Count All Her Bones Page 7

  But first she had to deal with Phantom. She didn’t need him following her, giving her away. It sounded like he had wolfed down most of his food. She unlocked the back door and pushed him outside into the light rain, hoping he wouldn’t whine. Duke’s doghouse wasn’t big enough for two.

  In the kitchen cupboard, she found the bags of popcorn and took one to the microwave. Each button had a series of Braille dots Danielle had made with a labeler. Popcorn took ninety seconds. Cheyenne put in the bag, closed the door, and set it for nine minutes.

  Then she slipped inside the hall closet across from Ronald’s room and waited. She kept the door open a crack, pressing her left eye against it. By her watch, it took five minutes for the smoke alarm to go off. Which was at least two minutes after her nose had started picking up the stench.

  A few seconds after the alarm started to blare, she heard Ronald’s door fly open and saw a shadow cross her vision. His footsteps pounded toward the front door. A second later, she darted across the hall and into his room, closing the door behind her. Her outstretched hands were already running across the bureau while one foot nudged the floor for his suitcase.

  On the other side of the house, Nick and Danielle were shouting her name. Outside, Phantom and Duke had started to bark.

  Ronald had draped his pants over the back of a chair, and the second Cheyenne lifted them, she felt the weight of the fob. She fumbled it out. It was heavy and rectangular, with rounded edges. She slipped it into her pocket and darted back into the hall. As soon as she opened the door, acrid smoke stung her eyes and nose.

  Her dad yelled for her again. He sounded close. She hoped he hadn’t seen her leave Ronald’s room. A second later, Danielle grabbed her arm.

  “Oh my God, Cheyenne, I was so worried.”

  “We need to get out of the house right now,” her dad said. “There’s a fire.”

  Cheyenne didn’t have to fake the anxiety in her voice. “I must have pressed the wrong button on the microwave before I went to the bathroom. Sorry, sorry, this is all my fault.”

  Behind Danielle, Jaydra said, “The popcorn caught on fire, but it was contained within the microwave. We’ll need to open all the windows and doors to clear the smoke, and turn on the kitchen exhaust fan, but everything’s fine. Except for the microwave. That’s ruined.”

  “I don’t care about the microwave.” Danielle’s voice had an edge of hysteria. “I was only worried about Cheyenne.” She pulled her into a hug. Cheyenne moved to one side so her stepmom didn’t notice the lump of the fob in her right-hand pocket. She bumped into Danielle’s wet cheek and then the rounded bulge of her belly. The first made her feel guilty. The second made her feel things she couldn’t name.

  In the kitchen, the alarm finally stopped. Outside she heard her dad trying to calm the dogs while he talked to Ronald.

  “What’s weird is that when I came out, I found Phantom in the yard,” Jaydra said. Was there suspicion in her voice?

  “I let him out before I put the popcorn in. And then I went to the bathroom.” Cheyenne realized they might be wondering why she was still dressed. “I was just so excited about today that I couldn’t sleep.”

  “And you rushed out of the bathroom when you heard the smoke alarm?” Jaydra asked.

  Cheyenne had to swallow before she answered. If they noticed, she hoped they just chalked it up to the smoke in the air. “Yeah. I’m really, really sorry.”

  “That’s not why I’m asking. I just want to make sure you know what to do in a fire. If you think there’s a fire or you hear an alarm, never open the door until you know it’s safe. If you feel heat or smoke coming through the cracks, don’t open it. Same goes if the door is hot or the knob is. That’s when you might have to go out a window. And if there’s smoke, get low and crawl on your hands and knees.”

  Cheyenne nodded like a robot.

  The adults busied themselves opening windows, letting in clean rain-scented air. Her dad carried the ruined microwave outside, while Cheyenne toweled off Phantom’s fur. Eventually everyone went back to bed.

  * * *

  She waited a full hour before she risked leaving, messaging Griffin that she was almost on her way. He asked her to hurry, which made her palms sweat even more. She pushed her folded cane into the pocket of her raincoat. Phantom tried to follow her out, but she made him stay inside her room. She was already nervous enough about driving the car, and she didn’t want to have to divide her attention. Luckily, he didn’t protest. He was probably too tired from all the excitement of the day. With the fob heavy in her hand, she ghosted down the hallway.

