Elusion(77)

Josh’s arm slips away and I feel a vibration on the bench underneath my leg. He checks his pants pocket, so it must be his tab.

“Poor baby,” Avery says. “Are you worried about your father’s reputation? At least he’s not alive to see it go up in flames. Oops. Bad choice of words, huh?”


Before I lunge at her, Josh leaps up, waving his tab around like a madman.

“Oh, shit! It’s Nora!” he says. “She just sent me a text!”

Avery gasps. “What? Let me see.”

Josh hands her his tab and I stand up, craning my neck so I can get a look.

Hate Our New Land, the message says.

“Huh? What does that mean?” Avery asks, scrunching up her nose.

Josh and I share a wary glance. This time we’re the ones with a secret. I have to admit, I’d much rather be on this end of it.

“Doesn’t matter,” he replies. “We just need to track it.”

I watch as Josh drags his finger across the screen, opening his GPS. It takes only seconds for the message-sender location to be determined, but Avery and Josh look absolutely frantic, like it’s taking years.

And then we have it.

49 Flat Rock Rd. QS

“Oh my God,” says Avery.

“She’s right outside the trailer,” Josh breathes.

“Let’s go, then!” Avery says, running in the direction of her car. But when she realizes no one is following her, she turns back around. “What the hell, Josh? Are you coming or not?”

Josh stares at me, the excitement unfurling like pink blossoms on his cheeks. “I have to go.”

“You sure you don’t have room for one more?” I manage to eke out a smile.

He’s found Nora. I need to be happy for him.

“Regan, you don’t have to do this. I understand. Things are . . . different now.”

“Maybe. But I owe you,” I say. “If my father really is responsible for all this, then I want to do everything I can to make it right. Part of that is helping you bring Nora back home.”

Avery storms over to us when she sees Josh pulling me in close for a hug. I can tell that she’s about to blow up again—there’s a vein near her right temple that pulsates when she’s reached maximum hostility levels—but Josh thankfully issues a preemptive strike.

“I’m not going anywhere without Regan,” he says.


Forty-Five Flat Rock Road is nothing more than a dented mailbox.

The house behind it is simply a pile of rubble. Forty-Seven fared a little better; only half the house is missing, leaving part of its interior visible. Thanks to the rising moon and the relatively clear yet code-yellow night, Josh, Avery, and I can make out some of the upstairs rooms, but the downstairs is shrouded in darkness. Then I see it. Number Forty-Nine: a large blue house.

Although it still seems to have a solid foundation, four of the front windows are shattered and covered with swaths of plastic. There is a gigantic hole in the roof, covered by a black tarp, and from the looks of the sawed-off trees near the side of the house, I figure a heavy branch came crashing down on top of it.

We hurry toward the steps, their iron railings bent into odd spiral formations, folding out in opposite directions. I hear a crackle of thunder echoing in the distance, which is followed by the sound of wet drizzle tapping on our shoulders. As Avery starts frantically ringing the bell and banging on the door, I pull out my umbrella from my bag, open it up, and try to peer in the right-side window, but the plastic is a little too thick and smudged to see through.

“Hello?” I say, turning up the volume on my O2 so my voice can travel over a larger distance.

“Is the lock still working?” Josh asks, moving Avery aside so he can inspect the lockpad.

“Give me your passcard so I can check,” Avery barks, holding her hand out at me.

I dig inside my bag, latching on to the card with my fingertips, and give it to her. Once Avery waves the card, a blinking red light appears on the lockpad.

“Yeah, it’s functioning.” She tosses the passcard to me, and I catch it with my free hand.

Josh nods his head to the left side of the house. “Maybe we could get in through a broken window or something.”

“Good idea,” I say.

He leads us down the steps and along a narrow, muddy path that winds around the house.

“Okay, here’s one,” Josh says, and then motions to me. “Can I use your umbrella?”

I hand it over to him and once he closes it, he uses the umbrella to knock away two pieces of jagged glass that are still attached to the window frame, which is about five feet off the ground. Then he hands it back to me and bends over, cupping his hands and weaving his fingers together. “I’ll boost you up.”

I nod, tossing my umbrella into the bag, and then my bag through the window. I listen to it land and I don’t hear any crunching or crashing sounds, so thankfully it doesn’t seem like there’s anything dangerous on the other side of the wall. I put my foot into the stirrup-like hold Josh has made with his hands and grab on to the windowsill, lifting myself a little bit. Then he hoists me up, very quickly, like I don’t weigh more than a puppy. When I’m level with the window, I swing my free leg over, and then the other. Soon I’m inside the house, my fingers coiled tightly around the strap of my bag, ready to use it to beat off an assailant.