Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Movement at the window broke her from her muddled thoughts, and she turned in that direction. A bird had landed on a nearby branch, and before it could lift off, Cami took a photo of it and zoomed in. It had a small head and bill with a topknot of feathers that made her think it was some type of quail. She opened her browser again and did the same type of search she’d just done for the frog, going back and forth between quails on her laptop and the one on her phone.
She finally stopped scrolling at one that looked almost identical and found that it was a California quail, which lived all over California, but primarily in foothill forests.
The bird didn’t narrow things down a lot, but she was now convinced that the cabin they were watching was somewhere in Northern California.
She sat back again and continued to watch the boy sleep, safe for the moment, lost in his dreams. Or, more likely, nightmares.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Cyrus had dreamed of his parents, of the way they’d laughed as his dad made pancakes that were supposed to look like reindeer with bacon antlers, but instead resembled blob-like sea creatures.
That morning, three years before, Cyrus had woken to find that the entire backyard was covered in shimmery white. The dry grass was a sparkling field of icy crystals. The tree branches that sometimes scraped across his window like witches’ fingers were bent toward the ground and dripping with icicles.
Before the pancakes, his mother had burst into his room excitedly and told him to put on his snow gear so they could sled down the back hill. And then his father had helped him build a snowman with rocks for eyes and his 49ers ball cap.
Later that day, they’d headed out to a movie, his mom turning up the volume on the car radio when “Jingle Bell Rock” came on. It was the last thing he remembered before he’d woken in the hospital and been told his parents “didn’t make it.” He hadn’t understood at first. Didn’t make what? But then the nice nurse had held his hand and told him that she was there to help him. She’d told him everything would be okay.
But she’d been wrong.
She’d been very wrong.
Cyrus drained the last bit of water just before he heard footsteps in the other room and then the key in the lock. The man came in holding another greasy bag of food and set it down on the floor with a bottle of water.
He squinched up his ugly face as he collected the bedpan and set it outside the door, and then he picked up a second bag next to the food and dug inside it. “I’m glad you got some sleep,” the man said. “I got you some candy and some playing cards to keep you occupied.” He tossed two chocolate bars on the bed and then held up a deck of cards. “You know how to play solitaire?”
“Any idiot knows how to play solitaire.”
The man let out a chuckle that sounded like it was mixed with a huff, and then he dropped the cards back in the plastic bag and tossed it onto the floor next to the food. “Enjoy.”
“Hey, wait. What if I . . . need something?”
“Like what?” He swept his hand around. “What more could you possibly need?” He laughed, and this one sounded as greasy as the food he’d delivered.
“Like what if I’m hurt or something? Do I knock on the door?”
The man’s eyes narrowed as though he was trying to determine what Cyrus’s angle was. “You can try. Sometimes I’m right out there, and sometimes I sit on the porch. I might hear you, I might not.”
Cyrus nodded. “Okay.” The man was lying, maybe because he wasn’t around as much as he said he was. Cyrus hadn’t heard a car engine start or doors closing, so the man wasn’t parking close to the cabin. Or whatever hellhole this was. But either way, now Cyrus knew for sure there was no one else watching him. Only the nose picker.
“I don’t like my time being wasted. Just read your comics and play your cards and bide your time, you hear me?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, good.” And with that, he pulled the door closed behind him and locked the door.
There was a camera watching him.
That was another thing Cyrus now knew. Because how else would the man know he had slept? The key in the lock was loud, as was the door when it swung open. The bird on the windowsill outside had woken Cyrus, and he’d have definitely heard the door. No, the man hadn’t come in while he’d been asleep. He’d watched him some other way.
Cyrus did a slow walk around the room, pretending to check out his surroundings once more like he’d done yesterday. But this time, his eyes wandered along the top of the wooden walls, and a couple of times he stretched and tipped his head and looked at the ceiling.