Page 27 of Dark Roads
That was the hardest part—thinking about how they would react. Lana might freak out, and Cash was so sweet. What would this do to his six-year-old head? But I didn’t have a choice.
“It’s only until I turn eighteen.” I’d planned every moment. Hour by hour. Still, so much could go wrong. “You should move too. Vaughn is going to be all over you.”
“No way. I’m not leaving you out there alone.”
“Then get security cameras—and something for your computer. Like a major firewall.”
“Jesus, this is intense.”
I stared at him until he looked at me. “You don’t have to help me. I’ll understand.”
“Shut up.” He reached across the bench seat, bumped his fist into my upper bicep. His way of saying he loved me, but I couldn’t say it back. The words felt like a curse. Everyone I loved died. I turned to stare out the window. We just had to find the cabin and it would be okay.
The mountain would protect me. Dad had been preparing me since I was little. We were always camping. Rain, shine,or snow. Holiday or middle of the week. Dad didn’t care. He rarely checked my report card, said he trusted me to see it through, and that he could teach me more than I’d ever learn within four walls. We took Jonny with us a lot of those weekends. Dad showed us how to find shelter, water, forage for berries and mushrooms. We navigated with a compass and the stars. We howled with wolves in the distance. Dad called us his pack. His wild cubs.
Sometimes Dad and I were only home for a few days before he was out in the backyard, staring at the mountain and motioning for me to come stand with him. He’d throw his arm around my shoulder, pull me close so I was tucked under the warm weight.
You feel it? The mountain’s calling us, baby girl. She wants us to come home.
CHAPTER 9
Shards of glass covered the wood floors in Dad’s workshop and crunched under the soles of my shoes. The gun safe lay on its side, the metal lock blackened from a blowtorch. Dad’s quad was gone, same with my dirt bike. The workshop looked so empty without them. I spun in a slow circle. The fishing rods and the crossbow were removed from their holders. All the camping gear, Dad’s outdoor clothing, his winter sleeping bag, knives, and toolboxes were also missing.
It was just as bad inside the house. The moving boxes were ripped open, clothing pulled out, dishes broken, pots and pans tossed, as though someone had been searching for jewelry or money, electronics. Any items they could sell. Other things were missing too, but they weren’t of value to a normal thief, and the police wouldn’t notice. Candles, batteries, flashlights, glue, string, water bottles, a few photo albums. The large framed photos I’d have to leave behind.
After Jonny and I had checked the miner’s cabin to make sure it was still standing, we’d rushed to get everything ready. Vaughn had begun to make noise about me sleeping in my own room, and eventually Lana was going to relent. Now that I’d packed Dad’s things, they were planning on holding an estate sale soon and storing my personal stuff in their garage. I was out of time.
During the week, Jonny went without me and stocked the cabin with supplies. It took him a few trips with his dad’s quad and a trailer. He used his own money until he could sell my items.
Jonny and I planned the fake robbery for a day when Lana was taking Cash to a birthday party and Vaughn was giving a safety talk. Lana dropped me off with a few boxes to collect the last of the apples in the orchard. I’d told her that they made the best applesauce.
They’d think that the house was robbed the night before, and that I didn’t notice right away that the front door was ajar because I was in the yard collecting apples. Meanwhile, Jonny had been moving things out, starting at dawn, when he rolled my dirt bike, Dad’s quad, and his dirt bike into the gulley at the back of the property. After dark, he’d pick them up with his truck. Then he’d take Dad’s bikes to a guy he knew who’d break them into parts and sell them. Same with Dad’s power tools, watches, and Mom’s jewelry. Jonny was going to file the serial number off my bike, paint it camouflage, and hide it partway up the mountain.
No way was I selling Dad’s guns. Three rifles, two shotguns, and Dad’s favorite, his .45 Smith & Wesson handgun. He loved them, and I needed them. Selling guns was too dangerous anyway. Jonny figured we’d get a few thousand for the bikes and tools. The money would be used for supplies and whatever I needed to start a new life in a year.
Jonny had left a few minutes ago after helping me fill the crates with apples. I’d wanted some time alone before making the call to Lana. I opened Amber’s text from this morning. She’d sent me a photo of the sunrise.Do you think the sun ever wishes it could sleep in?
LOL. Maybe? I wish I could see a sunrise with you.
Me too. I miss you.
I let myself read over the conversation one more time, then I closed my messages and sat on the floor in the corner where Mom’s easel used to stand—Dad said she liked the light from the window. The floor was dotted with bits of paint. I brushedmy fingertips over the smooth bumps. When I walked out the door today, it would be the last time I’d be here, in our house, the last time I’d be close to my parents. My throat thickened, and I wanted to stop everything. I wanted to force Lana to let me keep my home. But it was no use. I couldn’t make the mortgage payments.
I took a few quick breaths, so I would sound rushed, then made the call.
“Lana, my house has been robbed! They took everything—my dirt bike, all Dad’s tools! Someone smashed through the window.” I broke into sobs, drowning out her gasp of shock, her explaining that she would call Vaughn. I ended the call and moved to sit on the couch.
It was a shame that I’d shared all those photos on Instagram. That we didn’t have an alarm. Too bad the lock on the workshop was old and so many people knew the house was vacant.
It could have been anyone. Anyone at all.
Lana was in the backyard playing with Cash, but she’d check on me soon. I’d spent the night and most of the morning fake-crying about the fake robbery. At the moment I was supposed to be trying to relax and watch TV. Instead, I’d turned it up loud enough to cover the sound of my voice, and I was watching them from the window while I called Amber.
“I have to tell you something.”
“Okay?”
“I’m running away on the weekend, but I can’t tell you where—not yet.”
