Chapter 9

9

August 2000

Josie lay in the dark, her muscles tense, waiting for the next outburst of anger between her parents and Ethan. Instead came the usual sounds of the house at bedtime—the groan of pipes and running water, the flush of a toilet, the squeak of bedsprings. And finally, silence.

"Are you awake?" Becky whispered.

"Yeah," Josie answered. She lifted her head and looked at the clock on the bedside table. 12:07. "I can't sleep," she said. The argument between her brother and parents made her feel sick. More so than usual. Her stomach swayed.

"Come on," Becky whispered, getting to her feet.

"Where are we going?" Josie asked.

"Shhh," Becky answered. She slowly opened the bedroom door and peered into the darkened hallway. All was quiet. The girls tiptoed to the staircase, covering their mouths to stifle any laughter.

This would be the most difficult part of sneaking out. The maneuvering down the stairs without alerting the entire house of their antics. Each step had its own tone and timbre when touched—a squeak, a sigh, a groan. Finally, they just held their breath and scurried down the steps. At the bottom, Josie and Becky stood, hearts racing, waiting for someone to come to the top of the stairs and order them back to bed.

The remainder of their escape was easy—through the kitchen, into the mudroom and out the back door. The Doyles never bothered to lock their doors. Why would they? They knew their neighbors, were miles from town, and had nothing of real value to steal.

The wind had died down, and while still hot, the air smelled sweetly of clover. The sky was brightly lit by the moon and from stars set deep into the black sky.

"What are we doing?" Becky whispered as Josie led her to the trampoline and together they scrambled up. They held hands, the ones they scored with a paring knife when they were ten so they could be blood sisters, and began to bounce.

"Sisters forever," Josie called out as they jumped higher and higher until the rest of the world fell away. The air was humid and velvety against their skin. Sweat slid down their temples and into their eyes, but still they jumped, the rhythmic thump, thump of their feet hitting the rubber of the trampoline filled their ears like a heartbeat.

"I can almost grab them," Becky cried, lifting her free hand toward the sky.

Josie pressed her lips together to keep her laughter inside, but she'd never felt so free as she did in that moment, soaring into the air, the fingers of her left hand interlocked with her best friend's, the fingers of her right hand extended to the sky. The stars felt so close. Like a pile of jacks to be scooped up in her palm. A fistful of stars. In that moment, such a thing didn't seem impossible.

Josie and Becky leaped and snatched at the sky until their breath came in hitches and they could no longer keep the laughter tucked inside. They collapsed to the floor of the trampoline and lay on their backs sweaty and out of breath until the world stopped swaying. "How many did you get?" Josie asked, glancing at Becky's left hand still clasped tightly shut.

She brought her fist to her eye as if peeking inside. "A million," she whispered. "How about you?"

"A million and one," Josie said because she always had to win. It was as if they were little again when nothing mattered except for that very moment when being with your best friend was enough. There were no worries about boys and family arguments and growing up. Josie smiled and let the easiness of it all flow over her.

A popping sound interrupted their stargazing and Becky sat up on one elbow. "What's that?" Becky asked.

"I'm not sure," Josie said uneasily. They scanned the farmyard. Everything was still. The goats were snug within the confines of the barn, the hens perched inside their coop.

"Probably just a truck backfiring." Josie brushed away her concern and lay back down.

Another pop rang out and this time, Josie recognized it. Living out in the country, living with hunters, Josie knew the sound intimately. Gunfire.

This was the only thing that made sense to Josie, so instead of running away from the noise, she was drawn toward it. She crawled over the side of the trampoline and dropped to the earth below. "What's going on?" Becky asked, following close behind. A cloud eased in front of the moon and the light curdled behind it leaving the girls in darkness.

"Maybe someone is shooting at a fox or coyote," Josie said, but even as the words left her mouth, she knew that wasn't likely. An uneasiness settled into her chest. Her dad wouldn't shoot blindly into the dark like that. Besides, the blast sounded a little muffled, too far away. Maybe it was the neighbor a mile down the road. Sound carried out in the country.

"Let's go back inside," Josie said. The carefree feeling of earlier was gone, and the girls moved toward the house, hobbling over the rocky earth on their bare feet. From the barn, the noise had woken the goats. They bleated anxiously. Josie could hear their restless pacing in the barn.

A third blast came just as they rounded the barn. A brief flare of light filled her parents' window like the flash of a camera. Then silence. Next to Josie, Becky cried out.

Josie thought of her brother and his anger and the sly, mean way he looked at their father earlier, the way he refused to hand over his shotgun. No, Josie told herself. Ethan would never do this.

Three more explosions came from within the house—one after the other. Becky covered her ears with her hands and screamed. Josie grabbed Becky's hand and led her to the barn door. Josie tried to open the door but it was too heavy and worn from age. The bottom edge dragged slowly against the ground and got caught. She lifted the handle and yanked harder and the door squeaked open a fraction before getting stuck again. "Hurry!" Becky scrabbled at Josie's arm.

