The Green Children: A Sycamore Moon Novel (Sycamore Moon Series Book 3) by Domino Finn Page A

figured if someone had kidnapped a little girl, a stranger poking around would always be viewed as a threat.
    Still, no one answered, and Diego heard no sounds. The biker wasted no time and peeked in the windows.
    A black film lined the inside glass. As bright as it was outside, the tinted windows might as well have been opaque. Even cupping his hands to his face against the glass, Diego couldn't see a thing.
    He circled the vehicle looking for a weak point. Only the front windows of the long RV were clear, and peeking in them didn't reveal anything out of the ordinary. The passenger seat was used as a shelf, holding a small stack of Field & Stream magazines, a box of Kleenex tissues, a package of cheese-sandwich crackers, and three empty Aqua Vitae water bottles. A twine necklace hung from the rearview mirror, a metal cross pendant facing the driver.
    The biker peered deeper into the motor home, but a makeshift curtain was draped across the back of the seats, attached to the ceiling with hooks.
    Diego backed off the doorstep and frowned. He didn't want to do anything illegal—not again—but he didn't have many options. He was alone and never carried his cell phone with him. If there was a chance Hazel was inside this truck, he was the only one that could help. There was no way he could walk away.
    "Is anyone there?" Diego called out. He gave it a minute and then approached the thin door on the far side of the vehicle. It, too, had a blacked-out window. The biker gritted his teeth and knocked.
    As he waited, Diego considered whether it was finally time to replace that shotty he'd lost. Something about this primitive home made him feel defenseless. Guns set people on edge, instigated conflict, and made him look guilty. He wanted to avoid that, ideally, but it would have been comforting in his grip.
    At least he still had his riding jacket on. Under the left sleeve, strapped to his forearm, was his knife. It wasn't much, but he could defend himself with it.
    When no one answered, Diego tried the door. It was locked, of course, as were the cab doors. The biker slid his knife from its sheath and went to jimmy the side door open. It was an old lock, and the metal bent away and snapped open without too much damage. A musty smell wafted from within. Diego covered his nose and climbed aboard.
    The tints did a great job keeping the light out. They were too effective. It was nearly pitch-black inside, the only light coming from the open door and a few scratches in the windows. The door closed itself, though, and he had nothing to prop it open with. The biker could see glimpses outside through the torn areas of tint, but it was difficult to make out details within the RV.
    That was okay. Diego didn't need details.
    "Hazel?"
    The emptiness didn't answer. Diego's eyesight adjusted and revealed a space that was very lived in. Garbage and half-used supplies were strewn on every countertop and seat. The carpet on the floor was worn thin. To his right was the curtain to the cab, but Diego didn't touch it for fear it would fall off its haphazard supports. Instead, he had an idea and opened the fridge.
    A white light illuminated the room. It lit the living space and brought the squalor to full color. Considering the mess, Diego was surprised to see the kitchen sink and adjoining counter completely wiped down. He opened a few of the cabinets. Glasses, dishes, beef jerky, Lucky Charms. The cereal stood out.
    The room darkened as Diego finished with the cabinets—the refrigerator had closed. He opened it again and its bright, white light filled the motor home. There was no milk or juice, just a few jugs of water, some jars of grease, and a plate covered with tinfoil.
    Diego opened the small freezer above. It didn't have a working light but there was enough from below. Inside he saw an ice tray and a brown paper wrapper. Diego glanced out the window behind him and made sure he was still alone in the clearing. He was, but that didn't ease the