BooksBarbecue
Back The Runaway
Chapters (80)
  1. Cover
  2. TITLES BY NICK PETRIE
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  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. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  79. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  80. What’s next on your reading list?

She hadn’t lived in a real house in a long time, but that didn’t seem right.

She checked the bedrooms. Something was off there, too, but she couldn’t figure out what. Then she looked at the closet doors. They had the same locks.

She went downstairs with different eyes. The basement door had the same lock as the closets. So did the front and back doors.

If you didn’t have a key, someone could lock you in.

And there was no phone.

She scooped up her pink backpack and ran out to the yard, her chest heaving, panic building up inside her like a creek overflowing its banks. She was losing it. She had to get out of there.

Roy had backed the truck and trailer up the dirt ramp and into the barn. He was nowhere in sight.

She ran up the driveway toward the road. She could feel every rock and root through her cheap Walmart sneakers. She’d left her coat in the truck but she didn’t care. It was a warm day, she was a country girl, and she had all day to walk. At the top of the drive, she’d get into the woods where she’d be harder to find. How far could it be to the next safe place?

She slowed to pace herself and heard a yip. A dog stood in the trees to her right. No, not a dog. A coyote, tawny and sleek and well fed. Regarding her regally.

She heard another sound behind her and spun on her heel. A second coyote trotted up the driveway, not ten feet away.

“Hey,” Roy shouted. He jogged toward Helene, clapping his hands loudly. “Go on, you. Git. Get out of here.”

The coyotes didn’t move. They barely looked at him. They were focused on her.

Roy took the pistol from his belt, pointed it at the ground, and pulled the trigger. The sound was loud.

The animals tensed. They didn’t leave, but he definitely had their attention. He pulled the trigger twice more. BANG. BANG. “Go on, get out of here.”

Finally, as if it had thought of something better to do, the coyote on the driveway trotted into the trees to join the other. Although Helene could still see them both, watching from the underbrush.

“Didn’t I tell you about them? There’s a whole pack. They get kind of bold because I’m gone a lot.” Roy flashed his warm smile, put his big hand on her arm, and turned her toward the house. “Better stick close to home.”

Up the hill, someone tapped a horn. She looked over her shoulder and saw the gray truck coming down the drive.

30

Hollywood backed the truck and trailer up the dirt ramp and into the barn beside Roy’s. Helene stood in the opening and watched while the men reorganized the contents. Roy’s trailer took all the antique furniture and crated paintings and guns. The little convertible and expensive bikes and boxes of power tools went in the gray trailer. If there was cash or jewelry or gold, she didn’t see it. The chest freezer stayed in Roy’s trailer, the generator humming away.