doubt that he’d ever had a clear picture of who she was.
Hardly surprising. He didn’t think he’d ever been with her sober.
He pushed aside the past, rubbed at his jaw. “I’m still thinking it would be better for you to be at the ranch.”
“I thought you didn’t want anyone knowing I was here.”
“I don’t, but it doesn’t seem right, you being here by yourself.”
“Yeah. I get it.” He kicked his sole at the floor, marking it. “Right is putting me in a foster home where I have to share a ten-square-foot bedroom and one chest of drawers with three other guys.”
Anger itched its way up Casper’s spine. “Thought things in those places were monitored. That there were rules. Regulations. To keep stuff like that from going down.”
Clay only shrugged. “The girls’ bedroom was a converted den. They used the built-in bookshelves for their clothes. But it was pretty big. They had space to fold up all the laundry. Towels and sheets and rags. Go through papers and magazines for coupons. Clean up old junk for garage sales.”
Casper felt his blood pressure rising. “This was a group home? Or a sweatshop?”
“It was a foster family.”
“With seven kids.”
“It was clean. They fed us. Corn Flakes and ramen and hot dogs. I figure most of the state’s money went to the fifty-inch flat screen, stuff like that.”
And now he wanted to get his gun. “But they didn’t hurt you.”
“If you mean physically, no,” Clay said, and left it at that.
Casper thought about the size of this house. He’d lived a lot of places before coming to Crow Hill. Apartments. Trailers. For a while in a car. But when he’d been Clay’s age, this was the house he’d called home.
Thousands of square feet left empty while he’d holed up in a bedroom smaller than the one Clay had shared with three other boys.
He’d just shared his with spiders. “I’m going to talk to my partners, see if they mind me moving you out to the ranch.”
“I’ll be fine here, if it’s going to be a problem.”
“It won’t be. And I’d feel a lot better having you out there. We’re working on a new pen tomorrow, so I’ll feel them out then. In the meantime…” He looked around the kitchen, walked across the big room to the door leading into the hallway, and flipped the switch there on the wall.
The bulbs in the fixtures along the corridor’s ceiling burst to life. Three stayed lit, two fizzled and popped. The light was enough for now. “Grab a couple of trash bags. I’ll get you started on the first floor. Should keep you busy till I can get back here tomorrow.”
And then he took a deep breath, preparing to face six years he’d thought he’d put away forever. The closets where his old man had locked him, the marks cut into doorframes when he’d jumped out of the way of belts and fists.
The one deep gouge in the plaster left by a knife that had nicked him before cutting into the wall. He raised his hand and rubbed at his shoulder, wondering if the dried blood in that room was still visible, or if bugs had eaten it away.
If the papers he’d scribbled full of hate and silent screams were still hidden between the studs at the head of the bed where he’d slept.
“You okay?” Clay asked from behind him, the trash bagsrustling in his hands, Kevin shaking his head and flapping his ears in impatience.
Casper was still standing in the doorway, staring the hallway’s length, wondering how many nests of wolf spiders lurked in the woodwork.
“Yeah. Let’s go,” he said, and swallowed as he tugged his hat brim to his eyes.
NINE
F OR TWO DAYS now, Faith had not been able to stop thinking about the things Casper had told her in bed. Not about loving her body, and getting off to having her, and what the sight of her naked on top of him did to his cock and his balls. She’d had to push that part of the night to the back of her mind so she could try to make sense of the rest.
The frightening, sobering rest.
His
Hardly surprising. He didn’t think he’d ever been with her sober.
He pushed aside the past, rubbed at his jaw. “I’m still thinking it would be better for you to be at the ranch.”
“I thought you didn’t want anyone knowing I was here.”
“I don’t, but it doesn’t seem right, you being here by yourself.”
“Yeah. I get it.” He kicked his sole at the floor, marking it. “Right is putting me in a foster home where I have to share a ten-square-foot bedroom and one chest of drawers with three other guys.”
Anger itched its way up Casper’s spine. “Thought things in those places were monitored. That there were rules. Regulations. To keep stuff like that from going down.”
Clay only shrugged. “The girls’ bedroom was a converted den. They used the built-in bookshelves for their clothes. But it was pretty big. They had space to fold up all the laundry. Towels and sheets and rags. Go through papers and magazines for coupons. Clean up old junk for garage sales.”
Casper felt his blood pressure rising. “This was a group home? Or a sweatshop?”
“It was a foster family.”
“With seven kids.”
“It was clean. They fed us. Corn Flakes and ramen and hot dogs. I figure most of the state’s money went to the fifty-inch flat screen, stuff like that.”
And now he wanted to get his gun. “But they didn’t hurt you.”
“If you mean physically, no,” Clay said, and left it at that.
Casper thought about the size of this house. He’d lived a lot of places before coming to Crow Hill. Apartments. Trailers. For a while in a car. But when he’d been Clay’s age, this was the house he’d called home.
Thousands of square feet left empty while he’d holed up in a bedroom smaller than the one Clay had shared with three other boys.
He’d just shared his with spiders. “I’m going to talk to my partners, see if they mind me moving you out to the ranch.”
“I’ll be fine here, if it’s going to be a problem.”
“It won’t be. And I’d feel a lot better having you out there. We’re working on a new pen tomorrow, so I’ll feel them out then. In the meantime…” He looked around the kitchen, walked across the big room to the door leading into the hallway, and flipped the switch there on the wall.
The bulbs in the fixtures along the corridor’s ceiling burst to life. Three stayed lit, two fizzled and popped. The light was enough for now. “Grab a couple of trash bags. I’ll get you started on the first floor. Should keep you busy till I can get back here tomorrow.”
And then he took a deep breath, preparing to face six years he’d thought he’d put away forever. The closets where his old man had locked him, the marks cut into doorframes when he’d jumped out of the way of belts and fists.
The one deep gouge in the plaster left by a knife that had nicked him before cutting into the wall. He raised his hand and rubbed at his shoulder, wondering if the dried blood in that room was still visible, or if bugs had eaten it away.
If the papers he’d scribbled full of hate and silent screams were still hidden between the studs at the head of the bed where he’d slept.
“You okay?” Clay asked from behind him, the trash bagsrustling in his hands, Kevin shaking his head and flapping his ears in impatience.
Casper was still standing in the doorway, staring the hallway’s length, wondering how many nests of wolf spiders lurked in the woodwork.
“Yeah. Let’s go,” he said, and swallowed as he tugged his hat brim to his eyes.
NINE
F OR TWO DAYS now, Faith had not been able to stop thinking about the things Casper had told her in bed. Not about loving her body, and getting off to having her, and what the sight of her naked on top of him did to his cock and his balls. She’d had to push that part of the night to the back of her mind so she could try to make sense of the rest.
The frightening, sobering rest.
His
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