was that small structure just ahead. Tipping drunkenly into a maple tree, it could have just been an old shed.
A dirt road veered off into the trees a dozen yards past the rickety building, but there were no street signs or mailboxes anywhere. In fact, she hadn’t seen signs of life for the past five miles.
“Okay, sport,” she said after stopping the car. “Is this where we turn?”
Keifer slumped lower in his seat. “Maybe.”
“We’ve come the right way so far?”
He craned his neck to peer out the window and shrugged.
“You’ve never been here?” Surprised, she turned to look at him.
“It was dark when I got here last night,” he said defensively. “And we were going the other direction this morning. I don’t remember from last year.”
Last year? What kind of dad only saw his son once a year? Her opinion of Ethan Matthews dropped. “That’s okay. We’ll figure it out.” She drummed her fingernails on the steering wheel, considering. “What do you think—should we take a chance on this little road?”
“I guess. I just remember it was kinda muddy.”
A description that fit the farm lane quite well from what she could see after they made the turn. Leaning forward to see ahead better, she negotiated the ruts and bumps of the first mile, then breathed a sigh of relief as the road started to climb.
The tumbledown house off to the left might be the Peters place Ethan had mentioned. And ahead…
“Is that it?” She pointed across a shallow valley to fenced pasture. Beyond that lay a collection of buildings nearly hidden by a grove of trees.
Keifer straightened in his seat to see over the dash. “There’s Buddy, Dad’s horse. The cows are prob’ly over the hill. And the goats—”
“The goats?”
“Three. They’re probably in the garden.”
“I’ll bet your dad wants them in there,” Abby said dryly.
“Not really, but he can’t make them stay out,” Keifer announced with relish, his mouth curved in a faint, smug smile. “They can get out of anything, he says. Baxter’s real mean.”
As she drove down the next slope, the mud grew deeper, grabbing at the tires and pulling the vehicle to one side. An ominous stretch of deeply rutted road lay between them and the Matthews place ahead.
She debated briefly, then gunned the motor and held the steering wheel in a death grip as the car shot forward. Halfway there. Three quarters…
The vehicle slowed as it sank deeper and deeper until it mired down with its wheels spinning uselessly and mud flying into the air behind them.
“Shoulda taken the truck,” Keifer observed, darting an I-told-you-so look at her.
“We might still be all right. Don’t worry just yet.” Abby unbuckled her seat belt and opened her door. The car was buried to its frame. “Okay. Now we can worry.”
The bright afternoon sunshine had gradually disappeared behind clouds during the past half hour. Her cell phone reception was mostly just static.
And the only towing service in the area was back at Blackberry Hill, though she’d overheard a disgruntled nurse complain that the owner often quit early and went fishing.
And she was almost sure she’d seen a truck emblazoned with Mel’s Towing ahead of her car as she’d driven out of town.
SOMEWHERE BETWEEN the car and the next dry stretch of road, Keifer lost a tennis shoe in the mud and Abby realized her taupe slacks and loafers were a total loss.
By the time she and the boy trudged up the last hill—which was much farther away than it had appeared from the other side—and reached the Matthewses’ mailbox, thunder echoed through the dark sky and bolts of lightning shook the ground beneath their feet.
“Run, Keifer!” Abby shouted over the rising wind. “I’ve got a key for the house.”
“Dad doesn’t lock it anyway!” he shouted back to her.
Even minus a shoe, he raced up the long driveway and reached the covered porch well before she did.
Soaked and shivering, she joined him at the log house and stared out at the deluge. “Well, this is certainly an adventure,” she said, wishing she dared put a comforting arm around his thin shoulders. “But at least we got here, right?”
He must have sensed her thoughts, because he pointedly moved a few yards away. He looked down at his muddied sock and some of his tough-kid veneer slipped away. “Mom is gonna kill me when she hears about my shoe.”
“Surely that won’t be a big deal. Not when she hears the whole story, right?”
When he didn’t answer, she grinned at him. “Anyway, you’re here with your dad for the summer. I’m sure he’ll get you another pair if we can’t find it.”
“I guess.”
“I suppose we’d better go inside, don’t you think? You can put on some dry clothes, and I’ll call for a tow truck. Then you can tell me about the animals we should feed while we wait for help.”
She followed Keifer to the end of the wrap-a-round porch, where a side door led into the kitchen. It felt strange walking into Ethan Matthews’s house with him away.
Several bloodied towels still lay on the counter by the sink, a macabre reminder of Ethan’s accident earlier in the day. She quickly filled the double sinks with cold water and put the towels in to soak while Keifer changed upstairs.
By the time he returned, she’d mopped up the rest of the evidence of Ethan’s injury and had left a message for the towing service. “I should call the sheriff and let him know about the road hazard, too. I’d hate to have anyone rear-end my car in the dark.”
“No one lives back here but Dad,” Keifer said as he rummaged in the cookie jar on the counter.
Now, there was an eerie thought, with a storm rumbling overhead and the kitchen lights flickering. “No one?”
“The road dead-ends just over the hill, so no one ever comes out this far, Dad says. That’s why I can ride his horse all over and he doesn’t worry.”
“Oh.” Feeling a sudden chill, she rubbed her upper arms. “So he doesn’t have any neighbors?”
“He doesn’t want neighbors.”
Well, that certainly fit her impression of the man. A stubborn recluse, who clearly resented any sort of interference from others—even with a serious injury to contend with. Abby suddenly felt very sorry for Keifer, who faced an entire summer in such isolation. “So…we’re entirely alone, then.”
“Yeah.” Keifer didn’t look too concerned. “Dad likes it because—”
He
