Hart's Hollow Farm (New Americana 4)

“What’s going on?”

Cringing, Kristen glanced back at Dylan, who ran toward them. Sadie hovered a few steps behind. They both stared wide-eyed and pale-faced at the scene before them.

“Wait there with Sadie, please,” she said, striving to keep her tone calm and renewing her efforts to free the boy.

Emmy was inconsolable. Her fierce grip tightened, her knuckles turning white.

“Emmy,” Kristen begged. “Please let him go.”

“They’ve ruined it.” Emmy’s eyes, panicked and confused, settled on the decaying building. “What’s Cindy Sue going to do?” A tear rolled down her cheek, and her voice broke when she added, “She’s worked so hard. Been good to so many people.” She shook the boy harder. “You don’t do a body like that, you hear? You don’t just throw someone away.”

The boy’s face contorted with pain. “Get off me, you crazy bitch.”

“Shut up,” Dylan yelled, moving toward him. “Don’t call her that.”

“Dylan, go back to the truck,” Mitch said firmly. He nodded at Kristen when they finally managed to pry Emmy’s hands from the boy and move her away. “You’re Zach, right? Charles’s boy?” He eyed Zach’s upper arm. “You all right?”

Rubbing his arm and scowling, Zach nodded.

“I’m sorry about this. Go on home.” Mitch turned back to Emmy and held her thrashing arms at her sides.

“You don’t do a body like that,” Emmy shouted.

“She’s crazy,” Zach spat, snatching up his skateboard.

Mitch’s tone hardened. “Go home, Zach.”

Low voices and hushed murmurs mixed with the peppy music still streaming from the ice cream parlor’s speakers.

Kristen glanced around, and when she saw that people had abandoned their tables outside the ice cream parlor and had gathered behind them to watch the disturbance, her face heated. Dylan, red faced, hovered nearby, shifting from foot to foot. Sadie clutched the neckline of her T-shirt with both hands, mouth trembling and tears streaming down her face.

Kristen looked at Mitch, and the helplessness in his eyes as he struggled to restrain Emmy’s angry movements made her chest tighten.

“What can I do, Mitch?” she asked softly, taking a hesitant step forward.

Cheeks pale, he shook his head. “I don’t know. Just stay back.”

“Cindy Sue?” Emmy craned her neck and peered past Mitch. “Come out here.”

Mitch’s tone was firm. “Emmy, she’s not there.”

“I have to go to her. She might be hurt. All that glass . . .”

“She’s not there.”

“You let me go,” Emmy screamed. “You suits are all the same. Selfish. Hateful. Useless—”

“No one is there, Emmy.” Mitch’s hands tightened their hold on her shoulders. “No one. They’re gone. Do you hear me? Everyone is gone.”

Her arm shot out, and her hand slapped Mitch’s cheek, the sharp crack of flesh striking flesh rocking Mitch back on his heels.

Kristen gasped. “Emmy!”

“Nana, don’t,” Sadie cried, tearing past Emmy and barreling into Mitch. She wrapped her arms around his waist, her small shoulders racked with sobs.

Red blotches rose on Mitch’s left cheek. He released Emmy and lifted his hands, palms out. His fingers shook.

“You don’t throw someone away.” Emmy turned, stumbling a bit, and stared blankly at the people gathered behind them. “You don’t just throw ’em away.”