I turn on my heel and drag Ethan along. We trudge past Hatch and into the neighboring yard. Before us stands the remains of a three-bedroom ranch, but the back half has been eaten by fire. I pull Ethan in, stepping over what looks like a dead animal, but I don’t stop. When we get to the middle of what used to be the living room, now blackened and missing the roof, he pulls back. “Riley,” he says, crossing his arms over his narrow chest, “I do not want to watch you pee.”

“You’re not. Listen, I need to ask you some questions. No fooling around, okay. We only got a few minutes.”

He squishes up his face, but nods.

I brush the hair out of his eyes. “What happened after I got shot?”

Ethan frowns. “You were bad, crying and bleeding all over. I thought you were gonna die. Clay said we had to take you to the hospital. I didn’t want to, but we had to.”

I nod rapidly. “How’d we get outta town?”

“Clay found gas and we took a car and drove to that big hospital, the one with all the shiny lights.”

My eyes flick out the open front door. Out there are men. “What else?”

Ethan scratches his head and looks across the room. His eyes lock on a splash of red in the corner—a plastic toy car, melted and half-buried under a pile fallen plaster. I lean over until my head blocks his view. “What. Else.”

His eyes flick back to me. “After we dropped you off, Clay got us a room. We sat on our butts for days, trying to figure how to get you out once you was better. One day, Clay’s daddy just shows up at the door. Riley, I thought you and Dad were bad, but you should hear Clay and his daddy fight.”

Arn. A mention of him still hurts like a finger dug into a raw wound. I twirl my hand in a hurry-up gesture. “How did they get me out of the hospital?”

Ethan shrugs. “Clay just said, ‘We’re gonna get Riley.’ That was yesterday. We got in the van and drove to that big hospital. What’s it like in there?”

“Later.” I stare up at the charred ceiling as I try to piece it all together. A cloud slips over the setting sun, plunging us into shadow. The birdcalls stop for a moment. I shiver. What does the Sheriff have to gain from getting me out?

Clay’s voice calls from the front door. “Hey, you two in there?”

“Yeah, Clay,” Ethan yells back.

“It’s getting dark.” Clay’s voice sounds strained.

My time is up. I grab Ethan’s shoulders and turn him around. “Look away if you don’t want to see me pee.”