Lost Souls by J. Bishop (the giving tree read aloud txt) 📗

“Because Lydia pointed toward it. If Mason drove here, then I suspect they put his car inside the barn to hide it, which likely means he may be in there, too. It needs to be checked and cleared. If you get there and find nothing, head to the house.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to find Lydia, and hope I can either subdue her or get her to see reason before Bradley returns. Once we take care of Lydia, then we’ll go after Bradley.”

“What about Mikey? Where is she?”

Trick sighed. “I’m not sure. Which is why we need to move fast.” He raised up and leaned over to stay hidden. “You ready?”

Valerie nodded. “I’ll see you at the house. You be careful.”

“You too, Miss Vain.”

Valerie took off through the brush toward the barn, and Trick headed in the opposite direction. Moving quickly and dodging roots and branches, she came up beside the barn and squatted again, waiting and listening. Nothing moved, and she jumped up and ran toward the side wall and plastered herself against it. Moving cautiously, she peered around it and could see the front of the house, but there was no sign of Trick or Lydia. Everything was quiet.

Sliding around the corner, her gun down, she stuck close to the wooden slats and approached the entry. She reached out and grasped the rusty handle and pulled. It opened enough for her to glance inside, and she saw tufts of hay, stacks of bags that looked like dirt or maybe fertilizer, a few stalls that may have, at one time, housed horses, and Mason’s car parked carefully between the stalls. Having followed him when she’d begun her investigation, she knew it was his vehicle. Taking a last look at the house, she pulled the door wider and slipped inside the barn.

**

Careful to stay low and not be seen, Trick crept as far back into the trees as he could while making his way toward the rear of the house. Once there, he saw a vegetable garden, an old tire swing hanging from a branch, and a small back porch leading to a ripped screen door. Taking a second to double-check the area, he stepped out and sprinted into the vegetable garden, landing on his knees and ducking down.

Peering up, he checked the back windows of the house, but seeing no movement, he took a breath and dashed up to the back wall, pressing his back against it. He slowly moved up to a window, ducked below it, and glanced quickly inside, but all he could see was furniture and bookshelves. Staying down, he darted to the other side of the window, straightened, and sliding sideways, neared the screen door. He hooked a finger into the latch and slowly pulled. It squeaked and he stopped, listening, and then pulled again. It squeaked again, and he held back. Continuing the delicate balance of trying to open it without alerting Lydia, he finally had it wide enough that he could fit through and try the knob.

This is where he would be the most vulnerable. If Lydia was waiting for him, he’d have no escape plan. He’d have to hope she’d hold fire long enough for him to start talking. He had no doubt she’d be armed.

Letting go of his held breath, he turned the knob and the door opened. Gently, he pushed it wider and swiveled, looking around the frame. Relief bloomed when he didn’t see anyone, and pushing the door farther, he stepped inside.

**

Valerie held her weapon low and down, and approached the back of the car, hearing only the crunch of the dirt beneath her heels and her heavy breathing. Stopping at the trunk, she peered into the back seat, but saw nothing. Coming around to the side, she kept an eye on the stalls, but they were empty. The barn smelled of hay, rotting wood, and the lingering scent of manure. Trying the driver’s side door, she stayed alert and popped it open. Leaning down, she checked inside, but saw nothing out of place. It was clean and tidy.

Retreating, she straightened and moved to a stall, checked it and moved on to the next. The barn was unoccupied, and after checking the last stall, she began to head toward the door when she heard a thump.

Swiveling fast, she aimed her weapon, her heart thudding, and her breathing escalating. The thump came again, and she squinted. Taking a couple of steps, she cursed herself for her stupidity. The trunk. Someone was in Mason’s trunk.

The thump banged harder, and she walked up on the rear of the car, holding her gun, and backed up to the driver’s door. Taking a shaky breath, and keeping her gun leveled at the trunk, she pulled the door wide, leaned over and popped the trunk. It lifted and moving fast, she came around and aimed her weapon toward the inside. “Don’t move,” she yelled, then stopped cold when she saw Mason Redstone lying inside, his face pale, and his shirt covered in blood.

**

Trick stepped softly into the kitchen, every nerve ending on alert to the sound of anyone’s approach. The house remained eerily quiet though, and he slowly pushed the door closed. Staying close to the wall, he surveyed the kitchen, seeing dishes, two mugs in the sink, and crumbs on the breakfast table. Trying to stay relaxed, but failing, he took a few steps and peered into an empty laundry room, then quickly passed it and stopped just outside the entry to the main room. If he was to guess, Lydia would be frantically packing, preparing to leave, and he hoped he could surprise and restrain her before she could fight back. He spied a block of knives and debated taking one, but it would be useless in a gunfight, and he had no desire to stab Lydia. If he could get close enough to injure her, then he’d be close enough to take her gun and subdue her.

Sliding to the edge