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Why was everyone being rude?

It was the fire. Because of the fire they’d keep coming and keep coming until they eventually broke down the door. They wanted to know how his father started the fire. But he didn’t! They wanted to blame it on him. Why were they coming here? Had his father hired Les Weaver again? Had Les told them that?

It was all so confusing…?.

Another fifteen minutes ticked past before Jeremy got up the nerve to climb off the bed and creep down the stairs. Was someone on the other side of the front door, listening for noises coming from inside?

The idea of that made his stomach hurt, especially when he imagined Detective Davis or Deputy Clegg at the window, watching him through the cracks in the blinds. It was easy to spy on someone. He knew because he’d been spying on Claire since he was a kid.

“Detective Davis?” He rested his forehead against the door as he waited for a response, but there wasn’t one. The detective had left. He cracked open the door, just to be sure, and saw something white flutter to the ground. When he stooped to pick it up, he realized it was a business card.

“J-Jared D-a-v-i-s. L-Lin-coln C-Coun-ty In-ves-tiga-tor.” He had to sound out the words. The note on the back was even harder to read because Detective Davis had written it in cursive.

“I have…to…t-talk to…you. It’s im-por-tant… Call me.”

The fire
was
important. That meant they’d keep coming back.

“What do I do?” he breathed. Tilting his head back, he stared up at the bullet hole in the wall, which suddenly seemed so big, so obvious, that he was sure anyone who walked in would see it.

He had to leave. He had to gather all his survival gear and head into the mountains. That was the only answer, the only way to avoid prison and the cuckoo place.

Even after all his planning, all his dreaming, the idea of being alone out in the wild terrified him. But if Claire wasn’t safe in Pineview, maybe she could go with him.

28

T
he house was finally as restored as they were going to get it, at least until the insurance kicked in to replace what had been broken, but Isaac wouldn’t hear of spending the night. He said he wouldn’t sleep anywhere he couldn’t adequately protect them.

Claire didn’t want to stay, either, but Libby was a thirty-minute drive, and it was already midnight.

“Aren’t you tired?” she asked.

“Not tired enough to close my eyes while there’s a killer running around,” he replied, and she had to admit he made a good point. She hadn’t forgotten the fire. If they stayed, whoever had tried to kill them might try again. And a fire at her place could endanger Leanne, too. Claire couldn’t even imagine how hard it would be to get her crippled sister out of a situation like the one they’d been in two nights earlier.

“You’re right.” She yawned. “But do we have to go all the way to Libby?”

“You have a better suggestion?”

“It’s summer and sort of warm. We could camp out.”

“Sorry. I don’t think sleeping under the stars would make us any less vulnerable.”

“Even if no one knows where we went?”

“I vote for the security of four walls and a locked door. I’ll drive. You can sleep in the truck.”

She felt bad about giving out on him. He had to be tired, too. But she leaned against him and dozed off almost as soon as they’d left Pineview and would’ve slept the whole way if Isaac hadn’t suddenly let up on the gas.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said.

Claire lifted her head from his shoulder. His gaze was riveted on the rearview mirror. Sitting up, she twisted around to see what was going on, but she could find no obvious reason for him to be concerned. A pair of headlights cut through the dark several car lengths behind them, but why would that be a problem? “What is it?” she asked, still groggy.

“Someone’s following us.”

The grogginess fell away. “How do you know?”

The highway was the most direct route to Libby, and it wasn’t unusual for two cars to travel in tandem for the whole thirty minutes.

“Because this is someone who never leaves Pineview.”

“You know the driver?”

“It’s Jeremy Salter.”

She twisted around again. “Are you
sure?
”

“A few seconds ago, he came up close enough for me to be see the make and model of the car. If that’s not his Impala it’s one that’s identical. And his is sort of distinct.”

Claire wasn’t upset by this. Jeremy had been part of her life since she could remember. His showing up actually seemed sort of fortuitous, since they’d been looking for him, anyway. They’d stopped by once more before leaving town to see if he was home yet. “He must’ve followed us when we left his house. I
thought
someone was there.”

“The question is…why wouldn’t he answer his door?”

“Who knows? With Jeremy, nothing’s ever very clear.” Except his devotion to her, which was a constant she’d often felt she could live without. “Does he want us to pull over?”

“He hasn’t flashed his lights or done anything else to indicate that.”

She thought of all the small gifts he’d brought her over the years, how excited he was to have her cut his hair, how he seemed to appear almost everywhere she went. “Pull over. Let’s see what’s going on.”

“Not yet. I want to wait until we get to Libby, just in case.”

“In case he’s dangerous?” she asked. “Jeremy wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“In case it’s someone else, someone who might not be as harmless. His father could be driving his car.”

