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many perks, Claire. Besides my paper-filing and coffee-
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making duties, I also get to scrub graffiti off of Amble s
important landmarks in the summer. Such as the elemen-
tary school. And the dumpster in the back of the diner.
He leaned over and kissed my cheek so gently that it
felt like the memory of a kiss instead of the real thing. Be
right back, he said, his lips lingering on my skin. And
then he was gone, while I waited with my hand cupping
my face, like if I held it there long enough I could keep his
kiss forever.
We started to smooth the paint thinner over the spot
with a couple of massive sponges that Grant also appar-
ently needed to complete his deputy duties. It made the
layer of paint watery, and soon it began to drip into the
snow. I cringed as I watched the flecks of red turn to pools.
It almost looked like blood. I hadn t really thought about
what I was going to do after I stripped the house down to
its secrets.
Grant barely needed to use the wire brush; the paint
practically melted away, like it had wanted us to know
what was hidden beneath it all along. I wiped the last of
the paint away that hid the curved letter. It turned out to
be a u. My eyes ran over the rest of the word it belonged
to: you. I started to feel sick all over again.
Grant stepped back from the house, pulling me with
him. He squeezed my hand as he strung the crooked words
together.
We re watching you, Graham.
A wave of nausea washed over me. I clenched my
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stomach as I bent into the snow. I didn t even feel the cold
seeping through my jeans.
We re watching you, Graham.
They re watching you, Claire.
Another warning. Another threat of something some-
thing deadly lingering ahead, waiting. Watching. Another
set of eyes human or animal waiting to hurt us.
Breathe. Grant s voice was in my head and suddenly
I was out of the snow and in his arms and wrapped in a
blanket on the couch.
I closed my eyes as I listened to his heart beating in his
chest. Real. Solid.
Safe.
After a few minutes, the rhythmic thumps began
to warp into a low pitch groan. And then they slowly
stretched into something like a howl.
Grant, I whispered.
He pressed his finger to my lips. Shhh.
I gently pulled my ear from his t-shirt, but his heart
kept howling.
No. The wolves kept howling.
Grant. I threw off the blanket and ran to the kitchen
window. Another howl ripped through the cornfield.
I felt his breath on the back of my neck as I stared out
the window.
The stalks at the edge of our yard began to shiver, and
I thought for sure I was seeing things. I rubbed my eyes
until they burned and looked again. Now I could hear
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them snapping, even through the window. Grant s hand
clasped my shoulder and squeezed.
Nothing in the entire universe could have prepared me
for what I saw come staggering out of that cornfield.
Dad stumbled through the snow, wiping the snow off
the sleeves of his jacket. He started to make his way toward
the back door, and for or a second I thought he saw the
graffiti. But I quickly realized he wasn t even looking at the
house.
Dad hesitated in front of his shed, staring at the door.
He circled it once, twice like a wolf analyzing its prey.
Then he bent down to inspect the lock, turning it over in
his hand.
My pulse raced.
Could he tell I d tried to open the door, that I d tugged
at the lock?
Slowly, he stood, still staring at the door. And then he
turned and stared straight at me through the window.
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twenty-seven
Claire, are you here? Mom s voice wafted in, along with
with a flurry of snow and a stuffed grocery bag.
Mom. Thank God.
I m here, I called back, watching Dad wipe off his
boots on the back porch.
Can I help you with that, Mrs. Graham? Grant
asked, and before she could answer, he had already lifted
the paper bag out of her arms. Mom smiled, and then
winked at me when he wasn t looking.
Got any tea in there? My throat s a little scratchy,
Dad said. He smiled at me. How bout you, Claire-bear?
Want some tea?
I stepped away from him. No thanks.
He cocked his head to the side, watching me, trying to
analyze me with his investigative training. I turned away.
Maybe you re getting sick because you re spending so
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much time outside. In the snow, I challenged, watching as
the snowflakes made webs across the windowpanes.
Behind me, Grant sucked in a breath.
Dad cleared his throat and said, Well, that could be
the case. I ve been out looking for those graffiti vandals,
the ones that messed up the school, for the last couple of
days. He shuffled to the kettle and lit the burner.
I caught Grant s eye. He shook his head once, just
slightly, so only I would see. And then he went back to
unpacking the groceries.
Dad was lying. I remembered that first day in the sta-
tion, when Grant showed me the articles in the database.
I d overheard Seth telling Grant he d been working on the
vandalism case himself.
The tea kettle screamed, and Mom hummed to herself
as she poured the steaming water into two polkadot mugs.
She hooked her fingers around the handles and carried
them to the table, Dad trailing behind her.
What do we do? Grant murmured, handing me a
bag of lettuce.
I think we need to find out some answers, I whis-
pered back, before we assume anything.
Grant nodded. He scooped up two loaves of bread and
shoved them in the bread box on the counter. I smiled to
myself. Even two years later, Grant still knew how to locate
everything in my kitchen.
I squeezed his hand. And then I turned to face my par-
ents.
They sat at the tiny, bow-legged table by the back win-
240
dow, each drinking from their mugs. Dad s socked feet
touched Mom s bare leg as it bounced beneath the table.
They looked normal, like someone else s parents sitting in
a regular kitchen, on a regular day, reading depressing news
stories about things that didn t happen to people like them.
I felt a sharp pang in my chest, and I realized that I missed
them, like this. I missed them the way they were before I
knew better. Before I knew about all the secrets they kept.
Claire? Grant? Dad said, setting down the paper.
You guys want something to eat? There s some pie in the
fridge.
I stepped into the dying afternoon light and slowly
sunk into an empty seat across from them. Grant lowered
himself into the seat next to me. Dad. I need something
from you.
They both stared back at me blankly and I froze.
There was so much I didn t know, so much I wanted to
know about Ella, about Sarah, about me that I didn t
know where to start. Mom set her mug on the table and
folded her hands, waiting. I stole a glance at Dad. His eyes
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