“My skin is light?”
“Well, yes, ma’am.”
“I get that a lot. Don’t be embarrassed. The MacDonalds are my grandparents on my mother’s side, and my father is as white as you, no offense.”
“No, it’s fine; it makes more sense now.”
“I’ve been watching you watch me, Drake.”
“I’ve been watching the others is all, and you keep popping up,” he replied.
“How do you know my name?” he asked, realizing the other guard must have said it.
“I don’t mean you were watching me now or a few days ago. I mean before.”
“Before what?”
“You don’t remember, do you?” she asked.
She sang in a slow, sweet country voice. “Drake and Whitney are sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes...” She trailed off, looking past him.
“Time to go, Drake,” said the other guard. “Mac wants us back up top.”
“Can it wait for just five more minutes?” Drake turned to ask him.
“Nope, he wants us now.”
Drake turned back to tell her he would be back, but she was gone, disappeared into the woods.
They got up the cliff just in time to hear the bell.
It was the triangle-shaped one Mrs. MacDonald had clanged at 5:30 every night for nearly 30 years, whether it was the whole family or just her and her husband sitting for dinner.
Whitney had heard that bell over the past several days, since she made it up here. Every time she heard it at 11 a.m., it would startle her and bring back a flood of memories of her parents and grandparents gathering for a family meal.
The past few days, she would play hide-and-seek with the kids for the hour, asking them not to tell the adults. So far, it seemed to work.
Mac and his men observed the children exiting the house. The front door was locked from inside. There was the unmistakable sound of a deadbolt sliding into place and they watched the curtains in every room being drawn shut.
“What is going on in there?” asked one of Mac’s guys.
“It can’t be anything good,” remarked a female guard.
Mac and Cory observed the scene for fifteen minutes, watching as three boys, maybe ten or twelve years old, tried peeking into a window, with two of them lifting the other up as quietly as they could while laughing aloud.
“I know what’s going on,” came the call from behind them. “And it’s nothing those boys should be seeing,” called out Whitney, standing at the base of the rock.
“Can I go talk to her?” Drake asked Mac.
“Okay, just be ready if we need you here.”
She waited for him to climb down, and then asked him to sit with her.
“Okay,” he said, “I do remember you. My brother and I would sit up here and watch your family. I always told him how pretty you were, and he would sing that song about the baby carriage and such. You were up here almost every weekend for years, and then one day you were just gone. I came back week after week but never saw you again.”
“I know,” she replied, “it’s not like we were friends you and me, but I heard how you talked about me to your brother, and I thought it was sweet.”
“Where are your parents?” he asked. “I mean, are they okay?”
“I don’t know. We moved to upstate New York five years ago when my dad’s job transferred him. We were supposed to move back here to Loveland in the next couple of weeks. I came out for the last school semester and stayed with an old lady that used to work with my dad, just so I could meet some new friends before summer. I never made it up here, though; well, until now. It was a long walk from town.”
“How old are you?” Drake asked.
“Eighteen as of two days ago. I had a party and everything right over in those woods,” she said. “With just some squirrels and a few rabbits.”
“I’m sorry,” Drake said. “I would have come…if I would have knowed, of course.”
“You’re the same age as me,” she said, matter of factly. “Where are your brother and parents?”
“They’re gone, all of them now. It’s just my dogs and me.”
“I’m sorry… Well, I hope my parents come back, and if they make it here they know right where to find me. Have you seen my grandparents?”
“Yes, we rescued them up here a few days back, and they are back down the mountain at Saddle Ranch. Don’t worry, they are safe.”
“So, what are you all doing here?” she asked in a direct but respectful tone.
“We are trying to get the house back for your grandparents.”
“Before they find the supplies, right?”
“Exactly,” he replied.
“Okay, let me help,” she offered.
Drake led the clearly unarmed girl to the top of the mountain. She was wearing green shorts and a matching lightweight long-sleeved shirt that blended into the mountain like stylish camouflage.
They reached the top, and she was introduced as the granddaughter of the MacDonalds.
“The ritual,” she said to all, but keeping her voice low, “is some kind of voodoo or black magic. They do it every day before lunch and no kids are allowed. The main guy is the leader, the one who got shot.”
“That would be Ralph,” offered Mac.
“So, what’s the plan?” she asked Mac directly.
“Well, they have a deadline of 8:30 a.m. tomorrow morning to move on up or down the mountain.”
“Or what?” she asked.
“Or we have the unpleasant job of removing them from the property—not unlike the way it used to be before the day,” continued Mac.
“That’s a tough call,” she replied.
“It sure is,” replied Mac. “I don’t suppose you have any other suggestions?”
“Maybe just