It could easily be Don. She’d seen him behind the wheel of Jeremy’s Impala at Joe’s place, hadn’t she?

“This is so weird,” she murmured, and waited nervously through the next fifteen minutes, until they reached Libby.

All the businesses were closed, but Isaac found a well-lit service station and pulled in. “Hand me my gun.” He’d stuck it under the seat so it wouldn’t be in the way and she could sleep against him.

Claire did as he asked, then watched her side mirror as the Impala pulled in behind them. “Is it Jeremy?”

“Yeah.”

She let her breath go in relief, but Isaac didn’t put his gun away. He waited until Jeremy got out and they could see that he was unarmed.

Isaac lowered his window, but Jeremy trudged up to her side instead. Claire wasn’t surprised.

“Claire, I’m so glad I found you.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “What are you doing out so late and so far from home?”

He ignored Isaac just like he had at Hank’s. “Something’s happened. Something terrible. I have to leave Pine view. It’s not safe there. You can’t go back, either.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My father’s missing. Just like your mother.”

She wasn’t sure whether or not to take him seriously. “What do you mean…
missing?
”

He scratched his big head, seemed to struggle with the answer. “He’s gone.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been waiting for him, but he doesn’t come home. I haven’t talked to him in days.”

“Where were you earlier?”

“At home. Waiting for him,” he repeated.

“But we stopped by. Why didn’t you answer the door?”

“I didn’t dare. I thought maybe…maybe it was a trick. The person who killed your mother. Or the person who set the fire. You never come over.” For the first time, his eyes darted toward Isaac, giving Claire the impression that it might’ve been Isaac’s presence at his door that had made Jeremy shy away. Jeremy didn’t trust him.

“Your father’s probably over at the Kicking Horse,” she said. “He spends a lot of time there.”

“He’s not at the Kicking Horse.” He screwed up his face as if he was about to cry. “The police are looking for him and everything.”

The police were looking for him so they could ask why he’d been seen burning her mother’s files. But if word of Myles’s interest in Don had gotten out, maybe Les Weaver had killed him to make sure he couldn’t talk. Or maybe someone else had a vested interest in keeping him silent.

She turned to Isaac. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Unfortunately, I believe I am.” Isaac leaned toward the steering wheel so he could see around her. “Has anything else happened that makes you feel your father might’ve been hurt?” he asked Jeremy. A
V
formed in Jeremy’s forehead. “You mean besides the bullet hole?”

Claire gripped the window ledge. “What bullet hole?”

“The one in the living room. It wasn’t there before. It was only there the day my father went missing.”

“And when was that?” Isaac pressed.

“The night the fire started. I saw blood that night, too. S-some speckles on the wall.” He hugged himself, no doubt to control the shaking that had set in. “I think someone t-tried to clean it up. The—the cleaning smell makes me sick. I don’t like it.”

“Holy shit,” Isaac mumbled.

Claire was horrified. Poor Jeremy. He’d had so many things go wrong in his life. “Do you know of anyone who might want to hurt your father?” she asked.

“Has anyone been calling him lately? Anyone you don’t normally hear from?” Isaac chimed in.

“Just Tug,” he said.

Claire’s blood ran cold. “My stepfather’s been calling?”

Jeremy nodded.

She swallowed hard. “Does he usually call?”

“Not usually. He said it’s important. But I don’t think my dad will be calling him back.”

Isaac hated to leave Claire, but he was convinced something was going on—something involving Don Salter and possibly Tug. Someone needed to go back and take a look at the bullet hole and the blood Jeremy had mentioned, before the police figured out that Don was missing. If it
was
a crime scene, the Salter residence would be taped off, and he and Claire would be denied access. As civilians, they’d be excluded from most of the information gathered by the police, too. Just like before, when Alana disappeared.

Isaac wasn’t comfortable allowing that to happen. He respected Myles, and he understood the police worked that way for a reason, but he felt responsible for protecting Claire, and he wasn’t about to let information slip past them that might answer her questions about Alana or help eradicate the danger.

On top of his concern for her, he felt he owed it to Jeremy to help right his world, if possible, simply because Jeremy was incapable of coping with such unusual events on his own. Isaac had once been that vulnerable. He’d been five at the time, but what would he have done without Tippy? Where would he be today?

“Are you okay with staying behind?” he asked Claire before he left.

He could tell she wasn’t happy about it, but she nodded. “I guess.”

“We can’t leave Jeremy alone. He’s too agitated.”

“I know. It’s just that…I want to ask my father why he’s been calling Don. And I want to see his face when he answers.”

