“My father’s a man of science,” J.R. replies, his voice unnecessarily rude. “He doesn’t have time for religion.”

  Pastor Babel flinches, the smile melting from his lips. “That’s no matter, son. We welcome teenagers from all walks of life to our gatherings.”

  J.R. hooks his arm through mine. “We have to go.”

  The minister glances back at me with a less assuring smile. “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Jackie. In the meantime, you should consider joining us on Saturday.”

  “Thank you,” I call over my shoulder as J.R. yanks me away.

  The second we’re back outside on the warm asphalt parking lot, J.R. releases me and shivers. “That guy’s creepy as hell. He’s way too nice…like Mr. Rogers on Valium. Can you imagine sleeping in the same room as him for that lock-in? He probably does stuff to those kids in their sleep. My old man says the kind of people who are trusted by the public are often the most perverted.”

  I remain silent as we start walking back to my trailer. Pastor Babel has been one of very few adults to ever show me any degree of kindness. But what if J.R. is right?

  J.R. nudges my shoulder. “You don’t have to go back there tomorrow. I can help you get whatever you need for school.”

  “I’m not a charity case,” I snap.

  “I never said you were.” He grips my elbow, pulling me to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. “Look, Jackie. Every week my old man throws a wad of cash at me for groceries. I mostly just eat P and J sandwiches when he’s gone, so I’ve saved up a big chunk of change…you know, just in case.” His eyes slide away and he shrugs. “So don’t worry about it.” His gaze returns to meet mine and he smiles in a way that causes my toes to tingle. “I have enough games for my Atari. It’s not like I’m home to play them anyway. We can swing by Woolworth’s tomorrow. My old man took me there the other day to get my stuff—they had some cool Trapper Keepers.”

  Even though I’m still reluctant to let him buy my supplies, worried my mom would be angry if she discovered I’m taking handouts from a boy, it’s impossible not to skip a little the rest of the way. The idea of having a brand new Trapper Keeper sends a thrill through me like it’s Christmas—the kind normal kids with rich parents get in the movies.

  Like countless times before, Karrie lets us into Skating World through the back door and snags 3 pairs of tan roller skates with orange wheels off the shelves, thrusting them into our arms before we exit through the concession area.

  Even though I usually enjoy skating, I’m mad before our adventure even begins. The skates Karrie gave me hurt my toes, and I don’t like how much J.R. talks to Diane as we’re changing out of our sneakers. I catch Diane looking at him like Bugs Bunny with cartoonish hearts in her eyes. As we start for the rink I consider shoving her.

  “I need some help getting started,” J.R. tells me, gripping my arm as we enter the smooth surface inside the carpeted half-walls. I wish he’d hold my hand instead, like some of the couples already skating. “I’m usually pretty good at this, but my skates are too big.”

  “Sure you are,” I tease.

  His dimpled grin aims in Diane’s direction nearby. “Your sister skates like Dorothy Hamill.”

  I don’t say anything as we start to glide along with the other skaters. We come across a group of little kids skating in all directions, forcing us to split up. Diane stops to talk to a couple of boys she knows from the arcade and J.R. quickly returns to me on wobbling legs. He grabs my hand, making my skin tingle beneath my heart-adorned sweater like a thousand little pin pricks.

  “We should rent something from Blockbuster tonight,” he shouts over the opening riffs of Kool & The Gang’s Celebration. “I think the second Nightmare on Elm Street is out.”

  “We don’t have a VCR.”

  “I can bring mine over.”

  My insides clench as I remember the way his dad struck him the other night. “What about the curfew?”

  As his fingers tighten around mine, his eyes become a little darker. “My old man won’t be around. He left early this morning, said a sixteen-year-old girl from Mankato was reported as missing. She was supposed to be driving back from an overnight visit with her grandparents in some little town called Blue Earth, but never returned home. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s gone all night.”

  A rush of nausea stops me in me in my tracks, causing J.R. to crash into my side. “What’s happening to these girls? Who’s taking them?” I push the sudden visual of Becky’s lifeless body from my thoughts. She can’t be dead. She just can’t. That kind of thing only happens in scary movies. “Why haven’t they found Becky yet?”

  “Maybe she doesn’t want to be found,” he tells me. “Didn’t you say her dad is mean to her?”

  When I think of how crazy Becky’s dad sounded the other night, I wonder if J.R. could be right. Maybe she ran away because she couldn’t be around her dad any longer.

  “One time I was at her house when her dad came home from work early,” I blurt. I’ve never told anyone this story and I’m still not sure I should tell Becky’s secret. But J.R. waits for me to continue, his eyes kind, so I lower my voice. “We heard him banging into things in the yard and swearing, his words all slurry. Becky got really scared and told me we had to hide before he found us. When I asked her why, she said he sometimes makes her do gross things when he’s drunk.” My stomach twists and bends with the memory. “We didn’t have to sit in her closet for long before he started snoring. We snuck past him and went to my place. I was supposed to sleep over at her house for her birthday before she went missing. I know it sounds mean to say, but I’m glad I didn’t have to go back there.”

