Dinner passed without much happening. We worked, we ate, and we were exhausted. Murphy and I staggered up to bed and slumped down in our bunks.

“This whole thing is weird,” said Murphy.

“What do you mean?” I said.

“I mean Grandma. I mean this sheriff guy. Like, where is Horace already? Did he just forget about us? I figured he would have been here by now, trying to get us back for knocking him out and stealing his car.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to get caught,” I said. “Maybe he’s just happy with whatever money he’s already gotten from the trust.”

“Do you seriously think that?”

“No,” I said. “But do you have any better ideas? Maybe Sheriff Bearden is right. Maybe he hightailed it after we escaped.”

Murphy snorted.

“Fat chance of that. And I’ll tell you another thing, I don’t trust that fucking sheriff. Not one bit.”

“What is your problem, Murphy?” I said.

“What? I don’t have any problem.”

“Yes, you do. I mean, it doesn’t seem like you like this place much.”

“Forgive me for missing our mom and our old life and all our friends,” she said. “You know, I haven’t even so much as texted another human being since we left. I bet all my friends think I’m dead.”

“At least you have friends to miss you,” I said. “I don’t have anybody.”

Murphy softened a little at that.

“You have me,” she said. “Always. And I’m sorry I’m being a dick right now. It’s just that something feels off about this place. The Farm, I mean. I wish we had decent cell phone reception. I’d google the shit out of it.”

“I think it’s amazing here,” I said. “It’s like, holy or something, you know? There’s something special about it.”

Murphy climbed out of bed, and a few second later I saw the top of her head peeking over the rail of my bunk, her eyes narrowed at me all suspicious-like.

“Why do I feel like you’re holding out on me?” she said.

I started to deny it, to lie my ass off and tell my sister that I didn’t know any more than she did, but then I saw something in the window.

It was a face, grizzled and wild-eyed, the man who had spied on me in my bedroom ever since I was a child.

It was the Hobo.

I couldn’t help it, even if I knew he was just a vision.

I screamed.

Murphy toppled backward, smacking her back hard on the floor.

“What the hell was that?” she said.

“Sorry, Murphy. I saw the Hobo again.”

Murphy sat up, rubbing her back, obviously in pain. I felt real bad about it.