The First Death (Columbia River, #4)(33)

Malcolm’s gaze returned to the table, and he was startled as he spotted a second man sitting there in the shadow. The second man remained motionless as he watched Malcolm. He wore jeans and hiking boots with red laces. Malcolm immediately looked at the floor, scared to look at either man.

The heavy-bearded man stood and took something out of the little fridge. He held a plastic bowl of macaroni and cheese in front of Malcolm, the kind his mother made from the blue box. The cheesy scent made his stomach rumble and his mouth water.

The man laughed. “Take it, boy.”

Malcolm glanced up to see if he was serious and saw a gentle smile on his face.

“Yes, it’s for you. Here’s a fork.”

Malcolm took both and clenched them tightly. But he didn’t eat. It had to be a trick. The second man watched, not saying a word.

“Eat.”

He took a bite and it reminded him of home. It was cold, but he didn’t care. It was the best thing he’d eaten since he’d been there. Malcolm ate quickly, barely chewing the pasta, scared the man would take it away at any second.

“I see you like that,” said the man with the beard. “That’s how it can be for you every day if your sister goes back home.”

The food dried up on Malcolm’s tongue, and he struggled to swallow. He met the man’s eyes, and they were still kind. Malcolm glanced at the second man. He hadn’t moved.

“Would you like that, boy? Plenty of food for you every day?”

I can do it. If Rowan is safe and healthy, I could manage.

He tried to eat another bite, but his mouth was still dry, so he chewed and chewed.

“You don’t need to answer yet,” the man said. “Think about it.” He held out his hand for the bowl, and Malcolm slowly handed it over. He’d eaten half of it. His stomach was uncomfortable, and he almost didn’t recognize the sensation of a full belly.

The man replaced Malcolm’s blindfold, tying it gently. He patted Malcolm’s shoulder in an affectionate way. “I’ll walk you back.”

In the shed, Rowan launched herself at Malcolm after the man locked the door. Her face was wet.

“I was so scared you weren’t coming back,” she cried, hugging him. “I didn’t know what to do.” She wiped her nose on his shirt and hugged him tighter.

Malcolm patted her back, an echo of how the man had touched him. “I’m okay. Nothing happened. You’re fine.”

“What did he want?”

“The usual,” he lied. “He had me move firewood from one pile to another. A useless chore.” He hugged her, and they sat on the rough floor. She clasped both his hands, still needing to touch her brother. In the poor light, Malcolm saw her lips were cracked. He knew she was hungry and wondered if she could smell the mac and cheese on his breath. He closed his mouth and breathed through his nose.

Hours later Malcolm tried to sleep. Rowan had fallen asleep after crying because the man had never brought them dinner and moaning that her stomach hurt. Guilt racked Malcolm.

This is how it will be for her unless I let her go home.

Malcolm cried a little. He didn’t want to be left alone with the bearded man or the other silent man. But in his heart he knew he needed to let her go.

It was the right thing to do.

In the morning the man yelled for them to put on the blindfolds. Instead of giving them breakfast, the man took Malcolm back to the other place, and he worried that Rowan wouldn’t get any food again. It had been twenty-four hours since she’d eaten, and Malcolm didn’t want to hear her cry again.

Soon he’ll send her home.

Inside, the man took off Malcolm’s blindfold and smiled at him. Malcolm looked away, quickly glancing at the second man, and noticed he was sitting in the exact same spot, wearing the same clothes, and Malcolm wondered if he’d moved since yesterday. He smelled cinnamon and sugar and scanned the small room for the source of the amazing scents.

Then the bearded man handed him a cinnamon roll. It was warm and the icing was melting. Malcolm swallowed hard and met his gaze.

“Eat.”

Malcolm ripped off a piece and shoved it in his mouth. He nearly wept at the taste of sugar and butter and spice. He wanted to save some for Rowan but knew better than to ask. So he just ate, licking his fingers as he went, not caring that the two men watched his every move. After five bites he was mildly nauseated and felt guilty about eating while Rowan had nothing.

Surely he’ll give me something for her.

“Did you think about my idea?” the man asked. “I’m sure your sister was excited by it.”

“I would like her to go home, sir.” Malcolm didn’t mention that he hadn’t told Rowan that she could go home. He didn’t want her to know that he would stay behind. He knew she’d cry and refuse to leave. He couldn’t deal with that.

Malcolm kept his gaze on the floor and saw round drips of icing from his roll. He shuddered, waiting for the man to yell about the mess.

“You want her to leave?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you’ll try harder? Work faster? Listen better?”

“Yes, sir.”

The man’s laughter filled the room, and Malcolm’s gaze flew up. The man had to sit down because he was laughing so hard. The second man was solemn, simply watching. He blinked, his eyes like an owl’s, and Malcolm realized it was the first movement he’d seen. The second man’s eyes were emotionless; they offered no explanation for the other man’s laughter.