CHAPTER SEVEN
“The way I figure,” Bo said as I strapped Malcolm into his car seat, “you don’t gotta respond. Wait for a second sign. Make the grasshopper spell out what he needs.”
“That was the second sign,” I said. I secured the car seat with a lap belt, tugged at the harness, and bopped Malcolm, who had just woken up and was stretching his legs.
“I’ll bet my left arm that was Natkaal,” I said.
“And I’ll bet my left nut he’s up to no good,” Bo said, climbing into the driver’s seat.
I got the sinking feeling that Harris was right and that the shooting in front of my house wasn’t a coincidence. Now with Natkaal sending me cryptic messages, I couldn’t walk away.
Somehow, that damned grasshopper demon was involved in this mess. His crazed grin and whinnied laugh ran through my mind.
So
