“I need you to put a call in to the state police,” Butler said, turning his attention to Levi. “Tell them we need some agents here ASAP.” He mopped his sweaty forehead with his sleeve. “And tell them to bring the search dogs. We’ve got two dead bodies, two missing kids, and we’re going to need all the help we can get.”
18
Present Day
After eating, Wylie and the boy returned to the living room and sat in front of the fire. Wylie couldn’t stop looking at him. The rash around his mouth seemed to be calming down a bit. It was still red but not as inflamed. Wylie leaned in more closely. Something silver and shiny glinted back up at her. Wylie lightly touched his face and rubbed. Surprisingly, the boy didn’t pull away. His skin clung momentarily to Wylie’s fingers, then pulled away.
Wylie carefully picked the small, silver fragment from the boy’s bottom lip and rolled it between her fingers. It was gummy and sticky. Duct tape? It couldn’t be.
“Did someone put tape over your mouth?” Wylie asked in a whisper.
The boy blinked up at Wylie. He wasn’t shocked by the question and didn’t react with indignation. He simply nodded.
“Who?” Wylie asked, her chest constricting with something she couldn’t quite name. Horror, anger, sadness. All three, probably. “Your dad?” Wylie asked. “Your mom?”
Before the boy could respond, there was a thunderous crack. And then another and another. Wylie jumped to her feet, smacking her shin against the cedar chest.
“Dammit,” she muttered at what sounded like breaking glass coming from outside. The windows were fogged over and Wylie rubbed her fingers over the glass to clear them. From this vantage point, she couldn’t find the source of the noise. It was still snowing, the wind had whipped itself into a frenzy, and she could barely see beyond a few feet in front of her.
Another crack splintered the air. Tas whimpered.
“The trees,” Wylie said. “Tree branches are snapping because of the weight of the ice and the snow. First the trees, next it will be the electrical wires.”
The boy looked at her questioningly.
“It means it’s going to get very dark and very cold fast,” Wylie said, moving from the window to the closet. She pulled open the door and reached for a heavy-duty flashlight on the top shelf and set it on the cedar chest. Then she opened the drawer in the end table next to the sofa and found another, smaller flashlight.
“Here,” Wylie said, handing it to the boy. “You push this button here to turn it on. Give it a try.” The boy slid the black switch upward and a beam of light appeared. “Now turn it off. Only turn it on if the lights go out.” He slid the button to the off position. “Stay here,” Wylie ordered. “I’m going to go get the other ones.”
Wylie ran from room to room, grabbing flashlights. On her arrival at the farmhouse, she had stowed several throughout the house for just such an occasion. Wylie had never needed them before, and her pulse quickened at the thought of being plunged into blackness even in a place she knew so well. If there was light, everything would be okay, she thought.
Wylie carried the flashlights back to the boy and dumped them on the sofa. “I’m going upstairs to get some more; I’ll be right back.”
Upon seeing the uncertainty on the boy’s face, Wylie paused. Wylie didn’t want to scare him any more than she already had. The dark was her issue, not his.
“Just a few more, and I’m going to grab some extra batteries,” Wylie said. Snatching one of the flashlights from the pile, Wylie hurried up the steps. She should be more worried about having enough wood for the fireplace. Rationally, Wylie knew that the dark couldn’t really hurt them, but the cold could. Once she had all the flashlights in place, she would get more wood from the barn.
Once upstairs, Wylie went to the room she used as her office. It was where she spent most of her time, so that was where she kept her storm lantern. It could last for a hundred and forty hours on one set of batteries.
Outside, the pop of fracturing tree limbs continued. Wylie watched in awe as an ice-encased limb stretched across her window, swayed and splintered like a toothpick, and crashed to the ground below. Wylie reached into the bottom desk drawer and scooped up several packs of batteries when a glint of orange shone through the storm.
Wylie leaned over her desk, pressing her face to the window to get a better look. The wind sent billowing clouds of snow across the fields. Again, another flash of orange. Was it headlights from a car or maybe an emergency vehicle? Wylie couldn’t tell.