There were dozens of hiding places in the barn: the hayloft, the goat stalls, behind a pile of lumber. Josie wedged through the door and was plunged into darkness and immediately understood she made a mistake. The goats, startled by her entrance, began to stir with an alarming cascade of bleats. Within the splintered walls of the barn they would have nowhere to go. They would be trapped. Josie quickly squirmed back out. "We can't hide in here," Josie whispered.

Josie looked around frantically. They needed a phone, but Josie was too afraid to go into the house. Her grandparents were a mile away. The cornfield. They could move through the cornfield and it would eventually lead to her grandparents' house. They would know what to do. In the shadows, the stalks of corn stood tall, like gangly sentries.

Did they dare? One of Josie's earliest memories was of her mother scolding her not to go into the fields alone. "You'll get lost in there and we'll never, ever find you," she warned. For a long time, her mother's warnings worked, but as time passed, the more daring Josie became, and venturing into the corn was a common occurrence.

A dark figure emerged from the house. Josie couldn't tell who it was but the shotgun in his hand was unmistakable. Like a wolf, he walked slowly, methodically toward them.

Josie reached for Becky's hand and they started running, their bare feet pounding against the ground, sharp rocks and twigs pierced the soles of her feet, but Josie barely noticed. Next to her, Becky's breath came in frantic hitches.

If they could make it to the corn, Josie was confident that they would be okay.

"Josie," came a male voice. Had she heard right? Had someone called her name? She dared a glance over her shoulder, and the figure was picking up speed and gaining on them. Was it her brother? Josie couldn't tell and didn't want to slow down to find out.

"Faster," Josie breathlessly urged Becky. "Hurry." Josie stumbled and fell to the ground but quickly got to her feet. Almost there. The thunder of footsteps approaching prodded them forward. Screams punctured the air. Josie managed to stay upright but Becky lost her footing, and try as Josie might to hold on, Becky's fingers slid from her own.

"Get up, get up," Josie begged, pulling on Becky's arm. "Please." Once again, she dared to look behind her. The figure raised his hands and took aim. Josie dropped Becky's arm, turned, and ran.

Josie stumbled into the field and was immediately swallowed up by the corn. Becky's desperate cries followed her but still she kept running. The crack of the shotgun exploded in her ears and searing pain ripped through her arm. He shot me, she thought in disbelief. I've been shot. The world pitched and tilted but using the cornstalks, Josie somehow kept her balance, kept moving. She wanted to go back for Becky, but her feet could move only forward.

The coarse leaves whipped against Josie's face leaving red welts and the hard-packed soil gouged her feet. When she could run no more, she stopped, bent over, hands on knees, and tried to hold completely still. Her arm was throbbing and her ears rang painfully. Was he coming? Her instinct was to keep going, but she had no idea where she was.

Josie had torn a path through the corn and knew that the gunman would only have to follow the flattened stems to find her. Josie began to sidle through the rows, zigzagging as she went, holding her arm, slick with blood, close to her body. Josie knew what a shotgun shell could do to pheasants and deer. She'd seen it time and again. Gaping holes, blood gushing. A few inches over and the bullet would have struck her in the heart. She'd be dead.

Gradually, Josie's breath steadied and the clanging in her ears subsided. She kept her eyes on the corn above, looking for a ripple or sway that might alert her to another presence. Josie's mind whirred. Maybe the shooter thought she was dead. She considered lying on the ground in a heap and playing dead just in case he was still looking for her, but that was too scary.

She thought of Ethan and her father and the ugly words exchanged between the two of them. Her father's terse words kept replaying in her mind: Ethan, give me the gun. And Ethan's defiant refusal.

Was it Ethan? No. Josie refused to believe it. It couldn't be her once-sweet brother who taught her how to bait a hook and how to ride a bike.

Josie needed to get her bearings. She had been in this field a thousand times. She could do this; she could find her way out and get help.

A scratchy rustle of leaves came from off to Josie's right. Josie stopped and stood erect, holding completely still, listening. Clouds curtained the moon and stars, and the field's shadows bled into one another until Josie couldn't even see her hand in front of her face. Still, she felt a presence some twenty feet away. She hoped, prayed it was her father or mother coming to look for her but deep down knew that whoever was in the corn with her wasn't there to help.

The dry, whispery sound came closer and Josie pressed her fingers to her mouth to keep from crying out. Blood dripped down her arm and into a puddle at her feet.

Josie fought the urge to bolt. Stay still, she told herself. You can't see him, so he can't see you. But then the dark shifted—just slightly. The shadows darkened, and he was right there, just a few feet away, his back to Josie. So close that if she reached out, she could touch him, so close that she could smell the heat coming off his skin—the not so unfamiliar scent of sweat and body odor. Was it Ethan? Could her brother have been the one who shot her and chased her into the field?

A small grunt of impatience came from the figure and Josie held her breath. The shape began to drift away but then paused and slowly turned around. After what felt like an eternity, the shadow slunk deeper into the corn and disappeared.

Josie let out a shaky breath. He was gone for now.