ERIC GOLDEN

After leaving Asher’s house, Eric couldn’t bear the idea of sitting alone at home and worrying. He checked that none of the cops were around, then spent an hour in his backyard, cutting dead tree branches into fireplace-sized lengths. Not really part of the job, but his neighbors appreciated the gift of firewood as winter approached, and the tiring work was satisfying. When his muscles said bastante, he cleaned and put away the chopping shears, unlocked his front door, and tripped over two school backpacks.

What were the kids doing home? Bea was supposed to take them back to the hospital with her.

“Marc?” he yelled. “Morgan?”

He grabbed Morgan’s note from the kitchen table and crumpled it in his hand. A walk? She went for a walk today? When there could be a kidnapper out there? What was she thinking? What was Bea thinking, leaving the kids on their own when there was danger on the street?

And Marc, how could the boy let his little sister go? He stormed up to Marc’s room, following the booms of synthetic explosions and pushed open the door with more force than he should have. “You let your sister leave the house? Why didn’t Mom keep you with her?”

Marc didn’t take his eyes off the screen. “Dunno. Ask Mom yourself. Morgan didn’t tell me her plans, so lay off.”

“Any idea where she went?”

“Probably to Aggie’s, as usual,” Marc said, returning his full attention to the battle.

Aggie’s? The hoodie woman from Number Six? What would Morgan be doing with her? How would she even know that woman? Just from the one time she babysat? Hurrying out of the house, he met Morgan running up the front steps.

“Where were you?” he yelled, feeling both furious and relieved. “And don’t lie to me.”