Page 5 of Noble Neighbor
“Dad!”
Clement was close enough for Oliver to see his son’s stricken look. He pushed away from the desk and rushed out the French doors, meeting his boy at the edge of the veranda where Clement skidded to a stop, panting heavily, doubling over, hands to knees. He gulped a huge breath and lifted his head. Cheeks flushed red with grubby tear stains, his eyes bright and full of … fear? Nala was barking, running circles around his boy.
“Clem? What’s wrong?” Oliver leaped over the rail and grabbed hold of Clement’s shoulders. Nala issued another sharp bark. “Nala. Quiet. Sit,” he ordered. For once, the Labrador obeyed. “Son?” He hadn’t seen this look on his son in years.
“Daddy,” Clement managed, almost sobbing. “I … I think … I think they’re dead,” he ended with a wail and flung himself against Oliver.
Alarm zipping through his system, Oliver closed his arms around Clement. “I’m sure you’re mistaken,” he soothed, but his mind raced, imagining the various scenario’s leading to his boy believing the neighbors were dead.
Clement wouldn’t exaggerate. Especially not about …that.
His father rounded the corner, a questioning frown on his face, and Oliver shot him a glance. “Get the truck, Dad. Seems there’s trouble at the neighbor’s.” With a quick nod, his old man about-heeled.
Oliver leaned down and spoke with a calm he didn’t feel. “Tell me what you saw, Clem.”
“I …” Clement pushed away and scrubbed fisted hands over his eyes. “I was at the creek, with Nala. We were hunting driftwood. And on the way back, I saw” — he sucked in a breath — “a red SUV, and figured they’d arrived. I went up to the front door and called, but nobody answered. I turned and then … they were just lying there, under the trees, spread out. They weren’t moving, Dad,” Clement whispered, his voice filled with such horror it turned Oliver’s blood cold.
His father pulled up, and before Oliver could instructClement to stay home, he was jumping into the back, Nala right beside him.
“Clem,” Oliver protested.
“I’m going, Dad.”
Knowing where his son’s mind was at, Oliver gave in and slid into the passenger seat.
“I called 911,” his father said, pulling off.
“Good thinking.” Oliver relayed what Clement had seen.
His father grunted. “Hope the boy’s mistaken.”
“Me too, Dad. Me too.”
Two minutes later, they bounded up the drive and skidded to a stop beside the late-model Suburban. Clement was on the ground before Oliver opened his door, his hand holding the collar of a straining Nala.
“Where, Clem?” Oliver asked softly.
Clement lifted his arm — it was trembling — and pointed to the cluster of Bur Oaks with branches spread wide, forming a large canopy, their trunks partly hidden by a sagging lattice screen. “There.”
“You and Nala stay here. No argument, son.”
“Yes, Dad.”
His father beside him, Oliver closed the distance,cursing himself for not carrying a weapon. He’d become complacent during the years living here. Bringingit hadn’t crossed his mind.
This is not DC, Oliver. This is small-town Nebraska.
He halted, holding up his arm with a fisted hand, and peeked around the rotting screen. Scanning the area, he couldn’t hear nor see anything out of the ordinary. He stepped closer.
Movement caught his eye. Oliver swung his head tothe side. A squirrel darted up a trunk, its partner dashingup the lattice and across the top, leaping onto a low-hanging branch. Berating himself at being startled by the creatures, he dropped his gaze to the ground.
And his breath caught.Please, God, let them just be sleeping.
On a blanket spread under the trees amongst remnantsof a meal, the three figures lay unmoving. The girl closest to him seemed to be a couple of years younger than Clement. Curled into a tight ball and dressed in denim shorts and red tee, her hair was a disarray of brown curls over her face, hiding her features. Sharing a pillow, the second much younger girl stretched out in the opposite direction, arms and legs spread wide in abandon. Similarly dressed to her sibling but with a pink top, her pale hair was confined in a pair of plaits, the end of one resting across her chest.
Her moving chest.
Oliver felt the heavy pressure lift from his own chest, and he breathed out in relief. His gaze shifted, stilling on the woman.
