around. The candlelight shined over shelves containing all the junk he’d collected. She pinched her nose, overpowered by the leather stench of at least twenty baseball gloves that were once the property of several different sweaty hands. She shook her head with disgust and left the room.
Her hand trembled when she reached for the doorknob to Hunter’s room. What if he was in there? She didn’t want to see him ever again. She forced herself to grab the cold, metal knob.
Her heart pounded away like a rabbit caught in a snare, but she reminded herself that she’d been released from Hunter’s trap. Molly chose to be here; she wanted to get her things and leave. She pushed the door open and walked inside. Her chest billowed with fast, ragged puffs as anger from Hunter’s betrayal surged through her like a wildfire.
Molly lit more candles, brightening the room—her room. Her suitcases were under the bed. She pulled them out, slamming them down on the mattress, unlatching and exposing their hollow and empty insides. Molly opened the closet—her closet—and grabbed clothes, hangers and all, heaping them into the suitcases. She dumped her undergarments and jewelry on top, throwing the depleted drawers into a corner of the room; using more force with each toss until she noticed how good breaking them felt. She looked around, feeling feral, snared no longer, unchained and savage. She lifted Hunter’s wooden desk chair and pounded it into the drawers, smashing, splintering, and howling with pleasure and rage. She found joy in her destruction.
Breathing hard, heart racing, she walked out of the room with her packed suitcases. Out of the room that was no longer hers. Molly walked out of the house that was no longer her house and stopped next to the broken street. She set her suitcases down and looked back.
Candlelight glowed in the windows upstairs.
She didn’t want the warmth of cheery candlelight to welcome Hunter back home tonight. She went back inside, up the stairs, and into his trashed room. Standing over the glowing candle, she filled her lungs with air. The candlelight flickered. Molly’s attention was drawn to the pile of broken wood in the corner.
She tore down the curtains, adding the fabric to her pile. She placed the candle underneath before walking out for the final time.
Back on the street, Molly stood by her suitcases and watched the fire grow. First one window and then the next imploded as the licking flames tasted oxygen and devoured the wooden house. Black smoke rolled under the roof, rising into the dark, cold sky.
Something inside her begged to leave, to run away. But she was mesmerized by her handy work. A wicked smile crept over her face. He deserved this as a reminder; they all did.
Jimmy arrived first, screaming Hunter’s name. His anguished cries resembled the ones that had resounded inside her head all afternoon.
He turned back from the flames, shaking her, questioning her. He wasn’t so beautiful now. Molly spat in his face and laughed, dizzy from the glare of the blazing house background.
Rough hands spun her around and in her anger she slapped the person who dared touch her like that. Her brother, Mark, was yelling at her now, his hands clasping her wrists, holding her tight. The air around them crackled with light and sound, exposing the darkness, as the roar of the fire grew warmer and brighter and louder. A buzz of excitement emanated from the crowd that gathered to gawk. The crowd’s little fingers pointed at her, accusing, threatening.
Vanessa screamed at her. “Where’s my brother, you stupid bitch!”
Molly blinked.
“Tell me where he is right now!” Vanessa demanded. Her fist struck Molly across the cheek hard, spinning her from Mark’s grip, knocking her to the ground. Molly rubbed her jaw while the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.
Mark struggled with holding Vanessa back as she strained to give Molly another shot.
“Where is he? Where is he? Where is he?” Scout’s sister screamed.
Jimmy knelt beside Molly. He was calmer now, but there was still urgency in his words. “Molly, are they in there? Are Hunter and Scout in the house?”
Slowly, her mind caught up with all the fuss. She shook her head no. “I thought they were at Brittany’s.”
Jimmy turned to Vanessa. “They aren’t in there. They haven’t gotten back.”
Her body shaking, Vanessa hugged Mark. He stroked her hair, whispering in her ear. A few moments later, he left his girlfriend and walked toward Molly. She remained seated and dazed on the pavement with the fire roaring behind her and the crowd buzzing around. Mark gripped her arm and she felt helpless, staring into the hard eyes of her twin. He jerked her up.
“Mark, you’re hurting me.”
He tightened his grip.
As they passed through the crowd, Molly noticed the three strangers off to the side. One of them had dark, intense eyes. He smiled at her. She smiled back as Mark escorted her away.
TWENTY-ONE
Hunter drifted in painful unconsciousness, buffeted by the wave of exhaustion from the previous day. He noticed as he slept how uncomfortable his bed felt, and also the constant nudging. In his mind he knew it couldn’t be Molly—she’d gotten the boot. So who was messing with his sleep now? And why were his ribs hurting so bad?
He cracked open his eyes to darkness. His breath rose like clouds in the cold air.
And who the hell didn’t realize that it’s still nighttime? And why couldn’t he move his arms and legs?
The nudging rocked into him again. Hunter grunted. “What?”
Scout whispered close behind him, “Finally, you’re awake.”
“Are you spooning me?”
“Would you rather freeze to death?”
“Is that a trick question?” Hunter wormed an inch away, but the pain from the recent kick Jolanda laid into him halted his progress. “How long was I out?”
“Maybe three hours; four hours at most. Jolanda took off a while ago to meet with that Chase kid. Are you ready to bust out of here?”
Hunter peered around the barren room where he lay, securely bound. His vision adjusted, assisted by what little light filtered through the chalky window. He shivered from the freezing temperature, but would never admit to Scout that spooning had probably been a good thing.
“Aren’t we guarded?”
“Not now. Jolanda told the others to take shifts watching us, but they blew her off the second she walked. It’s been all snores ever since.”
“Then I guess all we have to do is magic our way out of here.” Hunter closed his eyes. The cold was unbearable. He gritted his teeth and wormed back against Scout’s warm body.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m freezing.”
“Look, I’m going to spin around. I need you to grab the knife strapped to my left ankle.”
Hunter frisked Scout’s ankle, found the knife and unsheathed the one-inch blade. He manipulated the knife, cutting the rope binding his wrists and then his ankles. The keen edge sliced through the braided rope as though it were a biscuit.
“Okay, I’m out. Meet you back home.”
“Just cut me loose. Jolanda could be back any time now.”
“Better not call her that, little Davey,” Hunter said. Smiling in the darkness, he severed Scout’s bonds. “She has one hell of a boot.”
“Next time I won’t be tied down. Now give me the knife.”
Hunter handed over the shiny blade. “You keep that thing sharp.”
