in the blowing wind because she didn’t cry. Not anymore. “The Annie you knew no longer exists.” Her words were barely audible. “She learned her lessons the hard way.”
“What lessons?” He jerked his head up before his lips finished forming the question.
An awful buzzing whine had rent the air. Piercing. Loud. Annie nearly jumped out of her skin and covered her ears. “What is that?” She had to yell to be heard above the alarm, above the awful thunder that was suddenly crashing overhead, sounding as if mountains were collapsing.
His hand was on her arm, pushing her through the glass door he slid open. “That’s the emergency siren. A hangover from the Second World War. Get Riley.”
Annie had lived on Turnabout for five years. She hadn’t even known there was an emergency siren. She ran to the second bedroom and threw the door wide, calling Riley’s name.
But the room was empty.
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