Shattered (LOST #3)(2)

Sarah shook her head. She didn’t want to be a victim.

“That’s my girl.” He smiled at her. Her daddy was such a handsome man. She’d heard all those ladies say that—the ladies that were always trying to catch her daddy’s attention. And when he smiled, his whole face seemed to light up. “Before I’m done with you, Sarah, you’ll be the very best hunter out there.”

She smiled at him, too. She wanted to be just like her daddy.

If he said she’d be the best hunter . . . then she would be.

Eight years later . . .

SOMETHING SMELLED FUNNY in the house. Sarah stood in the kitchen, her bare toes curling against the tile. It was her birthday—sweet sixteen. They were going to celebrate. Her friends were coming over for a sleepover.

But . . . something smelled funny.

Oh, jeez, it would be so embarrassing if her friends came over and they caught a whiff of that smell. They’d make fun of her! No way was that happening on her birthday. Sarah grabbed for the air freshener. She inhaled. Nearly choked. Horrible. And the smell was coming from . . . the basement. Her dad’s workroom.

Had a pipe burst? Was there mold and water all over the place down there?

Sarah hurried forward. She opened the door, then hesitated. Her dad had told her not to go down there—his work was still out and he was worried she might mess it up.

If a pipe burst, that will mess everything up for him. I need to check.

Sarah walked forward. Her hand curled around the banister that would take her down into the basement. The smell was worse. So strong and thick. She hurried down those steps, spraying as she went.

When she reached the last stair, the smell was so intense that Sarah almost gagged. It smelled as if something had died down there. Oh, no. Don’t let me find a dead rat. Don’t.

She heard the floor creaking above her. Then she heard the faint sound of her father humming.

Oh, good, he was home. He’d gone out to pick up her cake, and he had said that he’d make it home before she did, but Sarah had beaten him. Just by minutes, it seemed. Now he could come down there and move whatever thing was stinking up their house.

And my friends will never know.

“Sarah?” It was her dad’s voice. “Sarah, you’ve got to see the surprise I’ve got for you.”

Her dad and his surprises. She glanced back up the staircase. “I’m down here, Dad!”

Silence.

She turned to stare at the darkened recesses of the basement. Her eyes narrowed as she stepped forward. There was some kind of bag down there. Big and thick. Burlap.

“Sarah, you’re not supposed to be down here.”

She jumped because her dad was right behind her. He’d moved silently down those stairs, and she hadn’t even heard him. Sarah whirled around even as her heart raced in her chest. “Dad! You scared me.”

He didn’t smile at her. His dark eyes glinted. “I’ve told you before . . . you don’t need to be afraid. It’s the rest of the world—”

“—that has to be afraid.” She shook her head. Right. He said that line to her all the time. She knew he wanted her to think she was some kind of superstar, but she wasn’t. She was just a normal girl. One who’d started to get picked on at school. Not that she’d told her dad. He would just get mad if he knew that Ryan Klein had made fun of her when she’d fallen at PE the other day. Now everyone was calling her Shaky Sarah. If they didn’t get the smell out of the house soon, that nickname would change to Smelly Sarah in about twenty minutes when her friends arrived.

She pointed behind her. “Dad, I think a pipe broke and got your bag wet. That smell is terrible!”

He moved forward. His steps were still silent. He could do that, move so quietly. He’d been showing her how lately, too. He’d been teaching her to shoot, to fight. To hunt.

“That’s one of your presents. Though I was going to show it to you later. After your friends left.”

Her present was in that stinky bag?

Sarah put down her air freshener and she crept forward.

Her dad turned on another light, and the bulb shone down on that bag. The bag wasn’t just wet. Those stains on it were so dark in color.

“I heard about the trouble you had at school.” His lips thinned. “Your counselor called me . . . told me all about that boy . . .”

Her cheeks burned. “It’s nothing, Dad. I can handle him.”

“He has a history of picking on other kids. Bullying them. He’s older, so he should know better.”

He was older. Eighteen. A senior while she was just a sophomore.

“I can handle him,” she said again.

Her dad smiled. “You don’t have to.”

Then he opened the bag for her.

Sarah stared into that bag and she heard screaming. Screaming that she remembered from so long ago . . . wild, desperate screaming—

Help me. Help me. Help me!

—but this time, that screaming was coming from her. Sarah was screaming and crying and she was on the floor. Nausea rolled through her stomach and she vomited right there.

Her dad’s arms wrapped around her.

“It’s all right, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Happy birthday.”





Chapter 1