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

sinking feeling in his stomach. He shut the freezer door and scanned the back of the RV.
    A heavy door leading to what Diego presumed was the bedroom was shut. That was the back of the living space, where one of the windows was covered over with wood. The biker quickly moved to the door and noticed it was latched with metal braces looped by a chain. A master lock prevented access.
    Diego winced as he tugged at it. It was a combination lock. The whole contraption was an add-on, an additional layer of security bolted over the frame. For that matter, the door itself didn't belong. It was heavy and solid under his hands. As he examined it, the refrigerator door closed and his light went away.
    "Is anyone in there?" He pounded on the door. "Are you in there, Hazel? You can talk to me if you are. I'm a friend of Julia. I know your mother."
    Still no answer. The biker put his ear against the panel to listen for breathing, shuffling—anything. As with the rest of the clearing, it was dead quiet.
    Diego strained to see in the darkness and clawed at the door. It was loose, but locked. It made a lot of noise as it jiggled. Diego didn't attempt to muffle it. He imagined Hazel sleeping on the other side, scared but needing to wake up.
    But nobody did wake up. Nobody announced themselves or called for help. He stopped shaking the door when he realized it was futile, but the silence and darkness threatened to drive him crazy. That was it. He needed to get in there somehow.
    The biker moved back to the fridge and opened the door all the way. With the room lit, he moved back to the lock and examined it. He didn't know the combination and the chain was too heavy to break, but the metal loop was attached to the frame with normal screws. The biker drew his knife once more and set the tip of the blade to work as a screwdriver.
    "If anyone's in there, I'm coming in. I don't mean you any harm."
    The knife kept slipping out of the screw, but eventually Diego had twisted it out enough that his fingers could grip it and twist the rest of the way. He put the screw aside and went to work on the next one, but had to open the fridge again to get it started. The third time the door closed on him, he opened it and looked around for anything that could hold it open.
    On the seat next to him, under some newspapers and a thick jacket, was a neatly folded child's plaid skirt.
    Diego froze. The feeling hit him deep, between his stomach and chest. It was a sickening nausea, but his stomach was empty. Just panic, he knew.
    Julia didn't remember the exact clothes Hazel had been wearing when she disappeared. But this meant she could be here. The reason for her failure to answer was obvious. But if the girl was no longer alive, why the need for the lock?
    The light disappeared again and Diego took a few heavy breaths. At this point, he considered just breaking the door down. But he was warned to do things by the book. To allow Maxim and the police to do their jobs. To not get into trouble.
    Already, Diego knew, it was too late for that.
    "Goddamnit!" he heard from outside.
    Diego's eyes shot to the window. Red was in the clearing. How'd he get here so fast? Diego peered between a strip of peeling tint.
    The old man's metal crutch was speared into the ground, standing on its own beside him. Red was leaning over, working at his bad foot.
    "Son of a bitch," he exclaimed. Red turned towards the RV.
    Diego recoiled from the window. His back slammed into a storage cabinet, making a muffled sound. He froze.
    Calm down, he told himself. Red couldn't see through the windows. Diego took a breath and peeked again.
    Red's leg had gotten stuck in a soft patch of ground. The unwieldy leg brace had jutting hinges that must have made for some awkwardness. The old man tugged at his leg a few times and finally drew it free. He stood again to only a slight hunch and resumed his way to the vehicle, leaving the pole in the dirt.
    "Shit," whispered Diego.
    He glanced at the locked door.