A car door slammed, and a flurry of sensations skittered through my chest. I hurried to my window, looking down through the gauzy curtains. But it wasn’t Holt’s silver truck in the driveway. Instead, I saw a familiar SUV—a newish one that already had a slew of dents.
My gut tightened as Randy Sullivan and Paul Matthews climbed out. What were they doing here? I quickly glanced around the street, mentally assessing if they’d somehow ended up at the wrong house. If it were after dark, I’d guess they were here to toilet paper my house—because tripping me in the halls and mocking me in class apparently weren’t enough.
Their laughter had me returning my focus to them. Paul lifted his hand, thumb and forefinger making the shape of a gun as he pointed it at my window. A chill skated down my spine.
Randy laughed and jogged up the steps, ringing the bell.
The sound echoed through my quiet house. But I didn’t move.
The bell rang again.
“Wren,” Randy singsonged. “Come on down.”
Something about his voice had always grated against my skin and set my nerves on edge. My grandma always said we had intuition for a reason, and we were fools if we didn’t listen to it. So, I stayed exactly where I was.
As they continued pressing the bell, I could just make out the two boys. A grade ahead of me, they looked just like the rest of the kids in our high school: T-shirts and jeans, hair a little bit askew. But there was cruelty in them. There always had been.
I wasn’t the only person they picked on, but it was always those physically weaker than they were. Maybe because they’d been given such a hard time in middle school. Maybe that meanness was just in them. Whatever the reason, I gave them a wide berth whenever I could.
“Maybe she isn’t home,” Paul said, looking through the side window.
Randy shook his head. “Car’s here.”
“So she’s out with Holt.”
Randy pointed at the lights illuminating the dining room and kitchen. “She’s home. Bet lover boy will be here any minute.”
An ugly smile twisted Paul’s lips. “What’s wrong, Wren?” he called. “Don’t want to see us?”
“Oh, she’ll see us,” Randy shot back. His hand slipped under his T-shirt, fingers closing around something I couldn’t quite make out as he pulled it from his waistband.
My mind put together the individual pieces before the whole picture. Black handle gripped tightly in Randy’s fingers, silver barrel glinting in the low light. A gun.
A buzzing started in my ears. It wasn’t that I’d never seen a gun before. Our town was far off the beaten path in Eastern Washington, nestled between mountains that meant reaching Cedar Ridge by car in winter was sometimes impossible. We hadbears, cougars, and coyotes. Shotguns and rifles were typical, especially for folks farther out.
But I didn’t think I’d ever seen a handgun before, and certainly not in the grasp of a classmate on my doorstep.
Paul laughed and pulled a gun from his waistband, as well. “Did you try the door? It’s probably unlocked.”
It was true that most residents around town didn’t concern themselves with that sort of thing. But I could always hear Holt’s voice in my head.“Want to hear that lock click.”
He hated that my parents left me alone so much. Had drilled it into my head time and again to check all the doors and windows before going to bed. Over time, it had become a habit. A compulsion. I locked every door after I entered. Drove Grae crazy that she couldn’t waltz right in—until I’d eventually given her a key.
My heart hammered against my ribs as my fingers skittered across my phone’s screen. It took four tries to hit those three little numbers. Nine. One. One.
“Cedar Ridge police, fire, and medical. What’s your emergency?”
“T-there are two guys trying to get into my house. They have guns,” I whispered.
“Damn. It’s locked.” I heard Randy mutter.
Paul sighed and bent over, searching the stoop. “There has to be a key hidden somewhere.”
“Who am I speaking to, and where are you located?”
“Wren Williams.” I rattled off my address.
“Wren, it’s Abel. I’m gonna get you some help. You just stick with me. Are you somewhere safe?”