocket. Maybe it slipped out when I was moving those boxes.”

“Oh,” said Claudia. “Really?”

Had he moved boxes when he was down there? They weren’t down there for long, and she’d been with him.

“I need it for another job that I promised to finish this evening,” he said. “Do you mind if I just run down and check?”

“Well,” she said. She didn’t want him to come into her house. Why was it so hard for her to say no? “This is not really the best time.”

That wall beneath the stairs was all torn up now. How was she going to explain that?

Still, she stepped back and moved to unlatch the screen door. Why was she saying no with her words and yes with her body? She was a pleaser, that was why. She couldn’t stand not to be nice. According to her trainer, this inability to protect your boundaries was the number one reason most women were vulnerable to predators. Too nice.

His smile widened and he tilted his head a little, then pushed inside. “It won’t take a minute, I promise. I wouldn’t bother you if it wasn’t important.”

She had a choice here. She could get firm, get loud. No, she could say. Please go. And I won’t be needing you on Monday. But that was harsh, wasn’t it? What if he really just needed his level? He’d come and go. She was just jumpy, edgy from everything that had happened. Wasn’t that it?