Page 71 of Adam's Rising

Peter didn’t answer.

As much as Clara Mae’s pointed question hit a nerve, Adam couldn’t be bothered with whatever his brother was going through. Not right now. Not when Claire could be hurt somewhere.

Yeah, they’d had a sucky couple of years, but Peter hadn’t had to work like a dog or lose his identity. Not only because of Adam, but also Claire. She went out of her way to make sure Peter would stay in school. She’d confessed to Adam that if he allowed him to ride the bus, he’d ditch, like many of the kids did.

She got up every morning, visited Buttercup, always grooming her, and if there was time, they’d go riding. Then she’d race home, clean up, and head back to the ranch to take Peter to school. After school, she brought Peter home then charged to her house to do her homework.

Claire had lost her parents, too, but she never complained. Never let it define who she was.

And even though Claire pushed herself to the point most would crash, she would never run away.

Not without Adam, and not without Buttercup.

* * *

Adam could only thinkof one other place she might be.

Several times Claire had mentioned his family’s cabin… how one day they would fix it up, build a barn, and a deck next to the creek.

He drove slowly up the long dirt road, remembering the night he and Peter had fled.

All the snow was gone, so there was nothing that revealed his skid off the road.

No tire tracks remained of the assassin-carrying black crew-cab trucks.

He swallowed hard as the cabin came into view through the thicket of evergreens, new-spring green trees, and thick brush.

Adam drove the truck at a slow crawl onto the path that led to their house.

No bullet-riddled trucks. No bodies. No fresh graves.

Jeff must have somehow hauled everyone off. Eight bodies — nine, he realized, counting Thomas.

What had he done with Thomas’s body?

He thought maybe she came to check out the cabin, since he told her he couldn’t handle seeing the place. Possibly her grandmother’s Cherokee had broken down.

As soon as he pulled up, he knew Claire wasn’t there — as he’d prayed the entire two hours.

If Claire were there, the moment she heard the truck, she would have peeked around the doorway like she had in Buttercup’s stall.

His heart thrashed on the memory. Her sweet smile when she bent around Buttercup, whispering,Hey.

He lowered his head to the steering wheel. “Please be here, Claire. Please be waiting for me. Show me what you decided for our future. I don’t want a future without you.”

Adam shifted the truck into park, then turned the key to the off position. The engine rattled to a stop.

He reached for his rifle and stepped out, making his slow way to the house he’d never been afraid to enter before now.

The door was open. Yeah, anyone could break in, but why would Jeff have left the door wide open where animals could enter? Every Alaskan knew you didn’t leave doors open. Unlocked, yeah, so people wouldn’t break in to an empty cabin, but never wide-open.

Adam shifted his gun forward.

The entire front room was trashed. Everything overturned, ripped open, shattered.

He stood in the doorway, heart pounding.

No tire tracks. No noise. Whoever had been here was long gone.

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