The Deepest Secret A Novel by Carla Buckley

Author:Carla Buckley
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780345539663
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2014-02-04T06:00:00+00:00

Miles away, but really only two, there’s a gas station. He knows what these are. He’s seen them on TV. He’s been in the car when his mom’s refueled, huddled under his blanket, heard the clatter of the gas cap being twisted off, smelled the pungent reek of gas. He tells himself he’ll recognize the line of pumps and the building standing behind them. It will all feel familiar. He follows the pulsing dot on Google Maps that represents his halting progress as he pedals to the second dot. When the two dots merge, he looks up.

It’s a big building, all glass and light. Structures arch beside it, underneath a bright blue roof. Cars whiz past. This is a big road. He’s never crossed a road this big before.

He stands back among the trees, well back. He’s clammy with sweat. Nothing about this feels familiar. Nothing about this is right. So many cars, their headlights carving out tunnels of light. He wants to turn around and go home, wake his mom up and tell her everything. But he’s not a little kid anymore.

The phone booth is tucked along the side of the building. But there are cars everywhere. The building has big windows. It glows with light. It throbs with it. He doesn’t have his meter with him. He can’t get near it. This is what happened to Yoshi. She knocked her mask aside as she reached up for something and now she’s sick.

Everything has a rhythm, a rise and fall. The sun, the moon, the tides, the school bus, even the reporters on his street. So he counts, cars coming from one direction, cars coming from the other. He loses track and counts again, sticking out his fingers one by one. All he needs is one Tyler-size space.

He finds one and marks it. He tells himself to be patient, that it will come again. The second time it shows up, he’s across the street, running hard and not stopping to look. He’s on the grassy stretch and around the side of the building when headlights bounce on the wall in front of him. He feels the heat sweep across his shoulder blades. The door opens, releasing a blast of music. The door slams. Will the driver come over to investigate? No, the footsteps crunch away.

He fumbles the receiver off the hook and presses 911 with his gloved fingers.

“Nine-one-one. Please state your emergency.”

Maybe he’s wrong about what he’d seen. Maybe it had been pale grass growing in the mud.

“Please speak up, sir.”

“Amy.” He mumbles, pitches his voice low. He’ll growl the words to this stranger on the other end. “That girl who’s missing? She’s in the Scioto. She’s trapped under the boathouse.”

He bangs the receiver onto the hook. His heart is an animal.

Amy hadn’t been afraid of the wolf, but the wolf had gotten her anyway.

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