Chapter Forty-six

NOTHING BUT SILENCE—WE didn’t move.

“Has he been shot? Is he dead?” Dean asked the same questions that popped into my mind.

We were frozen there in the hallway. If my dad had been shot, where were Rick and Tracy? Why hadn’t the police shown up? Why were we in there alone?

Then the silent house filled with the sound of gruff and breathy laughter. The slumped figure pulled himself to his feet as if he were a puppet working on strings.

There stood my psychotic father, a toothy smile on his face as if he’d just risen from the dead.

When he spoke, his mouth didn’t move. I could hear the words in my head. He just looked at us with those bulging, bloodshot eyes, as if to pierce us with them. Welcome home, boys.

Dean looked at me. His expression told me he was hearing the voice in his head too. Quickly, Dean leveled the gun at him. “Where are my parents?” he yelled, the flashlight shaking.

Again came Dad’s voice, but with the smile still cemented in place. They’re alive, if that’s what you mean, Dean.

“How do you know his name?” I shouted.

Another wispy laugh.

I know all their names. He let the last “S” sound stretch out like the hiss of a snake.

“Wha … what do you want?” I struggled to get out.

A moment of silenced passed. The hallway between us felt like it was tilting on some wayward axis. Dad’s arm stretched his finger, flicking like a dagger out at me.

Just you.

Still holding both the gun and flashlight on Dad, Dean stepped in front of me.

“You’re going to have to go through me.”

Dean stood tall in defiance.

Easy, Dad said, and with another fluid gesture of his finger, Dean was lifted off his feet and his back was pinned against the wall, his arms spread and feet dangling. He yelled in pain as his body hit with a boom that shook the house.

The gun and flashlight dropped to the ground, but a beam still shot out at Dad’s feet as they stepped—no, almost floated—toward me.

“Dean!” I grabbed at his kicking legs and pulled, but he wouldn’t move. It was like his upper body was magnetized to the wall. Realizing that wasn’t going to work, I bent down and retrieved the revolver.

Dad’s hand still reached out as he spoke again. You, Nolan, possess a very powerful gift. The letter “F” was held this time, and it made him sound like he was air leaking from a tire.

I was stone silent. I didn’t know what to do. My veins pumped hard and fast as my thoughts grasped at a million possibilities. One kept come back over and over inside my head.

Kate had been right. There was no more time to think. I need to act. I raised the gun and fired twice.