  When she opened the back door, a bark greeted her. Uh-oh. She had forgotten about Duke. He was still agitated from the commotion.

  She urgently whispered, “Leave it!,” the all-purpose instruction to tell him to stop doing whatever he was doing, but Duke just barked again. When she opened the car door, he crowded in past her.

  She could try to wrestle him out, but Cheyenne’s skin was itching as if Jaydra already had eyes on her. So instead she just climbed in, shoving Duke over to the passenger seat. The car fob went into a cup holder. She put her foot on the brake and pressed the button. And then she told the car where to go.

  CHAPTER 17

  IMPOSSIBLE

  CHEYENNE

  The car hummed quietly. Sitting behind the wheel, Cheyenne pictured how she was speeding through the darkness with Duke by her side. At first they had been on the smooth freeway, where she had occasionally caught flashes of the lights of passing cars. Now the road was rougher. All she could see out of the corner of her left eye was blackness. Even though Ronald had said the car had over ten thousand miles on it, it still had that new-car smell, mingled now with the scents of damp dog.

  Lightly, Cheyenne rested her hands on the steering wheel, felt it spin under her sweaty palms.

  Then she pulled them away. What if something she did prompted the car to switch to manual mode? What if she couldn’t get it going again? It had been one thing when Ronald was sitting next to her, but now she would have to figure everything out on her own. It was oddly comforting having Duke beside her. She just hoped that he would react well to Griffin. Even though it had been Griffin’s dad, not Griffin, who beat him, the association wouldn’t help, and he didn’t like men in general.

  The address Griffin had given her was south of the Portland city limits, on a road she had never heard of. Silently, she urged the car to go faster. She wondered if that was even possible. The engineers probably hadn’t programmed it to speed.

  Finally, after a series of turns, the car began to slow. “Destination reached,” the computerized voice said. “Auto parking.” It nosed to what must have been the side of the road.

  Taking a deep breath, Cheyenne opened the car door. She got out, Duke crowding her heels. Her legs were shaking. Gravel crunched under her feet. Otherwise it was quiet. She listened for Griffin’s voice but heard nothing.

  “Griffin? Griffin?” Her voice sounded like it was falling into a void.

  No answer.

  As Duke pressed close against her legs, she swiveled her head, but it was too dark for her slice of vision to show anything. She strained to hear a voice or footsteps or anything besides herself and Duke. A faint breeze caressed her cheek, rustling whatever grew in the fields around her. The breeze created the field for her. She sniffed, but could smell nothing but the fresh scent of recently fallen rain and the smoke that still clung to her skin. In the distance, the low hum of a car faded even as she tuned in to it.

  Otherwise, it was absolutely still.

  “Griffin?” she called again.

  A chill ran over her skin, and she shivered. Was she too late? Had Griffin made good on his hints? The thought froze her heart.

  Or had he gotten tired of waiting for her and gone someplace else? She thought about pulling out her cane and setting off to look for him. But where would she go? She had no mental map of this place.

  “Griffin?” she called again, then
held her breath.

  Silence. It seemed like she was alone, except for Duke, who let out a low whine.

  But was she really alone? Apart from the breeze, did she hear a soft sound? At first she thought it came from her left, but then she sensed it on the right.

  Were her senses playing tricks on her, or was someone nearby? With a prickle, the hair rose on the back of her neck.

  “I can hear you,” she said definitely, although she still wasn’t certain. “Who’s there? Is that you, Griffin?”

  Beside her, Duke’s whine shifted to a whimper. Cheyenne put her hand over his snout. “Leave it!” she whispered, and was shocked when he nipped. Maybe he sensed Griffin and was afraid of him. Duke had only known Griffin from before, when Roy was beating both of them. When they were under the sway of a bad man.

  A voice came from ahead of her, on her left. “TJ’s right. You are a pretty little thing.”

  Cheyenne let out a shriek. The man sounded like Roy. But that was impossible. Roy was in jail. Her thoughts were a crazy scramble as she whirled around, pulled open the car door, and tried to dive inside.