Isaac wanted the same thing, too. But why drag Tug from his bed? “He’s not going anywhere. It can wait until tomorrow.” Right now, Isaac needed to take a look at the Salter home, and he preferred to do it at night, when he had a better chance of going unobserved.

“Okay,” she agreed. So he left her and Jeremy in separate rooms at the Cabinet Mountains Motel and headed back to Pineview.

Jeremy paced the motel room Isaac had rented for him. The lights were off, but he hadn’t removed his clothes because he didn’t plan on going to sleep. He couldn’t stay the whole night. He had to leave, go as far into the wilderness as possible—someplace no one would find him.

But he couldn’t go alone. That would be too frightening. He’d heard about Isaac’s bear story, seen the scars on his arm. Everyone asked to see those scars whenever Isaac came into the Kicking Horse. His father had told him that.

Jeremy imagined himself trying to fight off a wild animal, but he didn’t think he’d be able to. He wasn’t good at fighting, not like Isaac was. That meant someone had to go with him, and he didn’t want anyone except Claire. She’d shoot anything that tried to hurt him, and he’d do the same for her. He’d brought his father’s gun from above the fridge and everything.

Pivoting at the foot of the bed, he went back toward the closet. How was he going to convince her? She wouldn’t leave Isaac behind, not willingly. He’d seen the way the two of them kissed when Isaac left the motel, heard the way she’d asked him to be careful.

She was in love.

But she couldn’t be all
that
much in love. She’d forgotten him once before, when she got back together with David. Isaac was just a stand-in for her husband. And why should he get David’s spot? Jeremy had loved Claire longer than anyone. He’d only been in second grade when some other boy pushed him off the swings and she came over to help him to the nurse’s office. Ever since then, he’d lived for her smile, her touch, even the sound of her voice.

If she went back to Pineview, she’d be killed, anyway. It wasn’t safe for her there. Look what had almost happened in the fire.

Jeremy couldn’t let her get hurt. He’d promised her mother he wouldn’t. He couldn’t stand the thought of it himself.

But if he took her with him, Isaac would come after them. Isaac wouldn’t let her go. And Jeremy would never be able to fight someone like Isaac. He’d seen what Isaac had done to anyone who bothered him, especially when they were in high school.

So—Jeremy returned to the window—what if Isaac
couldn’t
come after them? What if Les Weaver got rid of Isaac like he got rid of David?

Jeremy had heard his father on the phone, pleading with Les for it all to be over. He’d said he didn’t want anyone else hurt. But it didn’t matter what his father said because Les started the fire, anyway. He didn’t want to go to prison. He didn’t want to have his block knocked off, either. So he’d do anything. Even kill Isaac.

Jeremy understood. Because
he’d
do
anything
before he’d be raped in the butt—or dragged off to the cuckoo hospital. His father had told him too much about both places.

He’d do anything before he’d lose Claire, too.

He needed to call Les and tell him where Isaac was. That was what his father would do, wasn’t it? Yes. He’d done it before. Jeremy wasn’t sure Les would be close enough to fix anything. He lived far away. But if he set the fire, maybe he wasn’t so far away right now. Maybe he could get to Pineview in time.

Taking a deep breath, Jeremy crossed over to the phone. He had a lot of numbers in his head from all the messages he’d taken in the past week. But he knew one of them belonged to Les. And he knew which one. It started with three extra numbers.

A man picked up almost immediately.

“Is this Mr. Weaver?” Jeremy asked. He figured that was more polite than calling him Les.

“Who is this?”

He hadn’t spoken very clearly. He had his fingers in his mouth, chewing on his nails. He forced himself to stop. “Jeremy. Don Salter’s son.”

“What do you want? Where’s Don? I’ve been trying to reach him.”

Jeremy wondered if he had the right Mr. Weaver. “Are you Les?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes! Where’s Don?” he asked again.

His impatience reminded Jeremy of his father. “He’s dead.”

“What? How?”

“He killed himself. With a gun. But I have a message for you.”

“What kind of message?” He didn’t seem to care that Don was dead. He didn’t act all that surprised or ask any more about it. That didn’t make him a very nice friend.

“Isaac Morgan will be at our house soon. And he’ll be alone.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He owned the cabin you burned down.”

“
I
didn’t burn anything down!”

Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he only shot David. Jeremy didn’t argue. He was getting too nervous. “Okay, well, anyway, no one else will be home.”

There was a long silence. “Are you kidding? This is like taking instructions from a ten-year-old! How can I trust you?”

“I’m just trying to help,” Jeremy said.

“Fuck!” he screamed, and hung up.

“That’s a bad word,” Jeremy said, but there was no one to hear him.