April, 1999
Chapter 1  

Four days after her stepfather raped her, fifteen-year-old Darcy Weston walked into Crestwood Prep School ready to take action. Still jittery from the assault, and wanting to puke all the time, she tried to concentrate on the laughter of the kids in the hall, an occasional shout and slammed lockers. She’d just spun the dial on her own locker and popped it open when her best friend came up to her. Darcy slid the door half shut so Lisa couldn’t see inside.

“Hey, you okay?” Lisa asked. She was taller than Darcy, had dark hair that would look better with some streaks, and didn’t wear makeup, a staple for Darcy. “You left my house before I got up.”

Darcy had crashed over at Lisa’s and only slept at home when step-daddy went on a business trip. The bastard wasn’t done with her, she knew that. Her real dad, who’d grown up in a rural village and stayed a small town boy, always said that leopards don’t change their spots, and Darcy was sure this was true about millionaire Richard Carrier.

“Yeah, I had a meeting with Mrs. Ames early. I forgot to tell you.”

“Mama was going to cook you breakfast.” Lisa came from a big Italian family and was at Crestwood on a scholarship.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. I snuck out early so I wouldn’t wake anybody.”

“It’s okay. Meet me for lunch?”

“Sure.”

When Lisa left, Darcy tugged a duffle full of personal items out of her locker and headed to the lav to change. As she passed by the guidance office, she had the stupid urge to go in and really talk to her counselor, Mrs. Ames, standing right now at a secretary’s desk. But then Darcy remembered the other kids saying that the school staff was on their parents’ payroll and couldn’t be trusted. Given the forty thousand dollar a year price tag on the tuition, Darcy believed the statement.

Instead, she hurried to the girls’ room, changed from her uniform to jeans and a T-shirt covered by a hoody and ducked out a side door of the building. It was only open for a half-hour in the morning because after Columbine, all entrances were locked. She walked the several blocks to the Greyhound station on Eighth.

Of course, Darcy hadn’t ever traveled by bus, but she approached the ticket counter calmly, ignoring the men slouched in the seat looking like they’d slept here, the wild-eyed junky near the bathroom and the screaming kids. “I’d like a ticket on the next bus to Rockland, in upstate New York.”

“You’re just in time,” the employee behind the glass said. “One leaves in fifteen minutes. If you hurry, you can catch it.”

In less than ten, she boarded the big coach and settled into a seat in the back. The inside smelled a little like disinfectant. Stuffing her duffle overhead, she clutched her bulky Friends backpack to her chest because her cash was stuffed inside. Closing her eyes, she battled back the emotion at how screwed up her life was. Thank God, she’d stopped crying. She wished she could get rid of the nightmares that haunted her every waking hour. And her dark and disgusting dreams.

What the jerk had done to her hurt because she and Lisa were still virgins. The act itself had been sweaty and smelly, his breath stinking of alcohol and his grip on her arms almost as painful as the invasion of her body. Then there was the memory was her mother’s face the next day, raising an eyebrow, saying, Really, Darcy, I know you don’t like him, but this?

Nestling into the high back seat, she listened to the grind of the gears and the engine starting and tried not to let herself fall asleep, but she hadn’t caught many zees since it happened. So she told herself to think about good things: Lisa and her warm and loving family. Her father’s sense of fun before he died four years ago from an aneurism in his brain. Darcy had been the center of Seth Weston’s life after he married her rich mother in college, where he’d gone on a scholarship. They were happy for a while, but then they’d divorced and Darcy never got to spend enough time with him. Which was really crappy. She focused on him at his parents’ farm where they used to go together….

Somebody was shaking her. She bolted awake, warm and fuzzy-brained from sleep.

“Hello, dear, are you okay?”

Darcy stared into the face of an older woman who was smiling at her. She tucked a piece of her dark hair into her hoody and tried to stay cool. “Huh?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. You’ve been asleep since I got on the bus in Poughkeepsie and sat down next to you. I didn’t know your destination, but you missed several stops and I was worried.”

“Rockland. Upstate.” To her family’s farm. Too bad nobody lived there anymore. Her grandparents would believe her about Richard’s attack. But they’d died together a year ago in a car accident. Darcy hadn’t even gone to the double funeral because her mother was in Belize during it and nobody was around to take Darcy. Not that Lydia Weston Carrier would have gone anyway. Her mother hated her dad’s parents because they never approved of her dad’s choice of a wife, which was why Darcy never let on how much she loved going to the farm to visit her dad. Darcy had cried for days at missing the funeral but kept that from her mother, too.

“Well you’re in luck,” the woman was saying. “Rockland’s my stop too, and you haven’t missed it.” When Darcy didn’t respond the woman continued, “I’m Anna Kramer, by the way.” As she spoke, Darcy took a better look at her. Her clothes were simple and not expensive like the ones in Darcy’s closet. Her hair was the color of wheat fields on the farm. Darcy had sketched it often enough to know. “I’m a social worker right outside of New York City.”

Oh, freaking shit! “I’m Darcy.”

“Are you going to visit relatives?”

