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the air.
    An engine started. The battered old truck stood out like a janitor at the prom. It was dark blue, splattered with mud and probably decades old, with a cap on the bed. The evening sun glared off the side window, but as I walked slowly past the front I saw a figure inside—the one-handed man. He had his hand on the wheel but his head back, eyes closed.
    I paused, studying his face. I guessed he was in his twenties, with short, light brown hair and pleasant features in a mask as still as death.
    He opened his eyes and looked straight into mine.
    I couldn’t move as he held my gaze. My heart thumped against my ribs. He studied me without expression, no smile, no frown, nothing in his face but weariness.
    Finally I had to blink, and once the eye contact was broken, I jerked my gaze away and kept moving. I quickly turned between the next two cars, to get out of his view. I’d have to cross behind his truck to reach my car, which might look odd if he was still watching, but I didn’t care so long as I got out of there, fast.
    I noticed the rusty screeching again. It was coming from his truck. I stumbled to a stop, staring at the back of the truck. What could be making that sound? The tailgate and back window on the cap were closed, hiding the sight inside, but the screech came again and again like someone—something—screaming.
    The screams seemed to echo in my head. I couldn’t take any more. I turned away with a hand over my mouth to hold back my own scream and hurried to my car.
     

Chapter 6
     
    I pulled up in front of the house and turned off the car. For a minute I just stared at my home, as if seeing it for the first time. The three-bedroom bungalow had seemed so big and beautiful when we moved in twelve years before, after Mom got married. Now the wood siding looked faded, and a lonely stump in the front yard was all that remained of the tall pine that had to be cut down after suffering damage in a heavy snowstorm. The evergreens around the sides of the house were dropping needles on the patchy grass, which needed to be mowed.
    I sighed. My escape had been temporary. I’d been so excited and terrified moving to Albuquerque, where the student body at UNM was three times the size of my entire hometown. Mom had warned me of all the dangers there, but despite a few scares, I’d emerged unscathed—only to return home, let my guard down, and stumble on death.
    The heat started to build up in the car, and the smell of fried chicken tightened my throat, but I took a moment to rehearse my lines. I wanted to collapse in my room with the lights out and hide from the world, but that wasn’t going to happen.
    I pushed my hair out of my face, grabbed the grocery bag, and headed up the walk, trying not to let my shoulders slump.
    I had a smile in place by the time I entered. Ricky was on the couch, messing around on his phone while the TV murmured about some science topic. He grinned at me, his cheerful face still chubby with baby fat despite a recent growth spurt, and my smile became a little easier. Jay was wrong about one thing. I did have a friend in town, even if it was just my little brother.
    I set the bag on the coffee table and sank down next to him, putting my arm around his shoulders. He snuggled against me, affectionate behavior that was probably abnormal for a twelve-year-old boy, but no one had accused Ricky of being average.
    Mom stepped into the room. “You’re late. It’s your turn to make dinner and it’s already after six.”
    “I know. I got delayed at the resort.” I was glad I had practiced the words so I could avoid the truth without actually lying. “I picked up dinner on the way home. Didn’t you get my text?”
    “I got it,” Ricky said. “Mom, I told you.”
    She glared. “I should never have let you get him that phone.”
    I was careful not to smile. Texting meant I didn’t actually have to talk to Mom, but the disadvantage was she could pretend she hadn’t gotten the message.