  J.R.’s expression become serious when he grips my arm. “Jackie, that thing about her dad making her do things isn’t cool. You have to tell my old man what you just said. What if Becky’s dad killed her?”

  I suck in a sharp breath, not sure how I could talk to the kind of man who hurts his own son. What if I say something that makes him angry? And what if Becky’s dad finds out I tattled to a police detective?

  My sister glides in on J.R.’s other side, draping her arm over his shoulder like they’re old friends. “Anyone else notice that weirdo watching us?” She points beyond the rink to where a man around our mom’s age sits alone at one of the party tables. He’s chubby, bald, and his dark eyes bug out from his round face. I don’t like the way he stares us as we glide around the curve. “He looks totally mental,” Diane adds.

  “That guy sold my old man a pair of dress shoes at Brett’s last week,” J.R. tells her. “He’s a little slow, but I don’t think he’d hurt a fly. He’s probably here with his kid. Maybe even a niece or nephew.”

  For the rest of our time at the skating rink, I don’t see the man interact with a single kid. Not only that, he never leaves that table.

  And his creepy eyes are always on either me or Diane every single time we pass.

  6

  STERLING -2018

  Friday evening after running a handful of miles through my new neighborhood, I reluctantly return home. As much as I’ve vowed to stay out of Theo’s way after our awkward exchange the other day, I’ve already unpacked everything that can be stored inside closets and cupboards, and there’s only so much of the humidity I can handle.

  Beth works double shifts all weekend, closing the pub each night, so she’s unable to make any plans. While the atmosphere of the noisy bars we hit the other night made it difficult to bring up Theo or the missing girls, we forged an instant bond that made it clear there would be ample time in the future to pick her brain. Someone has to know something about those girls’ disappearances, even though I spent my lunch hour on the public access computer in the County Court Administrator’s lobby, scouring public records for any mention of it. The Deputy Court Administrator I spoke with was several years younger than myself, and didn’t have any knowledge of past cases beyond what existed in the system.

  My dreams about the girl with strawberry blond hair have become so vivid, it’s like I’m becoming her. I last saw her rollerskating with the boy she has a crush on. I could actually smell a blend of popcorn and cotton candy, feel the sensation of wheels spinning beneath me, feel the boy’s hand around mine.

  I’m approaching the stone path leading to my front door when I notice a navy blue sedan parked two blocks away. I’ve seen the car parked in the neighborhood several times since moving in and assumed it belongs to one of my neighbors. When I realize someone is sitting in the driver’s seat, I lift my hand to wave. The car’s engine fires up and it promptly backs into the nearest driveway, taking off in the opposite direction.

  “Hi to you too,” I murmur, continuing toward my house.

  Inside, I kick off my running shoes and strip out of my ankle socks by the front door. Theo’s interested gaze takes its time sweeping over my peek-a-boo style sports bra and short athletic shorts, warming a little more with every second it lingers. Although I didn’t specifically pick out what to wear with him in mind—I’m always wearing freebies from the April Marie athletic line—I don’t hate the appreciative reaction.

  “Is the air always this thick here?” I ask. “You couldn’t cut it with a samurai sword.”

  “Weather changes from day-to-day,” he grunts, twisting the trowel around in his hand. “Beats the rigid cold when your lungs turn to ice.” He pauses thoughtfully before glancing back my way. “Where you from?”

  “California.” I swipe a hand over my slick forehead. I’d considered Minnesota winters would be cold, but his description of the cold sounds downright unbearable. Guess I’m going to have to invest in some warmer clothes. “Not sure I’m ready for that level of cold,” I grumble.

  He huffs with a curt chuckle before returning his focus to the floor.

  Grabbing two bottles of water from the refrigerator and my iPad from the counter, I set one of the bottles on the floor beside Theo before flinging myself into the only arm chair I brought from California. Although the modern style and blue velvet looks sorely out of place, I only brought it because I figured I’d need something to sit on until I found furniture that perfectly fit the space. “What does everyone around here do for fun?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Theo replies in a clipped tone. “Don’t leave home much except to work or go on hikes.”

  “Why not?”

  He glares up at me as I take a long swig of water. “Are all kids your age this inquisitive?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t spent a lot of time around other people my age. I’ve spent most of my life hanging around older adults.”

  One of his brows lifts. “How much older?”

  “What you really want to know is my age,” I tease with a coy smile. “Admit it.”

  “I know better than to ask a woman her age.”

  I wing a brow back at him. “Are you single?”

  “Now you’re just being nosy.”

  “It’s only fair. You asked mere minutes after we first met.” I take my time crossing my legs and shifting my hips, hoping to appear seductive. The art of flirting has been lost on me after my pointless relationship with Stefan. “Is there a Mrs. Sullen waiting at home with a bunch of miniature versions of you running around?”

  “No.”

  “Grandkids?” I tease.

  “No kids or grandkids,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “Never been married either.”

  Seriously? I decide he either has a commitment phobia, or he literally lives under a rock. There’s no way all the single women in this city are that dense. Aside from being grumpy, he’s hardworking and crazy attractive. I suspect there are far more favorable attributes I have yet to uncover.