“Yes.” She knew the lie that needed to be told. A teenage runaway would be reported to the bus driver. “My grandparents.”

Darcy’s plan was simple. Get to the farm, stay there, and not be found until she figured out how to stay away from Richard forever. Her mother didn’t know this, either, but Nana and Papa had willed the ten acres and the farmhouse to Darcy. They’d put it in trust for her until she was eighteen with strict instructions to their lawyer to keep what they’d done confidential so Lydia wouldn’t find out about it. They’d told Darcy about her inheritance on one of their frequent phone calls and given her keys once when she visited. Apparently they didn’t like her mother any more than she liked them because it was all done on the QT. So Darcy figured she could stay at the farm until she decided what to do. She knew where it was located, though she had no way of knowing the condition of the place or how she’d manage there alone. It didn’t matter. She had to get away from New York City.

“I’m being picked up by my sister,” Ann Kramer went on, settling into her own seat. “If you’d like a ride to where you’re going.”

“No thanks. I got one.”

Purposely closing her eyes again, Darcy sat back in her seat. The woman took the hint. All Darcy needed were do-gooders trying to help her. She might not have figured out how she was going to survive alone in a strange place, but she knew one fact. She was never going to look into the awful face of that man again.

#

Stella Mackenzie glanced over at her big sister and grinned. They were in line to exit the bus station parking lot and it was slow going. “You must be tired. Sorry about the delay.”

“It’s not that.” Anna glanced at her sister, her brown eyes troubled even in the dim light. “I met this young girl on the bus. She had to be in her early teens. She was alone, coming to Rockland to visit her grandparents.”

“That’s nice.” Stella checked behind her, saw an opening in another lane and took it.

“Something was off,” Anna continued. “She seemed alone and scared.”

“Did she board with you?”

“No, she was seated when I got on, so she must be from the city. She was dead-to-the world asleep. I woke her so she wouldn’t miss her stop.”

“It’s your social work background that has you worrying, Sis.”

“It is. My instinct tells me this is a concern.”

Stella loved the sensitivity of her big sister who had practically raised her. “What could you do about it now? She’s disappeared into the throng coming off the busses, no doubt.”

“I told her we’d give her a ride to her destination. But she said her grandparents were picking her up.”

“Then don’t worry.” When Anna stilled frowned, Stella sighed. “Do you want to wait around to make sure they come for her?”

Stella didn’t, because Jordan was at home alone and she hated leaving her twelve-year-old at night. He had the Game Boy Anna bought him months ago to keep him company, but Stella had only recently begun leaving him without supervision at night.

“I don’t know. I…” Her sister’s voice trailed off as she pointed to the taxi stand. Stella saw a young girl getting into a cab. “That’s her. No grandparents.”

“Maybe they couldn’t come and arranged for other transportation.”

“Maybe. Follow her.”

“What?”

“Pull into the taxi lane and follow the cab. I have a hunch.”

There was no getting around Anna’s hunches. It did seem odd for the young girl to be taking a taxi at this time of night.

“Sounds like a detective story,” Stella said with humor lacing her voice. “Follow that cab!” She did it anyway, and was treated to the blasting of horns as she cut off traffic. But she managed to come up right behind the cab.

Once they drove out of the city, Stella stayed a few lengths away. The taxi was headed west, in the same direction as her small town of Bergen, so they weren’t even going out of their way. They left the city behind for rolling hills which gave way to acres of farmland. When they reached the outskirts of her village, the cab took a left that led down another road where there was nothing but farmland for miles. “Go ahead, follow him,” Anna directed.

She did, but the vehicle slowed on Acres Road and turned left onto a side road made of gravel. Stella pulled over to the shoulder on the main thoroughfare.

            “Should I go down the drive? These are all private farms out here, Anna.”

            “I don’t know. Wait until the cab leaves. We don’t want to seem like we’re stalking the poor girl.”

            Stella waited. After a few minutes, the cab came whisking by them. “Go in now,” Anna said.

Carefully, Stella drove up the rocky surface and stopped in front of the house. No sign of life. Through the windows she could see the inside was dark.

“Maybe the girl left in the cab because no one was here.”

            “Could be. We didn’t get a good look inside when it drove out.” Anna opened the door. “I’m going to check.”

            The cool April night air wafted inside the car as Anna got out. Marching to the front door, she knocked. Several times. Her sister was so forceful when she needed to be, whereas Stella was more retiring. Then again, Dan had taken care of everything since she was eighteen. When Anna slid back into the front seat, she shook her head. “I guess you’re right. It’s all locked up and there’s no sign of life inside.”

            “I wonder where she went.”

            “Maybe there was a backup plan.”

            “Well,” Anna said, practically, “I guess we’ve done all we can.”

            “Yeah, I guess.”

            But in the rearview mirror, as Stella watched until the farmhouse was out of sight, she was seized by a bad feeling about the situation. “Maybe we should come back tomorrow and make sure she isn’t here.”

            “Good idea, Sis. Now, tell me about my nephew.”

            “Ah, my favorite topic.” Stella laughed, forgot about the mysterious teenager and began telling tales about her son.

