Turning down a new street, Dara’s heart started to pound. A police car had turned down the opposite corner. Now it glided toward her slowly, a silver shark in the night. All at once, Dara went cold. And weirdly, she had to pee. It was like every uncomfortable thing in her body decided to strike at once.
None of the alleys were big enough to drive down. Turning into a driveway would give the cop an excellent view of her and her car. Since she and her car were supposed to be at home, tucked into bed and garage, the last thing she needed was a close encounter with the county sheriff’s department.
Red and blue lights burst to life. They blinded her, and she hit the brakes, right in the middle of the road. The cruiser angled to stop in front of her. A very familiar shadow stepped out of the driver’s seat.
Leaning into her window, Sheriff Porter smiled darkly. “It seems to me I remember grounding you.”
“I can explain.”
“Pull up to that corner and park,” Sheriff Porter said. “I’m taking you home.”
It was always important to know the difference between a setback and defeat. This was definitely the latter, so Dara did as her father told her. Somehow, she suspected it would be a long time before she saw the inside of her car again.
Locking up, she trudged toward her father’s cruiser. “Okay, Daddy, I know you don’t want to hear it, but this is important. I think Cade is out here somewhere . . .”
“No doubt he is,” Sheriff Porter said. He keyed the mic on his shoulder, barking arcane orders at someone on the other end. They responded in kind. As she climbed into her father’s car, Dara regretted never learning all the radio codes.
“You have to find him. I’ve tried, and I haven’t . . .”
“You know more about him than any of us,” Sheriff Porter said. “Where did you look?”
“Everywhere. I’ve been driving around for an hour . . .”
Cutting her a look, Sheriff Porter raised his brows. “Aimless won’t help anybody. Think about it. Anything you didn’t bother to tell me? Put the pieces together.”
“I can’t, I don’t . . .”
“You know how I got here?”
Dara shook her head.
“Bunch of disturbance calls. Started at Sofia’s house, led me right here. Haven’t had one since the one that led me here. That means he came this way, and then quit bothering people. Now what am I missing?”
Scrubbing a hand over her face, Dara shook her head. She didn’t know. If she did, she would have found him already. But if he came this way . . . Dara swallowed hard and looked out the window. There were swings at Clayton Park. And woods, too. A copse of trees, not far from Sofia’s house. If he really did live in Daniel Boone National, then he might have mistaken their town park for the edge of his forest. Hands flapping, she talked so fast, the words spilled out in a rush.
“That makes so much sense. He said . . .”
“What?”
She felt like she was giving up secrets. Sour acid sloshed in her belly. “He said he lived in the forest. That that was his home. So he . . . look, Daddy. The woods. He came here, he thought he was going home!”
Sheriff Porter made a thoughtful sound. Pulling the cruiser over, he left the lights running as he climbed out again. It unnerved Dara, the way he automatically unsnapped his holster. As far as she knew, he’d never fired the gun on duty. Still, he put his hand on it, ready to draw.
Dara rolled out of the passenger side after him. “He’s not dangerous.”
“Get back in the car,” Sheriff Porter said.
Dara zipped her jacket. Summer was coming, but it was still a ways off. Her breath frosted gently in the air. Falling into step with her father, Dara shook her head. “If I’m right, if he’s in there, you’ll scare him.”
“Dara,” he warned, but she refused to listen.
If he wanted her back in the car, he’d have to throw her over his shoulder. Then handcuff her. Then lock her in. He must have realized that, because he took one look at her defiant face, then shook his head. Instead of giving her permission, he let her disobey. Probably so he could hold it against her later.
Walking ahead of Sheriff Porter, Dara followed the path into the woods. The grove wasn’t very big, but it was a good place to drink a beer or smoke a joint without getting caught. Since it was full of poison ivy, it was a terrible place to make out. Every year, a new freshman couple showed up at school with matching rashes. It was hilariously predictable.
“Cade,” Dara called softly.
Something rustled in the distance. It was so dark, she couldn’t place it. It was probably a squirrel anyway. Or a house cat chasing a squirrel. The other end of the path led right into a housing development. It wasn’t much of a woods, to be honest.
“Son, you need to come on out,” Sheriff Porter said.
Whipping around, Dara glared at her dad. “If you think that sounds reassuring, you’re wrong.”
“I’ll send you back to the car,” he replied, arching a brow.
Dara dug her hands into her pockets, pulling her hoodie around her a little tighter. As small as it was, as harmless as it seemed, the pocket of trees scared her so much more than the entire national forest had. It was like this place didn’t belong. It was unnatural, just for existing.
Stop it, Dara told herself. Venturing further down the path, she called again, “Cade, where are you? Everybody’s worried. Come out.”
“Nobody wants to hurt you,” Sheriff Porter called.
“Shhh!”
Dara held up a hand and turned toward a new sound. It might have been a moan, it could have been human. Heart pounding, she took a step off the path. Twigs snatched at her hair and clothes. The underbrush smelled bad, like rotting leaves and something worse. But she was sure that sound wasn’t an animal.
“Cade,” she said. “It’s me. It’s Dara. Where are you?”
After a moment of fearsome silence, a small voice replied.
