Unspeakable Things(58)

All the farms in this grid had been constructed the same—identical layout, including the houses, barns, and outbuilding, tree shield surrounding each, fields beyond. Goblin’s house was more exposed than most, but he still had a good copse of trees protecting the west side, catawampus from where the wild strawberries grew. I led Frank in that direction, walking my bike through the ditch. It was swampy since the rain, and once I was in the tall grass, it smelled like peat. I’d have to check myself for ticks later.

“Leave your bike here,” I whispered, setting mine down to demonstrate. On their sides, our bikes would be invisible in this tall grass. I held a fist in the air. “This sign means stop.” I opened the fist and waved my fingers. “This means go.”

Frank made a smart salute. I dropped to my belly with a smile on my face, army crawling along the spongy earth, careful not to rustle the grass too much. The swamp gave way to a stunted forest, and we made a dash for a cluster of oaks. We were within a hundred yards of Goblin’s house. I held up the fist, and Frank stopped immediately. I swallowed my giggle along with the clover dust air. We were really good at this.

I scanned the perimeter. Goblin’s house was a run-down version of my own, Sergeant Bauer’s, and Frank’s. Goblin had recently fried something, and underneath that, I caught a whiff of sourness. He owned a few head of cattle. They were kicking and lowing in the field behind the red barn. He’d converted an old shed to a garage. Its door was open, but because of the angle and the shade, I couldn’t tell if Goblin’s car was parked in it or not. I searched the windows of his house, at least the main floor ones. His basement windows were blacked out. I didn’t know what I expected to spot. I was just happy to have gotten farther onto his property than Sephie had, to feel my heart thudding pleasantly on a warm summer day.

“I don’t think—” was as far as I got in my sentence before the vise grip closed on my neck. Fear popped like a bitter berry between my teeth.

“What are you kids doing on my property?”

Goblin held me and Frank by the neck, pushing our faces into the earth. His accent was coarse, pure backcountry Minnesotan. If he had to string together more than five words, we’d hear the “I seen it” and “can you borrow me some” that my parents said were the signs of ignorance.

“Let us go!” I hollered, except my voice was strangled.

“I’ll let ya go.” He released us so quickly that my head shot up. Frank rolled over and scurried to hide behind me. Goblin’s dog, a growly looking mutt, watched us both, his hackles raised. The right side of his face was swollen.

I stared from Goblin to his dog and back again, feeling more busted than scared. I got to my feet, my legs shaking. “You had no right to grab us.”

“Well now, you had no right to be on my property.” He smiled. His feed cap shaded his eyes, but his mouth was wide and open. He was missing teeth.

“We wanted to pet your dog.” Frank stood and offered his hand to Goblin’s mutt.

Goblin laughed, and it sounded for-real friendly this time. My shoulders inched down from my ears. We had been trespassing. Maybe he wouldn’t tell.

“No one wants to pet Cliffy. He’s an old mutt.”

I pointed at his swollen head. “What happened?”

The laugh sizzled away like water in hot bacon grease. “None of your business.” He squinted. “You’re Donny’s girl.”

I didn’t think that needed answering. “We have to go.”

Goblin looked at Frank. “And you’re the new boy, just up the road, aren’t ya? Your dad a farmer?”

There was something grabby in his words, but his smile was back. He tipped his head so I could see one of his eyes, dark and glittering.

“We really have to be going.” This time, instead of waiting for permission, I grabbed Frank’s hand and backed away.

I worried that Goblin would stop us, but he just watched from under his brim.

“Don’t come back,” he finally grumbled. “My dog don’t like strangers. I can’t be responsible if he catches you next time.”





CHAPTER 36

I biked Frank back to his house. It was the least I could do after the danger I’d put him in. He walked into his house without saying goodbye. My bike ride home was miserable, made more terrible by the drizzle that turned to a downpour by the time I hit the driveway. What a monumentally crappy day. And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I found Dad waiting for me in front of the house.

“Where’ve you been?” His shirt was off. He stood under the awning, but raindrops glistened on his chest hair. Mom was nowhere to be seen.

“I told you. Selling popcorn.”

His eyes narrowed. “Let me see.”

“I don’t actually have popcorn.” I leaned my bike against the house, hugging my elbows when my hands were free. “I take orders now and deliver later.”

“Did you get any orders?” His voice was deadly gentle.

“Yeah.” I yanked my backpack off my shoulders and pulled out the brochure, grateful that I’d sold some. “See?”

He kept his malachite eyes trained on me. “You look scraped up.”

The lie tumbled out. “Goblin’s dog chased me when I was biking, and I wiped out.”