She Can Hide (She Can #4)(78)

In the half-frozen slush, a line of footprints led away from the shed.




Water dripped from Derek’s nose. He shook ice crystals from his hat and peered through Mr. Sheridan’s shed window. Fifty feet away, Abby and Ethan were checking out her shed, the place he’d been hiding all day.

That was close.

Ethan went into the building for a minute. Abby looked sad as she closed the door. Watching her, Derek’s chest hurt. If she’d been alone, he wouldn’t have run. But Ethan would send him back to the foster home. Cold and wet was way better than…

Nope. Not going there again. Though he probably wouldn’t. This was his second bolt-and-run. He’d probably end up in juvenile detention if he got caught this time—one more reason for him not to get caught.

Derek coughed. Even with the dry coat and boots he’d stolen from the owner of the pickup that had assisted in his escape, he had never been this cold in his life. He couldn’t feel his feet or his hands. Really, he couldn’t feel 90 percent of his body. He felt bad about taking stuff that wasn’t his. He’d try to return it someday. But for once, luck had been with him last night. The boots were a little big, but better than his waterlogged sneakers. When he’d sneaked out the side door before dawn, to his surprise, he’d found himself not far from home.

Kenneth’s words wouldn’t get out of Derek’s head.

I doubt Torres is leaving with the job unfinished. He’s hanging around here somewhere. I bet you know your neighborhood better than anybody. Are there any good places to hide?

Where would Joe go? If Kenneth was right, Joe would stay close to places he was likely to find Abby.

Derek had headed home. Abby’s shed was a better hiding place in the summer. But where could he go? It was too cold to walk far, and the ice storm nixed any ideas of hiding in the woods. And he couldn’t leave, not with his mom missing. For all her faults, she wouldn’t leave without him. Joe must have made her. But where were they?

Ethan and Abby turned back to her house. Derek fought the urge to yell out to her. He pressed a hand to his empty belly. He was so hungry, his stomach felt like it was eating itself.

The corners of his eyes burned with tears. He didn’t want to spend the night in Mr. Sheridan’s shed. Not that his neighbor would find Derek. As nosy as Mr. Sheridan was, he couldn’t see Derek way back here, not through the precipitation. And at seventy-six, Mr. Sheridan wasn’t coming outside in an ice storm. Derek looked at the back of his neighbor’s house.

Weird.

All the blinds were drawn. Mr. Sheridan liked to watch the neighborhood activity. He loved catching kids doing something, anything that might get them into trouble.

Derek’s empty belly roiled. A piece of sleet melted, ran into his collar, and rolled down his spine.

He pushed the shed door open and went out into Mr. Sheridan’s yard. The maple tree’s limbs overhead were coated in ice, and the freezing rain had built up a shiny layer on the brick walkway too. Something was definitely wrong. Mr. Sheridan should have put rock salt on his stoop. He always tossed it by the cupful from the back door.

Derek crept to the window, but he couldn’t see anything. He tiptoed to the half-glass back door and put his eye to the crack between the blind and the doorframe. He could see a thin slice of Mr. Sheridan’s kitchen.

What was that? Derek squinted. Oh no. Sticking through the doorway, Derek could see legs clad in muddy brown polyester pants. Mr. Sheridan was lying on the floor. A shadow crossed the room, the figure moving way too fast to be old Mr. Sheridan. Derek turned, ducked, and pressed his back to the door. He glanced over at the back of Abby’s house. Were she and Ethan still there? Calling Abby meant Ethan would send him back to foster care, but Derek didn’t care. Mr. Sheridan was hurt inside, and the sick feeling in Derek’s gut told him maybe Joe was in there too. Was Derek’s mom?

He pulled Abby’s phone from his pocket and turned it on. His thumbs shot out a quick text. He zipped the cell back into his pocket. Should he go back to the shed or try to get another peek inside?

The door opened, and a hand yanked Derek inside.

“I’ve been looking for you.” The veins in Joe’s neck popped, and his eyes were black and buggy. He grabbed Derek by the front of his jacket and tossed him into the wall.

Derek’s head and shoulders bounced off the sheetrock. Pain rolled through his head. He slid to the floor and fell to his side. Putting his hands under him, his gloves slipped in something wet. He turned his palms over. Red liquid coated the gray nylon. Blood. The edges of Derek’s vision blurred. His heart rattled in his chest as he pushed his upper body off of the floor and looked right into Mr. Sheridan’s dead eyes.

He scrambled to his feet. Joe got a hold of the back of Derek’s jacket and hauled him across the kitchen. Derek skidded in the smeared blood and tripped over Mr. Sheridan’s arm. His hollow stomach heaved. Acid bubbled into his mouth.

There was so much blood.…

Joe dragged him into the living room.

Derek’s heart skipped. His mom was lying on the floor, arms out-flung as if someone had tossed her there. Her eyes were closed, her body limp. Her jeans and sweater bagged on her thin frame. Was she unconscious? Please don’t be dead. He started toward her.

“Stand still.” Joe yanked him backward.

Trembling, Derek wrapped his arms around his chest. On the outside, he was standing still and silent. On the inside, he was running and screaming.