“Help me.”
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
NINETEEN
Slender branches became whips. They tore at Dara as she crashed through the underbrush. Thorny vines clung to her ankles. But she followed Cade’s faltering voice. It led her through the mazelike jumble of the woods. She didn’t remember it being so frightening in the daylight.
Dara heard her father behind her. His footfalls were heavier than hers. The mic on his shoulder hissed, an electronic snake. Though he ordered her to stop, Dara refused. She didn’t look back—she had to find Cade.
He was a grey smudge. Almost smoky, and if he hadn’t raised his head just then, Dara might have passed him completely.
“Cade!” she cried.
Fighting her way through the brush to him, she dropped to her knees. Even in the low light, she could tell he was pale. His wispy breath clung to charcoal lips. His eyes barely opened. Perhaps sensing her, he turned his head toward her. “You’re bad luck.”
Frantic and overwhelmed, Dara laughed. “I know, right. Come on, you have to get up.”
Cade shook his head. “Can’t walk.”
At the same time, they looked at his outstretched leg. A bandage jutted at an awkward angle from his heel. It definitely didn’t match the shape of a normal foot. Dara wasn’t sure what it was covering, and she was afraid to find out.
Instead, she offered a little black humor. “It’s just a flesh wound. How lazy can you get?”
“Lazier,” he murmured, and burrowed closer to her. “Watch and see.”
A trembling thrill rushed through Dara’s veins. It was something about his voice, about the familiar way he pressed against her. It was like he fit her shape. Like they matched, somehow.
If she wanted proof that she was a terrible person, she had it. What kind of sicko got crushy over a guy in hypothermic shock? She wanted to believe it was concern. Even guilt—he wouldn’t be holed up
in the Clayton Park woods if it weren’t for her.
But guilt and concern didn’t explain how protective she felt. They definitely didn’t excuse the wild, stray thoughts playing in her head. The best way to keep someone warm, her brain helpfully informed her, is to get skin to skin.
Mortified at herself, Dara shucked off her jacket. Fact: she had to warm him up. Secondary fact: she didn’t have to get naked to do it. Especially considering she heard her dad behind her, talking to dispatch. Sirens wailed on the other side of town.
“Here,” she said.
Blanketing him with her jacket, she did her best to tuck it under his back. Then she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
Gentle, she pulled him against her chest. Rubbing his arms, she tried to press warmth into him through her palms. His skin was stiff and cold.
Cade’s lips rasped against her skin. “Have you ever seen an escalator?”
The question jolted Dara out of her thoughts. Knitting her brow, she tried to look down at him. She could only see his hair and the curve of his ear. There was no way to tell if he was joking, or worse, raving. “Lots of times.”
“I’d like to,” he said. Another wave of shudders ripped through him.
“I’ll show you one,” she promised. “Just hang on.”
Cade sighed. His breath slipped into her shirt, shockingly present. Dara felt him clutch and unclutch his fingers beneath the jacket, like he was trying to catch the cold and strangle it.
Turning her head, she saw her father approach. He was a silhouette against the trees. If she hadn’t known it was him, he might have been frightening.
The worst part was realizing his hand rested on his holster. It certainly wasn’t because he was afraid of Dara. No, he was ready to shoot Cade if he had to.
Before he could speak, Dara said, “He’s hurt.”
“I see that,” Sheriff Porter replied. Moving closer, he snapped his holster and crouched before them. With his knuckle, he pushed his hat back so he could get a better look at Cade.
“He’s afraid,” Dara continued. He hadn’t said so, but wasn’t it obvious? “I think he should come home with us.”
Sheriff Porter jerked his head up. “Absolutely not.”
Tightening her arms around Cade, Dara drew strength from deep within. She wasn’t afraid of her father. But she was afraid to let Cade go.
The people at the hospital had proved they couldn’t take care of him. It had been wrong to ask Sofia to step in. No. Cade had saved her life. The least she could do was protect him until he could go home.
“Daddy, please,” she said. “What if it were me? What if I were alone, far away from home? Would you want me in a straitjacket?”
Sheriff Porter frowned. “He wasn’t straitjacketed.”
“Practically,” Dara replied. “He didn’t do anything wrong. You can’t lock him up because he’s confusing. He needs somebody to care about him.”
“That’s what the social worker’s for.”
Bristling, Dara rubbed at Cade’s arms again. “We can’t give the social worker our address?”
“Dara, I’m the sheriff!”
“Yes, you are. You’re supposed to protect people.” Dara looked him right in the eye. Probably, it was wrong to ask him for this. But she was going to ask anyway and he had to see she wasn’t kidding. “He needs to be protected, too.”
The pullout in Dara’s basement was about as perfect as a bed could get, Cade decided. Tucked beneath a thick stack of blankets, he basked in the warmth. Mingling with the heat was the pleasant buzz of painkillers. Those were a gift from the paramedics.
They’d carried him out of the woods. They tried to put him in an ambulance, but he wouldn’t get in. Wouldn’t go back to the hospital. The hospital was a bad place and he was never going back.
He fought so hard that the sheriff stepped in.