  “Are you into guys?” I push. The vibes he’s been emitting since the first time our eyes locked leave no doubt in my mind that he’s straight, but I’m not always the best judge of character. I once believed Stefan would make a great husband.

  Hands held out at his sides, Theo gives me an exaggerated shrug. “I like to keep to myself, alright? Makes life less complicated.”

  “Do you have a problem dating someone a decade younger?”

  A twitch of a smirk passes over his lips. “You think that’s all there is between us?”

  “Who said I’m referring to you and me?”

  He shakes his head repeatedly and smooths a knife over a container of the brown substance. “You remember you’re paying me to fix your house, right? It’s hard to get anything done with you asking so many questions. Don’t you have somewhere better to be?”

  “In this heat?” I drape my legs over the side of the chair and scroll through the apps on my iPad. “I’d rather catch up on my shows. Have you watched the second season of Stranger Things yet? A friend just told me about the series last week, so I’ve been binge-watching as much as I can. It’s insanely good.”

  From the corner of my eye, I catch his gaze briefly flickering to my legs. “Stranger what?”

  “It’s only like the greatest show ever. Takes place back in the eighties. You know, back when you were in your prime.” I figure if I keep needling him, he’s bound to display a little personality…eventually. I hit “play” on the next episode in my queue and crank the volume once the theme song starts. “It’s surprising how much I like your generation’s music, considering you’re so old.” I’m barely able to resist a burst of laughter when I catch the way he’s scowling at the floor. “Or maybe you’re even older than I think. What was popular when you were a kid? Disco? Elvis?”

  The trowel clatters against the floor. When I look up, Theo tosses his hands into the air. “Why are you trying so damn hard to annoy me?” he demands, leaning back on his feet. “What do you want from me, Sterling?”

  “I want you to take me somewhere!” I blurt, my voice raising an entire octave. “A bar, a movie, a museum of twine…I don’t really care where we go. I just don’t want to sit around in this empty house all weekend. My job is super stressful and I need to let off some steam.”

  Amusement lights his dark eyes. “You’re harassing me so I’ll take you on a date?”

  “You’re one of few people I know here other than Carol, and she’s…well…”

  His lips tilt with a smirk. “It’s still a pretty unconventional way to ask a guy out. You could just ask nicely.”

  Electricity ripples through my chest and spreads down my limbs. The blinding urge to kiss the wolfish smirk off his lips hits me out of nowhere. “Will you please take me somewhere tonight? It can be anywhere. I mean, we could hang at the senior citizens’ center, if that’s where you’d be most comfortable.”

  “Don’t push it,” he warns, visibly fighting a deeper smirk. “Let me go home and clean up, then I’ll come back for you. Do you own a swimsuit?”

  “I’m from California, remember?”

  “Wear it with a pair of jeans and sneakers.”

  “Seriously?” I tisk my tongue, realizing when it’s too late that I’m starting to sound like my mother’s clone. “It’s like a hundred degrees out.”

  “Trust me. If you don’t, you’ll regret it.”

  There’s no fighting the broad smile that passes over my lips. If nothing else were to happen between us, I’ll forever be able to gloat in the satisfaction of witnessing Theo Davies doing something other than glowering.

  I must try on a dozen different bikinis before I choose one that’ll be sure to make Theo stop caring about our age gap. The jade green color makes my eyes pop, and the cut gives a provocative yet tasteful preview of the goods. I’m not camera-worthy by any means—another reason I’m grateful to be far away from L.A.—but I inherited my mother’s envious chest and curvy hips. I complete my ensemble with a snug pair of blue jeans and a bright yellow halter top before adding a light application of makeup and curling my hair into soft waves. I’m misting my favorite perfume over my cleavage when I hear the roar of an engine outside.

  By the time I open my front door, Theo is on my front step with a motorcycle helmet tucked under one arm. At least I think the guy in front of me is him. In a tight pair of blue jeans and a white vintage The Cars band t-shirt that highlights every generous muscle in his arms and chest, he’s more irresistible than before. The most incredible part? His beard is neatly trimmed and he’s sporting a crew cut with a considerably longer length on top. He somehow appears both more distinguished and temptingly younger without those longer locks framing his bearded face.

  His intimate stare has the effect of an open flame against my skin when he says, “You look…damn good.”

  I can’t seem to swallow past the tight band in my throat as I blink slowly back at him. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

  Chuckling in the most delicious sound, he fingers his fresh haircut. “Figured it was time for a change. My neighbor’s a beautician. She stopped me on my way home, offered to clean me up.”

  Where did he say he was going that would make his neighbor suggest such a thing? Did he admit he was taking a woman out on a date, or did he tell her he was headed to a babysitting gig? I need to both thank this beautician and check her out to ensure she’s not any kind of competition.

  He thrusts the helmet into my arms. “Ready to ride?”

  All warmth drains from my face when I notice the monster-sized Harley Davidson parked in my driveway behind him. The last time I rode on the back of a motorcycle, I was sixteen and going through a rebellious phase. When my mother’s Hollywood-heartthrob boyfriend had offered me a ride, I didn’t give it a second thought. Now… I swear I can taste the eggs I fried ten hours ago.