“I know your parents neglected you.”
She stiffens slightly.
“But did they ever hurt you?” I ask it gently even though the thought of anyone putting their hands on Zoey makes my blood reach lava levels.
“No.” She shakes her head. “I mean, they put us in sketchy situations with sketchy people sometimes.”
I lead her around a decrepit ‘test your strength’ machine and deeper into the rusty machinery and abandoned rides. “Did any of them hurt you?”
“No. Well, I mean one of them tried something with me. I was too young to really remember it, but Xanny told me about it. She stopped him, and he ended up bloody. She cut him pretty bad with a kitchen knife. But no one called the cops, of course. They’d never do that. My parents moved us to someone else’s house after that, but they always blamed her for messing up their ‘situation’ at that place.”
I say a silent prayer of thanks for Xanny. “She sounds like a good sister.”
“She really is.” She squeezes my arm. “We’re so different, but we always take care of each other.”
Something skitters across the ground to our right. Thankfully, Zoey doesn’t seem to notice the pair of large rats that seem to have made a large trash barrel their home.
“This is it. Up here.” I spy the lock boxes up ahead, their position still the same as it was in the photo.
Zoey quickens her steps until she’s practically running.
We skid to a stop in front of the small metal bank.
Zoey lets out a disappointed groan when she realizes every single box has been busted open. None of them have a lock left.
“Oh no.” She stares, her eyes welling. “They’re all empty. Someone stole whatever she left here.”
“Hang on.” I pull a flashlight from my pocket, the waning light not enough to get a clear view. When I click it on, I train it on one box after another.
Zoey’s right. They’re empty.
I click the light off, but then see a faint scratch mark on one of them. Clicking the light back on, I lean down and peer at it.
“Do you see this? It’s an X scratched into the edge here.” I show Zoey.
She leans down, too. “It’s Xanny’s mark!”
I push the creaky door to the corresponding box all the way open and train my light on the inside.
“Look!” Zoey points. “In the back. It’s like the metal is sort of–”
“Different.” I reach in and tap on it. “It’s a false back.” Shoving against one corner, I pop the back panel loose and pull it free.
“It’s just cardboard covered with aluminum foil.” Zoey smiles to herself. “Xanny, you’re too smart for your own good. She must’ve done this more recently.” She chews her bottom lip and bends down again. “What’s in there?”
I grab a small black box, the front of it secured with a combination lock. “I’m not sure what–” I stop.
“What?” Zoey looks at me.
I turn around and listen, then scoot Zoey behind me.
“What?” she whispers, her voice edging higher.
“Lenny hasn’t checked in.” The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and I pull my gun before I even hear the first shot.
But it comes soon after.