  But Duke was right beside her with the same panicked plan. His claws dug into her leg as he frantically pushed ahead of her. She ducked her head inside the door. Duke’s tail slapped her face when he turned around, barking so loudly it hurt her ears. She grabbed the steering wheel and dragged her torso inside, then pulled both her legs in.

  But before Cheyenne could close the door, a hand clamped on her left wrist and began to pull her out. Duke growled and snapped, his jaws inches from her face, his nails digging painfully into her thighs.

  She twisted her wrist toward her attacker’s thumb—the weakest part of the grip. Bracing her feet on the floor, she let go of the steering wheel and grabbed the door handle with her right hand. She managed to yank her left hand free at the same time as she tried to pull the door closed. But instead of hearing the door latch into place, she felt the window part of the door close on the man’s hand.

  He screamed a swear word in her ear and then fell back into the gravel as she slammed the door closed. With her left hand, she skimmed the door, trying to find the button or switch to lock it. At the same time, she reached over Duke with her right hand and pushed the start button. Nothing.

  Her heart felt like it would beat out of her chest. Then she remembered. The brake! Her foot had to be on the brake before the car would start. She pressed it to the floor and pushed the start button again, already whimpering with relief.

  Nothing happened.

  The car door was wrenched open. Duke’s growls escalated to a frenzy. She heard his jaws snap together, but they only closed on air.

  A woman’s voice spoke right in front of her. It was the car, talking to her.

  “Cheyenne, this is Ronald.”

  “Help me!” she screamed. Duke was keeping the man at bay, but how long would that last?

  The voice continued under hers without a pause. “We have disabled the vehicle and are coming to get you.”

  She ran her fingers over the dash, hoping to find a button that would allow her to transmit back. She found several. Which one? She tried mashing them all.

  Could they see her? Could they hear her?

  “Help me!” she screamed again. “Someone’s trying to take me.”

  Ronald’s words, as spoken by the car, continued at the same unhurried pace, uncolored by any emotion other than the exasperated patience of a man being paid by her father. “Please stay with the vehicle.”

  Duke launched himself out of the car so hard that one of his nails ripped open Cheyenne’s jeans. She heard a man’s high-pitched scream.

  Followed by a gunshot and then a horrible yipping howl.

  CHAPTER 18

  THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS

  GRIFFIN

  Still dressed in the suit Aunt Debby had bought him, Griffin sat on the dirt floor of an abandoned barn surrounded by moldering hay bales. Behind his back, his wrists were handcuffed around a wooden post. Above him, the rotting roof granted him glimpses of a heavy gray sky that matched his mood.

  Had his mom’s funeral really only been a few hours ago? This whole day had been a nightmare that just got darker by the minute. After the memorial had ended, Griffin had been balancing on his toes on the curb, idly bouncing up and down, when a white box van pulled up next to him. The passenger door swung open.

  In the driver’s seat was—“Uncle Dwayne?”

  “Get in, kid.” Dwayne gestured with his big shaved head. “Now.”

  “But—” Griffin turned to look at Debby. She had her back to him. Judging by how she was moving her hands, she was still talking.

  “I don’t have time for this,” Dwayne ordered. “Get in.”

  Only then did Griffin register the fact that Dwayne was pointing a gun at him, almost casually, holding it flat on his thigh. Dwayne and Roy and the other guys had liked to shoot out in the back pasture, the same place Roy had buried the remnants of stolen cars that he couldn’t sell. The same place he had buried Griffin’s mom after he found her dead.

  As he stared at the round empty eye of the gun, Griffin knew that if Dwayne could shoot an empty beer can at twenty yards, he could surely shoot Griffin at one.

  Still, he shook his head.

  “If you’re gonna be that way, I’m going to have to give TJ the signal to take out your aunt.”

  Griffin followed Dwayne’s gaze. Standing a few feet away from Debby was TJ Meadors. Heavier, his hair shorn to his scalp, his stupid rat tail gone. But after all the years TJ had worked for his dad, Griffin would have known him anywhere. In the back pasture, TJ’s specialty had been trick shooting: blindfolded, behind his back, or with a gun in each hand like a movie bad guy.

