“Pat!”
He’d barely set foot into Main Street.
Sam jogged toward him, the boy’s face shiny and harrowed. “Pat… I’m sorry…” The boy looked over his shoulder frantically. Patrick half expected a cavalry on his tail. “She’s gone.”
“What?” Patrick’s stomach hollowed. “How long ago?” How far could she have gotten? His feet turned to the south, to the old train tracks.
Sam panted heavily. “She said we’d walk together, that she wanted to explore… then she was just gone—”
Patrick whirled again, his skin prickling. Sam took a purposeful step back.
It always seemed to Patrick that there was something on his face or in his voice that unsettled people. Warned them. Perhaps it was the mere fact that his last name was Colson.
“A walk?” Patrick repeated, voice deadened. He decided it was not a good