With his booming voice, the sheriff directed the paramedics to patch him up. Then he made them pack him into the back of his car. There were lots of promises about following up, and other things Cade couldn’t follow. He didn’t understand any of it.
Cade wasn’t sure he wanted to anyway. As much as he wanted to go home, he knew he couldn’t hunt or forage like this. He used an incredible amount of energy just gathering his daily water. Better to recover in a place where the water came from silvery knobs, and warmth spilled from vents in the walls.
Here, he had the luxury to wonder if his parents had lied to him. The world was full of people, and none of them were sick. The cities weren’t deserted. The doctors weren’t hidden in secluded mountain labs.
Why not? That was the question that kept coming back. Everything they had told him was wrong, and he didn’t know why. Were they lying? Confused? The thoughts made his head ache, and the painkillers only took the edge off his physical pain. Careful of his new bandages, Cade sat up in bed.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Sheriff Porter asked from a dark corner.
Turning toward his voice, Cade said, “Nowhere. Just trying to get comfortable.”
The sheriff replied with a skeptical grunt. He didn’t have to say it out loud, Cade understood perfectly. Sherriff Porter had let Dara talk him into bringing him home, but he wasn’t going to let a stranger stay alone in his basement. Not with his family upstairs, not in a million years.
Lying down again, Cade threw an arm over his eyes. He had to stay on his back, his ankles uncrossed. The position made him uneasy. That’s how he’d buried his father. His father, who’d given him history lessons while they fished. Were all those stories untrue, too?
“Sheriff Porter?” Cade asked.
Flatly, Sheriff Porter said, “Go to sleep, kid.”
Instead, Cade let his arm slip, and his gaze drift across the room. There was a box in the corner—Sofia had called it a TV. Beside that, shelves full of books. Cade had never seen so many. His parents kept a small stack. Treasured them, actually.
Every time they moved camp, Mom wrapped the books in tanned leather. Tying them tight, she tucked them in the bottom of their satchels, to keep them safe and dry. Cade had read them all, probably a hundred times each. He didn’t like The Decameron or A Journal of the Plague Year all that much. They were about misery and illness.
Gulliver’s Travels was better, and he liked Little Women just fine. But he couldn’t help being curious about all the books on these shelves. There were so many more stories in the world than he realized. There was so much more to the world than he realized.
Except for a few creaks, the house was quiet. Locked up tight, sleeping. At least, Cade assumed they were all sleeping. There was a chance Dara lay awake above him, tossing and turning the way he wanted to.
He still smelled her on his skin. In his hair. Trying to picture her face, he couldn’t decide if she stared at the ceiling, or covered her face to invite sleep. His blood stirred. It wouldn’t be hard to find her room. After all, he’d tracked her through the forest back home, by scent alone.
“Go to sleep,” Sheriff Porter said suddenly.
The command startled Cade. It was like the man had read his mind. Or, more likely, was listening to him breathe. Though he longed to ignore Sheriff Porter, to go creeping and find Dara, he closed his eyes instead.
I’ll see her tomorrow, he told himself. She’ll see me tomorrow.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
TWENTY
Between breakfast and the bus, Dara slipped downstairs to see Cade.
It was funny the way his presence transformed the space. It felt different down there, like she was walking into someone else’s house. The hair on her arms prickled, and she suppressed a shiver that had nothing to do with cold.
He sat on the back of the couch, framed by light and curtains from the half window. His hair trailed down his bare shoulders, accentuating the sculpted muscles there. Built like a gymnast, h
is back tapered to a narrow waist and slim hips. Before Dara could consider too much of the rest of him, he turned around.
“Good morning.”
“Hey,” Dara said.
Clasping her hands behind her back, she wandered toward him. He’d left his shape in the pullout bed, the covers rolled like a sleeping bag. It looked like he could slip back into it at any moment, instantly tucked in and comfy. She had no idea why she was thinking about him, or his bed, or—enough, stop.
Shaking her thoughts out, she offered a smile and asked, “Are you hungry? We have pancakes.”
A furrow appeared on Cade’s brow. “I don’t know.”
Teasing gently, Dara said, “You don’t know if you’re hungry, or you don’t know if you want pancakes?”
Shifting on the back of the couch, Cade sank against the wall comfortably. His borrowed pajama pants fit a little too well, in Dara’s opinion. His bandage didn’t do much to ruin her view of his chest, either. Dusted with dark hair, cut like Italian marble, he seemed more naked than most guys did without their shirts. Spreading his good arm against the windowsill, he considered her. “Both.”
Stepping onto the pullout bed, she sat next to him. Not exactly beside him, because she was already off balance. Nevertheless, the couch had never seemed smaller. Bringing her brain back to the topic, she said, “They’re really good, even though Lia made them.”
“What is it?”
Being next to him this morning was so different from last night, when he was so cold and so small. Now he filled the space around him with heat. A hint of wood smoke clung to him, and his eyes were unusually sharp. It was scary how long his lashes were, and she really had to stop staring at him.
“Okay, well,” Dara said, slipping an elastic from her wrist to bind her hair. “It’s bread. Sort of. More like a cake that you fry in a pan. Butter, maple syrup, crazy delicious?”
Wild Page 14