  When he saw Griffin looking at him, TJ flashed a grin that lasted just long enough to freeze Griffin’s blood. And then he took a step closer to Aunt Debby.

  Griffin got in. Even before he was all the way in his seat, Dwayne was accelerating, the van swaying around a corner hard enough that it closed the door before Griffin could. After some twists and turns, Dwayne stopped in an isolated part of the cemetery that didn’t yet hold any graves and ordered Griffin out. When he jumped down to the ground, TJ was just making his way down the hill toward them.

  Dwayne kept his gun aimed at Griffin almost casually while TJ patted him down, took his phone, and cuffed his hands behind him. Then they pushed him into the back of the van, which was basically a metal box. With no hands to break his fall, Griffin scraped his forehead pretty bad. He told himself that the wetness he felt on his face was from the blood. Not because of the hopeless position he was in. Not because of the horrifying thing he had seen before the van’s doors closed and left him in darkness.

  When they finally let him out, he was bruised from rolling around. They each got a hand in an armpit, frogmarched him into the weather-beaten barn, and refastened his handcuffs around a rough wooden post.

  Now Dwayne leaned close. His features were bunched together in disgust. “You make me sick! You were going to rat out your own dad!”

  Spit landed on Griffin’s face, and he had to let it sit there. If Roy sometimes reminded Griffin of a strutting rooster, Dwayne, with his small eyes and bulky body, was more like a pig.

  “You don’t get it, do you?” Dwayne spoke through gritted teeth. “The only thing that matters in this world is loyalty. Is blood. Your dad is my half brother. Which makes you my half nephew. You should be glad that we share blood, or you would be dead, too.”

  “So what’s he doing here, then?” Griffin jerked his head toward TJ. “He’s not blood, but if he’s out walking around, you must have got him out.”

  “He has some skills I can use.”

  At Dwayne’s words, TJ straightened up, an odd grin playing across his face. His stay in the mental hospital did not seem to have improved his mental health.

  “Teej, do you think Dwayne really cares about you?” Griffin said, and shook his head. “He’s just
like Dad, only worse. You must be here so he can use you and then lose you.”

  Dwayne’s slap rocked Griffin’s head back into the post so hard that for a second he saw stars.

  “Shut up,” Dwayne said. “You’re the loser here. You were going to get up on that witness stand and do what? Tell the truth? Don’t make me laugh. The truth is that you’re the one who got your dad into this mess. And the only way you can make up for that is by not testifying. Since you didn’t seem to be coming to your senses, I had to step in.”

  Griffin should have shut up, but he couldn’t. “But how’s that going to work? Kidnapping me is not going to make them drop kidnapping charges against my dad.”

  “Who said anything about kidnapping? As far as they know, you got into the van with a friend, said ‘later, gator,’ and took off on your own.”

  “They won’t believe that.” At least Griffin hoped they wouldn’t.

  TJ laughed. “They already do believe it. That ugly aunt of yours was calling your name, and the priest said he saw you getting into a van. She looked really mad.”

  Debby already worried he was a screwup. Yesterday, she had caught him smoking and yelled at him. Now she must be sure that Uncle Jeff was right, that it had been a big mistake taking him in.

  But the other problem with Dwayne’s plan was that the case didn’t hinge on Griffin. Even without him, Bennett should have no problem prosecuting the case. It was Cheyenne who was the key to his father going to prison. But he wasn’t going to remind Dwayne of that fact.

  To his horror, his uncle echoed his thoughts. “And don’t worry, we’ve got plans for your little girlfriend, too.”

  Griffin tried to make his face impassive. He should have realized that this wasn’t just about him. It had never been just about him.

  They were targeting Cheyenne as well. Cheyenne, the girl he still cared about, even though he had thrown away the second chance she had helped him get.

  This was all his fault. Everything was his fault. If he hadn’t stolen her stepmom’s car, Cheyenne wouldn’t have to testify against his dad. If he hadn’t startled his dad, his mom would still be alive.