Page 14 of The Pact

“I’m a felon, lady. I ain’t that stupid.”

I tug open a couple of drawers, find nothing of interest.

“So which kid is missing?” he asks.

“Two boys,” I tell him, keeping it vague.

O’Neil glances left, startles when he realizes we’re alone. “Where’s your buddy?”

He doesn’t wait for a response. Snarling something beneath his breath, the man stalks toward the hall. “Hey!”

“Mr. O’Neil.” I say his name firmly and start after him, hoping he doesn’t do something ill-advised. “Calm down. Stop.”

The man doesn’t break stride. I follow him through the living room, down the hall. He smashes his hand against a wall switch. Light rains down. The man sees Tomasetti in his bedroom, and I hear his teeth grind.

“The fuck you doing in my bedroom, man?”

Tomasetti stares back at him, his expression calm, a take-your-best-shot glint in his eyes. “You gave us permission to look around, remember?”

“Well, you seen enough.” O’Neil crosses the space between them in two strides, too fast, going for Tomasetti. “Sneaking around my place like I’m some kind of criminal, looking at all my shit.”

Tomasetti holds his ground. “Put your hands on me and you’re going to jail.”

For an instant, I think O’Neil is going to make good on all that hate in his eyes. But he stops, hands clenched, mouth working. Struggling with some dark urge he can’t quite get a handle on. Prison taught him the value of self-control, I think.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. O’Neil,” I tell him.

The words seem to snap him out of whatever dark fugue he’d fallen into.

Tomasetti brushes past him and we start toward the door. I step onto the deck, take a deep breath of clean air. Tomasetti stops and turns to the other man. “Word of advice: Lose the swing set. Doesn’t look good with you being a convicted sex offender.”

O’Neil makes a sound that could be a snarl or a laugh, divides his attention between the two of us. “Hit the road, motherfuckers.”

Tomasetti and I don’t speak until we’re in the Explorer and I make the turn onto the road. “Not exactly a citizen of the year candidate,” he says.

I glance his way. “I’m glad you were there.”

“Always happy to do my part when it comes to ruining a pervert’s day, Chief.”

Kevin ran as fast as his legs would take him. Cold air burned his throat, set his lungs on fire. Snow and sleet stung his face like icy needles. Twice he lost sight of Aaron and the yellow beam of his flashlight. Twice, he panicked, poured on the speed, and caught up.

“Wait!” he cried as they barreled down a steep ravine. “Hold up!”

Aaron stopped. “Hurry!” he hissed. “If old man Henderson has an ATV, he’ll catch us.”

“No way is he getting an ATV through these woods.” Using his hands, Kevin scrambled up the other side of the ravine and looked around. “Where are we going anyway?”

Turning, Aaron started through the trees without answering.

Putting his head down to protect his eyes from the snow and sleet, Kevin followed. There was no trail. Just thick trees and heavy brush all around. All he could see through the snow slashing down was the glow of the flashlight and the silhouette of his friend’s back. Kevin had always believed his friend had a superhuman sense of direction. More than once Aaron had gotten them home when they’d wandered too far. This time, though, he wondered if maybe they really were lost.

“Hey! Lookit!”

Aaron stopped. Kevin looked up to see that they’d come upon a narrow dirt road banked on both sides by massive trees and covered with snow. A beat-up mailbox leaned at a precarious angle next to what looked like a lane.

“Maybe they got a phone,” Kevin offered.

Nodding, Aaron looked around. He’d lost his flat-brimmed hat at some point. Snow covered his hair and the shoulders of his coat. He looked cold and … worried. “I think we went the wrong way when we left old man Henderson’s place.”