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“Whose clothes are these?” another voice said, and uest bedroo up for herself and then the extra pairs of jeans, shirts, and T-shirts I had beside them

“Mine,” Brett said “And et away from the city”

“What city?” the leader of the group thundered

“Knoxville,” Brett said “She lives in Knoxville Her name is Tracy”

Brett was lying through his teeth, but it sounded good There wasn’t any h the place It sounded like they were ransacking it, but Brett didn’t say anything or complain It felt like hours that ere down there, but my internal clock told me it was only about twenty ive up as the sounds slowed and there was hushed

“Is there anyone else nearby here on the mountain we should know about?” the leader asked

“No,” Brett said “Mrs Franklin is a ways up the hty, and a bit senile”

“We know,” another voice said

There was quiet for a h from what I knew of her from Brett’s stories, she was too oons

“If you hear anything,” the leader said, “see anything, re, you call this nuirl he is with is in even deeper shit, do you understand me?”

“Got it,” Brett said

“Co footsteps went out and off the porch

I listened carefully for the cars to drive away, but it was another half hour before the sound of the coffee table beingopened happened When the door opened, light poured in, and I had to squint to see the shadowy form of Brett above us