It may not be the right house. The right man.
None of this is right, anyway.
Zane walks up the driveway, Dakota by his side. Megan and Erin are at home, watching over all the kids and babies, and Rafe is at the shop, because someone has to be—but otherwise we’re all here.
Not sure what we’re thinking. What we could do other than look at the house, maybe talk to the neighbors. Find the man himself? Ask him if he ever tortured Zane?
Jesus. What if it’s dangerous? I shoot Audrey an uneasy look. She’s pregnant, and I wish she’d stayed home, but of course she’s here. My friend is a stubborn girl, which is why I love her. Zane is a good friend, the man who saved Asher, who played a huge role in making her happy.
Hopefully nothing bad happens today.
Hopefully something does happen, to put an end to Zane’s nightmares and the shadows haunting everyone’s eyes.
I follow along the driveway, glancing through the window into a nearly empty living room, barely furnished with a ratty couch and some shelves. There’s trash strewn on the floor—candy wrappers, pizza cardboard boxes, bottles.
My heart thudding heavily, I seek out Dylan and take his hand. To reassure him, I tell myself. He has to feel as unsettled by all this as I do.
He squeezes my hand, and I feel better, his solid presence and bright eyes calming me down. “I don’t think he’s in.”
And I shouldn’t feel so relieved to hear it. Also… “How do you know?”
“A gut feeling. His car is missing, too. And Tyler was ringing the bell when I left him out front.”
“He might not be in the mood for visitors.”
Dylan shrugs. “Maybe.”
The yard is shabby, unswept, covered in rotting leaves and twigs. There are old things stacked in the back: a rusty washing machine, and a freezer, together with piles of crates and musty cardboard boxes.
Asher tries the back door, then raps on it, and on the windows. The banging echoes in the quiet neighborhood.
There’s no reply from inside. A small dog from inside another house starts barking.
Dakota wanders to a small window, maybe of a bathroom, and calls for Zane to lift her up, which he does easily. She’s tiny.
“See anything?” I ask, standing behind them.
“He’s a slob. Dirty clothes and towels all around.” Zane lowers her back down. “I’m not even sure what we’re looking for. If he’s not here, how can we do anything?”
“I’m going to talk to the neighbors,” I announce, and smile when Dylan joins me. “We’ll take the house to the right.”
“We’ll take the other side,” Tyler says, coming around the house, pushing dark hair from his eyes. “You guys ask across the street. We need to know if this is Kenneth’s house, if he still lives here, what car he drives, what he eats, and anything else we can find out.”
Zane lifts his brows at that. “Right on it, Sarge.”
It’s good to see him reacting like he normally would, not as… zombie-like as he’s been of late. I bet the fact that we believe him now, that he doesn’t feel like he’s going crazy anymore, has helped.
“Screw you,” Tyler mutters, grinning wolfishly, his brow smoothing out. “We’re close now, I can feel it.”
“Don’t care about your feelings, fucker.” Zane tugs on Dakota’s hand, hauls her closer. “Kidding aside, I just need this to be fucking over.”
“We’ve made it this far,” I say. “Let’s mak
e it count. Anything we find out could help.”
“Yeah.” Dylan slides an arm around my waist, distracting me. “We need some fucking answers.”
That we do, no doubt about it.