Climbing out of the truck, I walk down the street and look around, but I don’t see any cars I don’t recognize. She would’ve kept her getaway car close, but not obvious.
I stop on the sidewalk, turn right, and look at my house with Dylan’s next to it on the left. My dad and uncle went to Chicago to meet with an engineer they’re looking to hire for the business. They took my mom, Tate, and James.
Which they’ve been posting pictures of all day on social media.
Fucking hell. She knew the houses were empty when she saw Dylan and me at Rivertown.
I approach the tree situated between the two homes, watching the windows for any sign of the two girls.
And then movement catches my eye, and I jerk my head left, seeing a flashlight in the second-floor hallway of Dylan’s house.
I race up the tree, the branches of the old maple spreading between Dylan’s bedroom and mine. I hop up onto the thick arm leading to the French doors of her room and see them cracked open.
Slowly, I swing my legs over the railing and then dig out my phone, texting Kade and then silencing the ringer.
“Shhh!” I hear someone say from somewhere in the house.
Everything in my body tenses.
I step inside my cousin’s room, glancing around as I make my way for the door.
A small laugh drifts in from the hallway, and I have only a second to hide as the door opens and Tommy Dietrich walks in.
I grab her.
She yelps, but I cover her mouth, wrapping my arm around the kid and holding her tight. She doesn’t fight, though. She barely breathes, like a frightened, little rabbit.
I lean down, whispering into her ear. “You’re going to go home, understand?”
She nods quickly.
“And you’re going to stop choosing losers as friends just because they’re giving you a bit of attention,” I tell her.
She nods again.
She’s hanging in Weston because they’re the only friends she can find.
“Leave,” I tell her. “Quietly.”
I release her, slowly stepping away and watching her climb back out the French doors. She doesn’t look back as she hurriedly climbs into the tree, and I turn, grabbing the door handle and pulling open Dylan’s door.
But then Tommy’s scream hits my back. “He’s in the house!” she shouts.
I blink long and hard, resisting the urge to curse at a thirteen-year-old. Goddammit.
I move into the hallway, closing Dylan’s door behind me, and pause a moment. She might have a weapon. I peer over the railing, not seeing any sign of her, and look around at the doors on the top floor. My aunt and uncle’s room, James’s room, a spare room, bathrooms, and closets. The downstairs office and Jared and Tate’s bedroom would be the primary targets. They have the most valuables.
I step down the stairs, heel to toe, and keep my eyes and ears peeled.
I open my mouth, hesitating, but she knows I’m here. “So how did you know my cousin’s windows were the only ones without an alarm?” I call out in a loud voice. “Maybe you’ve been simmering on this job for a while?”
Did she come to Rivertown with the purpose of getting my wallet and keys? Or Dylan’s?
“Or maybe you just got lucky,” I add.
I stop at the bottom, taking in the dark kitchen to my left and turning toward the living room to my right. The TV is too big to carry, and they don’t collect antiques or art like Madoc and Fallon. I turn around the banister, looking down the hall toward the home office. That room is worth raiding, especially since Jared has a safe he’s never developed the patience to open, so there are things laying everywhere.
Like petty cash for the house and bank registers he brings home from the shop every night if he gets lazy and doesn’t take time to deposit them.
I step toward the office. “You could’ve robbed the race shop, you know?” I call out. “I would’ve let you steal anything.” The floor creaks under my feet, and I pause. “It’s insured and not worth the risk.”
I take another step and then another.
“But coming to our homes was a mistake, Rebel.” I approach the door. “Drop what you took. And leave.”