her to action.
The wind was howling fiercely, and snowflakes swirled around the pair. She couldn’t possibly let them walk home in those conditions.
She hurried over to the clerk behind the circulation desk. “Mack, do you think you can close up by yourself? I need to run a little errand.”
“Sure thing.” Mack Porter gave her a wide smile. “It’s only twenty minutes, and I don’t think too many more people will be showing up tonight. It’s getting ugly out there. Be safe.”
All the more reason she wanted to follow those boys. “Thanks. Have a great night.”
“Same to you, my dear.”
It took her three minutes to grab her coat and purse from her office, shut down her computer, lock her office door and hurry to her Lexus. Had she missed them? She scanned the direction she had seen them take the night before, fretting until she found them about a block away, walking along the lakefront road.
A cold wind blew off the water, harsh and mean, biting through her clothing with merciless teeth and hurling tiny ice pellets into her skin. She started up her SUV, spent another minute or two brushing off the new snow, then drove out of the parking lot and along the mostly empty road toward them.
She passed them and pulled off to the side of the road just ahead of them. After opening her door, she turned to face them. She had to raise her voice several decibels to be heard over the howling wind. “Let me give you a ride.”
“We can walk,” Clint said, that steely stubbornness she had noticed before coming through loud and clear.
“Y-y-y-es. We’re f-f-fine,” Davy said. His thin coat wasn’t nearly enough protection to fight off that wind.
“Please. Let me give you a ride. Where do you live?”
They had reached her vehicle now, trudging through ankle-deep snow. “Can we, Clint?” Davy asked. “My feet are freezing, and we hardly made it a block.”
The older boy looked undecided, glancing first at her vehicle, then at her, then at the road ahead of them.
His mouth pursed as he tried to figure out what to do. She gave him another push in the direction she hoped he would take.
“Come on. Get in.”
“We’re not supposed to take rides from strangers,” he finally said, though she could hear the clear reluctance in his voice. “Come on, Davy. The faster we go, the faster we’ll be home.”
They took a few more steps past her vehicle. Davy looked miserable, his nose red and his chin tucked into his chest as he fought to make his way through the cold.
“I’m not a stranger. I’m the librarian. You see me every day when you come to my library,” she pointed out.
“She’s right,” Davy said.
“It’s not safe for you boys to be out here. The roads are icy, and drivers can’t see you very well through the blowing snow, especially now that it’s dark. Please get in.”
He still looked reluctant, so she tried one more card, playing a hunch. “Would you feel better if I call my friend, Chief Emmett, to give you a ride home in his police car?”
In the glow from her open door, she saw a flash of fear in his eyes. Julia felt bad for putting it there, but not if it meant the older boy would let her give them a ride home.
“We can take a ride, I guess,” he finally said.
She made sure they were buckled safely in the backseat of her vehicle before she pulled slowly onto the road.
“Where am I going?”
“Five-fifty Sulfur Hollow Road,” Davy said promptly.
Traffic was basically nonexistent as she drove with care to their house. The roads were slick enough that she couldn’t go fast. Her hands were tight and clammy on the steering wheel by the time they made it to the address they provided.
The sight of the small, thin-walled house was not reassuring.
“Here we are. The lights are off. Where did you say your mom was?”
“She’s home, I bet,” Clint said. “She’s probably sleeping. She works at night sometimes.”
“Oh? I thought you said she lost her job. Did she get another one? Where does she work? And who stays with the two of you when she’s working?”
He mumbled something she couldn’t hear, unhooked his own seat belt, then his brother’s and then practically jumped out of the vehicle, tugging Davy out after him.
“Thanks for the ride. We have to go. Bye, Miss Winston.”
“Bye,” Davy said. He beamed at her. “Thanks for the sandwich and the brownie. You’re a good cook.”
“Um. Thanks.”
The boys hurried up the walk. Clint pulled a key out of his coat pocket, and before she knew it, they had yanked open the door and rushed inside.
Julia stood for a moment, watching a pale light go on inside.
Dropping them off at home had done nothing to ease her concerns. If anything, seeing the small, dingy house gave her fresh reason for concern.
She was trying to manufacture some plausible reason to go to the door when she suddenly spied something red on the backseat that hadn’t been there before the boys climbed inside.
One of Davy’s ragged mittens.
Had he left it there on purpose? She couldn’t be sure, but returning it to its rightful owner seemed exactly the excuse she needed.
Apprehension settled in her stomach as she made her way through unshoveled snow to the sidewalk. She had no idea what she would encounter on the other side. Was their mother a gorgon? Maybe she was ill, and the boys were staying at the library until all hours to give her some peace and quiet.
She had to know.
She knocked, clutching the collar of her coat closed to keep out the vicious wind.
A moment later, Clint opened the door, his expression pinched and wary. He hadn’t yet taken off his coat, she noticed—probably because the air inside the small house felt every bit as cold as the outside air here on the porch.
“Davy left one of his mittens in my car.” She held it out.
“Oh. Thanks. Bye.” He grabbed it from her and started to shove the door closed, but she pulled the old trick of shoving her boot in it before he could, and pushed her way inside.
The house was lit by only a bare bulb here in the hallway. It was clean, but there was a palpable air of neglect.
She saw a space heater in one corner and a couple of sleeping bags neatly rolled up nearby. Were the boys sleeping in here with the space heater?
She could hear no sign of their mother, or, indeed, any adult.
“Clint. I need to talk to your mom. Is she here?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “No. She must be working.”
“Where does she work? Can you give me her work phone number?”
He said nothing and she tried again.
“Does she have a cell phone number I could call?” she asked.
“You could try, but she’s not answering.”
His voice broke on the last word, but he clamped his mouth together tightly, as if afraid that once he started talking, he wouldn’t be able to stop.
Something terrible was going on here. She still didn’t know what, but she suddenly knew she couldn’t stop until she found out.
She uttered a fervent prayer that she could figure out the best way to reach