But they have to be. First, because they were here just yesterday. And second, because I still don’t know what to do with Michael and dinner at the house is an hour away.
I pry my wet pants from my leg. It’s no easy feat: they are nearly suctioned to me. The water line is lower than yesterday, but the creek itself is thick and murky. It wouldn’t surprise me if there are leaches under my jeans. But I can’t think about that right now. I need to find Bea, or Jake, and they have simply vanished. Along with the shack and all the junk that litters the property.
“Bea? Jake?” I whisper, as loud as a whispering voice can project. I want to show my respect for their hiding out, but I also want to talk to them. Need to talk to them. Now. Read the rest of this entry