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skin.

Perhaps Blakeā€™s rightā€”maybe itā€™s a completely isolated event. It seems that way so far, at any rate.

All I know is, when this is all over, Iā€™ll need to do some heavy-duty chakra clearingā€¦

A couple of blocks away from the eighties-style houseā€”or maybe itā€™s a cabin, Blake slows the vehicle down to a normal speed. His facial expressions flits back and forth, as he works out exactly how to go about things. I watch him, enthralled despite myself. Ordinarily, in this close proximity, Iā€™d be hearing snippets of everythingā€”unless I specifically warded my own mind from the barrage.

Finally, he parks the car in the driveway and cuts the lights.

ā€œYou sure thisā€™s the place?ā€ he asks, turning back to me.

In the light of the waxing moon, the house stands nearly silent. Only a single sign of life inside is evident; the television set in the living room as it flickers with the commotion of whatever the manā€™s watching. Heā€™s on the edge of drifting off to sleep; cheap whiskey the culprit at this early hour. My eyes flit to the clockā€”itā€™s just barely gone 9:00pm.

I nod, taking a deep breath.

ā€œAlrightā€”stay here. Trust me, Iā€™ve got this covered,ā€ Blake says. ā€œItā€™s not my first rodeo.ā€

Before he can exit the Rover, glimpses of the Esther asleep inside the cabin flood in. Sheā€™s clutching a tattered teddy bearā€”itā€™s not hers, but it reminds her of home. The puppy is curled up beside her. The space is tinyā€”but the sound of the TV creeps into the small enclosure in muffled bursts.

ā€œBlake,ā€ I call out before the door closes.

ā€œYeah?ā€ he says, twisting to look inside the vehicle.

ā€œSheā€™s in thereā€”in a small room. Maybe a closet?ā€

His lips press into a thin line, and he nods. ā€œSheā€™s okay, though. Right? Alive?ā€

I nod.

With a tip of his head, Blake closes the door and saunters up to the front entry. Despite myself, Iā€™m mesmerized by his walk.

Damn, those jeans definitely suit him.

I run my hands over my face and close my eyes.

Get a grip, Diana. This is the same jerk who pushed you into the puddle and stormed your house.

Blake knocks on the door, and after a moment, a light flicks on in the entryway. A second or two later, an older manā€”nearly seventy by the looks of itā€”opens the door. His grey hair is matted against his forehead, and he looks as though he hasnā€™t changed his dirty grey shirt in days.

The manā€™s got a gun stashed nearby and isnā€™t too keen on strangers. Especially ones who knock on his door as night is falling. Especially pickup nights.

Reaching for the handle of the Rover, I pull up short. Something must have been said to appease the manā€™s initial skepticism, because he opens the door wider and letā€™s Blake inside. He doesnā€™t look back my way at all, just waltzes straight in.

The moment the front door is closed, mine is open, and Iā€™m on my feet.

I donā€™t care how much this Blake guy thinks he has this under controlā€”Iā€™m not about to sit this one out. A little girlā€™s life depends on it.

4

FOLLOWING MY INTERNAL GUIDANCE, I creep from the Range Rover to the back side of the house. With Blake occupying the creep inside, I should be able to slip in and out with Esther relatively easily. In fact, Iā€™d wager itā€™ll be done way faster than Blake trying to fumble around in whatever manhandling kinda way heā€™s used to.

Thanks to Blakeā€™s stunt earlier on his own front door, I check the handle on the back doorā€”finding it unlocked. Images of sleeping children with pillowcases placed over their heads barrage my mind, but I push past them and shut their assault down. There will be time to deal, and make this monster suffer. Justā€¦not yet.

Holding my breath, I slip quietly inside.

After all of these years, one thing Iā€™ve learned to do well is sneak about unnoticed. Call it another one of my gifts, if you want.

The stench of alcohol and decomposing food assaults my senses as I enter the kitchen. Certainly a stark contrast to the outside appearance. Pieces of the laminated floor are missing, and others are peeling up in large chunks. It doesnā€™t look as though anything has been cleaned for years. Beyond the grungy kitchen, Blake and the man are discussing something in hushed voices.

I try to reach out, to get a better idea of his plan, as well as try to anticipate their next movements. Unfortunately, whatever block I have with Blake influences everything going on in the other room.

Talk about inconvenient.

Training my ears their direction, my eyes flit from wall to wall as I search for the hidden doorway from my vision. Rather than focusing on the men, I take a moment, trying to train my senses on Estherā€”using her as a needle; telling me whether or not Iā€™m getting close.

I close my eyes and broaden my awareness so it blankets the houseā€”searching each crevice and corner. It settles on the wall in the main hallway, separating the living room from the rest of the house with a large staircase. Sheā€™s under the stairs. Of course, heā€™s kept her close.

I tiptoe closer, scanning the wall on this side of the hallway for the hidden doorwayā€”but itā€™s no use. Iā€™m pretty sure itā€™s on the other sideā€”where, of course, the men are.

ā€œThere are a lot of crazies out this way, to be sure,ā€ Blakeā€™s voice filters to my ears. ā€œGlad to hear youā€™re staying safe.ā€

ā€œYeah, I dunno about none oā€™ that, but I ā€˜preciate ya stompingā€”er, stopping in,ā€ the man says, his words garbled and slurred.

A small scuffle shudders through the hall as someone gets out of a chair in the other room.

ā€œMind if I use your bathroom quick? Gotta take a piss,ā€ Blake says.

I take a step closer. If the man shows him where the bathroom is, maybeā€”just maybeā€”Iā€™ll have access to the living room long enough to get Esther out.

ā€œDo what ya gotta do. Sā€™down the hall on the

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