Fernanda said, “It is better than freezing to death in our car.”
“Fair point.” The shorter boy let out a rough bark of a cough, covered his mouth, thumped his chest. It sounded like he had something gnarly in his lungs.
Kyla said, “You sick?”
The shorter boy wiped his lips with the back of his hand, rubbed his temples like he had a headache. “Not with anything you can catch.”
“It sounds like we’re all going to be stuck here together for the night.” The taller boy was clearly eager to change the subject.
Kyla said, “Looks that way.”
“Well, I’m Ethan,” the taller boy said. “This is Hunter.”
“Kyla,” she said. “And Fernanda.”
The boy called Hunter frowned. Kyla suspected he didn’t like having his name in the picture. Judging by the way Fernanda twitched, she was probably feeling the same thing.
“For what it’s worth, we’re not the only guests here,” Kyla said. “Whoever drives that Range Rover is staying in the room next to us.”
Hunter said, “Five guests in one night? No wonder the twins forgot your towels. This is probably the busiest they’ve been in years.”
Ethan said, “That Rover doesn’t belong to the twins?”
Kyla said, “I doubt it. Room four is definitely occupied. The twins mentioned it when we got here.”
Ethan frowned deeper. “So where’stheircar? There’s no way the twins could survive way out here without a vehicle.”
Hunter said, “Maybe they have it parked at the old house out back. Right along with their horse and buggy.”
Despite the warmth of the fire, Ethan and Kyla both shivered at the same exact time. Kyla didn’t know why, but the thought ofgoing anywhere near that old house filled her with a dread she could neither name nor explain.
What was taking the twins so long with those towels?
A creak from the porch outside dragged them all from their thoughts. A woman in her late thirties stepped into the office. She had olive skin and very black hair tied up in a ponytail. She wore the kind of comfortable outerwear a well-off traveler would take on a camping trip: tall brown leather riding boots, gray cashmere sweater, black vest trimmed with fox fur. A camera hung around her neck. It looked expensive.
A large knife in a leather sheath rode on the woman’s hip.
At the sight of the woman, Kyla had to clench her jaw, otherwise it would have fallen open in shock.What are the fucking odds?She knew this chick. The woman’s name was Sarah Powers, and she’d lately become great friends with none other than Frank O’Shea, the great and the terrible.
This could be bad. This could be very bad.
For her part, Sarah Powers showed no sign of recognizing Kyla (thank God). The woman turned a polite smile on them all. “Afternoon. Y’all out of gas too?”
Only Ethan replied. With a slow nod, he said, “That’s your Rover?”
“It is. I can’t believe I ran dry. I thought I’d left Stockton with a full tank.”
Kyla turned away, looking at Fernanda, wondering if maybe they should forget about the towels and get back to their room. Fernanda, for her part, seemed unbothered, which made sense. She would have never met Sarah Powers, seeing as Sarah had only ever come to the steakhouse. In all the time she’d lived in America, Fernanda had never been allowed to leave Frank’shouse.
Sarah Powers herself still showed no interest in either of the girls. She took a few steps toward the coffee maker in the corner of the office, rubbing her hands like everyone else, only to hesitate mid-step when she neared Ethan. She looked at the boy, looked at him again.
“I’m sorry,” Sarah said. “But is your last name Cross?”
Ethan went stiff, his eyes widening in surprise. A few steps behindSarah, still standing at the desk, Hunter’s face tightened, and he eased a hand behind his back. Kyla had spent enough time serving steaks to men like this to know what that meant.
Hunter was reaching for a gun.
Sarah Powers noticed none of this. Staring at Ethan with an expression of mounting surprise, she said, “This is going to sound crazy, but I think I knew your mother.”
