The Middle of Somewhere(86)

“Get out of here!” Dante shouted.

Her hand shaking, Liz swung the beam to the right. Her heart stopped. Payton, framed between two trees, exactly as she’d seen him that night during the storm. His feet were planted wide, his shoulders broad and squared. She shone the light directly at his face. He didn’t squint. He tucked his chin and glowered at her. She gasped.

Dante grunted and released the stone from the slingshot. Payton ducked behind a tree and the stone flew past, narrowly missing him. Liz spied Rodell’s light moving and jerked her own back to him. He was retreating, cutting through the meadow with a limp.

Payton shouted, “If he’s hurt, you two are gonna pay!”

Dante had reloaded and was aiming in the direction of Payton’s voice. She searched for Payton with the light but saw only tree trunks and shadows. Dry leaves crunched underfoot. A twig snapped. Liz held her breath. More rustling, now farther away. She was shaking badly now, from cold and fear, but kept scanning with the beam.

Beside her, Dante lowered the slingshot and exhaled. “Dios mio.”

Her breath came in shallow gasps. She shone the light all around, again and again.

Dante said, “Let’s go inside.”

Liz wasn’t convinced the Roots had gone—how could they know?—but crawled into the tent anyway. She tried to zip her bag closed but her numb fingers couldn’t grip the tab. Then she realized she still had to pee. She clambered over Dante with the flashlight, apologizing, and crept a few yards away, in the opposite direction of the Roots. As she returned to the tent she swept the beam across the trees and meadow, but saw nothing unusual.

Her teeth were chattering as she blew into her hands. She managed to open the zipper and slipped into her bag again. Her voice wavered as she spoke. “That was exactly what Payton looked like the night he scared the crap out of me at Shadow Creek.”

“You were right about them all along. I don’t know why I didn’t see it.”

“They didn’t want you to. Until now, they’ve saved their best for me.”

“But I should have believed you. Thank God we put up the cord.”

“Yeah, it actually worked.” Liz shuddered, thinking about what the brothers had intended to do, and anticipating they might be back. “We should take turns keeping watch for them.”

“Okay. I’ll go first. Just let me warm up.” He paused. “Do you think they really did kill Brensen?”

“I don’t know. It’s all fun and games with them. Hard to tell where they’d draw the line.”

“If they wanted him dead, they could’ve shot him.”

“Assuming they really have a gun. I’m not sure what I saw.”

“And this way it’s less clear how he died.”

A wave of fear pulsed through her at the cold-blooded premeditation this suggested. She wished Dante would go out and stand watch. She tightened the drawstring on the hood of the sleeping bag and rubbed her feet together to warm them. “Paul and Linda would’ve told the police about Brensen yesterday, or the night before. Do you think they’ve already come to get him?”

“Probably. Are you thinking about an autopsy?”

“Yes. But then again, as Paul said, a fall and a push might look pretty much the same.”

“So we can’t count on anyone coming after the Roots.”

“I don’t think we can count on anything.” Her words hung in the air.

They lay still, striving not to disrupt the pockets of warmth their body heat had created. After a few minutes, Dante sighed and crawled out of the tent. A light crossed the ceiling, then swung away. She listened as Dante’s footsteps receded toward the meadow. She willed him not to go far. The beam lit the tent again as he approached. He made several small circuits within the trip lines before returning inside. She smelled the cold on him as he wriggled into his bag.

“The wind’s increased.” His voice quaked. “It’s unbelievably cold.”

“I’ll go in a sec.” She pulled her knees into the fetal position, gathering heat and resolve. She didn’t want to leave the tent, but neither did she want to be ambushed. She wanted peace, and sleep. She closed her eyes, but her brain was in overdrive, rifling through images of the Roots: Payton looming over her at the creek, Rodell acting out the dare at the pass during the storm, the two of them folding their tarp like housewives. Even that quotidian act disturbed her in retrospect. She pictured them lurking in the woods beyond the tent and sat up. “I’d better go.”