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Back The Hallows Save as PDF
Chapters (89)
  1. TITLE PAGE
  2. COPYRIGHT PAGE
  3. DEDICATION
  4. CONTENTS
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. 67
  72. 68
  73. 69
  74. 70
  75. 71
  76. 72
  77. 73
  78. 74
  79. 75
  80. 76
  81. 77
  82. 78
  83. 79
  84. 80
  85. 81
  86. 82
  87. 83
  88. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  89. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I thought a moment, then popped the hood of the car and went over to the engine. I took out the oil dipstick, undid the gas cap, and dipped it into the fuel tank. Only the very tip was wet.

“He ran outa gas.” The only conceivable path that he could’ve taken was the dirt trail. “Hope you can hike in your loafers.”

The troopers called for backup and one of them, a Trooper Smith, came with us, and we headed up the trail. Once we got over the hill, the sound of traffic faded, and there was nothing but a breeze blowing over loose sand.

An old farmhouse with a worn-out fence was up ahead about a quarter mile. It had an empty horse pen and a garage that looked like it was about to fall over.

“Why would he run up here?” Will asked. “He had to have known we’d search the place with his car right there.”

“He probably planned on stashing Lyle up here since he’d know the BOLO call would be for a man and a kid. Then he’d hitchhike or walk for gas somewhere.”

We stopped a couple hundred feet from the house. The windows were broken out, and the white paint had faded and chipped until there was almost none left. A welcome mat was visible in front of the door, covered in dirt and sand, the letters fading.

Trooper Smith said, “We should wait.”

I glanced back at him. “We should. But I have no idea what he’s going to do with that kid.”

“I can’t let you go in there. Sorry.”

I nodded, watching the house. It looked like a strong gust of wind could blow it over. “Let’s at least get a little closer while we wait.”

We walked toward the house a bit more before we heard something inside. The door opened and Roscoe stood there, a Glock in his hand. The trooper drew his sidearm, and I stepped in front of him, my arms out to show Roscoe I wasn’t armed.

“Roscoe, everyone needs to relax. We are not here to hurt you.”

“I didn’t want this.”

“I’m sure you didn’t. No one does.” I hesitated and bit my lip. “Where’s Lyle, Roscoe? Is he all right?”

“Of course he is.”

“Good. Why don’t you send him out here with us so he doesn’t get hurt? Then you and I can talk.”

He mumbled something, the gun still pointed at the ground. If he raised it even a little, the trooper would likely push me out of the way and fire.

“I’m scared, Tatum.”

“I know you are, pal. Listen, I’m not going to let anyone hurt you or Lyle.” I turned to the trooper. “Put your sidearm away.”

“Can’t do that.”

“Put your damn gun away, Trooper. Now!”