Dee knows before she enters the house something is wrong. The front door is unlocked, and the door to the lab is open.
Gus jumps up to greet them, but she ignores him.
“Dickie?” she hollers.
No answer.
“Where is he?” Janelle asks, walking in behind her.
“Janelle, take Jesse and wait outside.”
“Where’s Dickie?”
“Janelle, go!”
Janelle flinches, then wraps her arm around Jesse’s shoulder and leads him away.
Dee walks into the lab, Gus on her heels. The laptop is open, and the screen shows the same kitchen from before. The house is empty, but she is compelled to stare.
“Everything okay?”
“Janelle, I told you, stay with Jesse!”
“I just—”
“Janelle!”
“Okay.”
“No, wait,” Dee says.
Janelle’s blue eyes brim with tears.
“Take Jesse and go,” Dee says.
“Go? Go where?”
“Home.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll get our stuff.”
“No. I’ll get your stuff.”
“But how will you get back?”
“I’ll figure it out.” Dee’s heart races, and it takes all her will to keep her emotions in check so as not to freak Janelle out any more than she already has. “Please. I need you to take Jesse and go.”
Janelle’s eyes scatter around the lab before she nods and hurries away.
Dee turns back to the screen.
She sits on Dick’s stool at the exact moment the door to the house on the monitor slams open.
Two police officers, a man and a woman, enter in a crouch, their weapons drawn. The woman disappears out of view, down what looks like a hallway, while the man turns left and walks past the camera.
He’s gone only a few seconds before he races back in the direction of his partner.
A minute later, they return together, the man carrying something in his arms.
He sets it on the couch, and Dee’s eyes fill as her fingers go to her mouth. She can only see the back of the boy’s head and his thin shoulders, but she sees he is shirtless, and thoughts of Ed flood her mind as sickness rises in her throat.
The woman officer gently pries what looks like duct tape from the boy’s mouth. The man drapes what looks like a throw over him.
Dee is staring so hard she doesn’t hear the front door open, and only realizes she’s not alone when Gus leaps up. She lifts her face to see Dick in the doorway, his face pale and his nose opening and closing with his breaths.
“Dickie,” she croaks, looking from him to the screen then back again, unable to say more, a lump like a fist lodged in her throat.
He steps up behind her and places a hand on her shoulder, and she places hers over it. Together they watch as more people arrive—paramedics, more police, others in suits and regular clothes. The boy pulls on his clothes that the woman police officer has brought him, and Dee looks back at Dick. He’s in his T-shirt, and his dress shirt is wrapped around his arm.
“You’re hurt,” she says.
He looks down, and only after scanning his body does he seem to notice the makeshift bandage and blood that seeps through the cloth.