#

            The farmhouse was cold and musty, Darcy thought, as she switched on a flashlight in the kitchen and scanned the inside. There had to be an inch of dust accumulated but that could be cleaned. It was early April, and warm during the days, but tonight was cold. She needed to start a fire. Lucky that she hadn’t had time to do it before the car pulled up. When she peaked out the side window and saw the lady from the bus on the porch, she almost freaked. Geez, did people really follow up on strangers in this part of the country? You could drop dead on the street in New York and pedestrians would walk around you.

            Oh, well, tasks needed to be done. First warmth, then food. She moved to one of the two fire places in the house--the kitchen hearth. How many times had she sat near it while Nana baked and told her stories of her father’s childhood in the seventies. She said he played the guitar and was a star athlete in school. She’d also shown Darcy pictures how he’d worn his hair long as a teen. On one of her visits here, her grandfather had taught her how to light a fire. Thank you, Papa.

            Shivering, she darted outside to get wood, hoping it was still stacked where it always had been. It was, with a tin full of tinder next to it on the covered porch. Back inside, the dry wood scraped her hands as set in the kindling. When that caught, she piled on more wood, took out the matches she’d brought and soon, a fire sparked in the room. Immediately, warmth enveloped her. That done, she emptied all her provisions from the backpack and duffle onto the floor. First, she took her money and placed it in a hidey hole her grandpa had shown her in the brick wall. She’d only brought minimal clothes to make room for everything else: flashlights and batteries, granola bars, matches and lighters, dried fruit and nuts, a Sony Walkman so she could listen to her favorite bands, and a few other necessities. Last was her cell phone. She had her friend Will who “liked” her, put the account for the phone in his own name and gave him her laptop to sell for money to pay the bill until she got back. He was the only one who knew she was running away. She hadn’t told Lisa because her friend would have flipped out.

After the pack was empty, she stood. There was a well outside and her grandpa had put a hand pump on it for emergencies. She’d fetched water from it a time or two.

Going to the closet, she pulled on one of her grandfather’s jackets. Tears welled in her eyes. It still smelled like Old Spice and there was a stick of chewing gum in the pocket that must have been his. Damn. Damn. Damn. Her eyes stung as she stepped outside. A beam of light from the flashlight leading the way, she got a bucketful of water and brought it to the kitchen, then went out for another, which she’d placed in the bathroom. Online, she’s researched how to flush with no gas or electric, as well as a ton of other things for surviving here. When her chores were done, she warmed a packet of hot chocolate over the fire and ate it with a granola bar. Nana put up all kinds of fruit and vegetables from a garden she used to keep, but they were in the cellar and Darcy was afraid to go down there tonight. Tomorrow would be soon enough to take stock of that and any other food in the house. Meanwhile, she felt safe.

            Now, safety was mega important, she thought as she removed her boots and found one of Nana’s afghans in the living room. She laid down in the long recliner near the fire, which was where Papa sat and snoozed while Nana cooked. Covering herself up, she was finally able to relax.

But she didn’t let the tears come. She promised herself she wouldn’t cry after she left New York. Her stepfather had violated her and her mother called her liar. Fuck them all. She was on her own now and would make her way without needing anybody.

#

            Jordan Mackenzie sat on his bed playing with his Game Boy which his mom said he could do while she was out. Usually he had to put it away after supper. True, he was alone a lot, and could pretty much do whatever he wanted, but he kept her rules because he didn’t want to give her any more reasons to be sad. And because she could trust him, she started letting him stay alone when she took a second job to make ends meet. He mowed lawns and shoveled snow to get his own money and had bought a high speed bike that was big and fast.

            He was about to go to the next level on the new version of Super Mario Brothers that he’d gotten for his birthday when he heard, “Jordan, we’re back. Aunt Anna’s here.”

            He shut off the game—heck he was gonna win, too—and stood.

He’d reached the kitchen when his mom’s sister, who was totally awesome, came into the room. “Look at you! You’ve grown so much,” she said grabbing him in a hug. She smelled like apples and cinnamon. He hugged back. He knew most of his buddies didn’t hug their parents or relatives anymore, but Jordan couldn’t figure out why. It wasn’t as if he did it in public!

            “I know, Aunt Anna. I grew inches since I saw you.”

            “Yes, you did, young man.” She tousled his hair, which he wore a little long. “You’re a handsome devil, Jordan Mackenzie, just like your daddy.”

            “Thanks.”

            His mother had watched the reunion and when they were done asked, “How are ya, baby? Any problems?”

            He had to stay on his mother about being way too protective. “M-om. I’m twelve.”

            “Still…” She gave him that smile that sapped all the rebellion out of him. His friends would croak if they knew how much he loved his mother and tried to please her.

            “It was cool, Mom. Especially when the girl delivered my pizza. She came in and danced on the table for me.” He wiggled his brows.

            “Yeah?” She spoke as she got wine out of the fridge. “How nice for you.” He liked it when she played along. “Any questions you have about all that?”

            His mom said his ears turned red when he was embarrassed and they probably were now. She always brought this up, wanted to tell him about sex, but he couldn’t ask her that stuff. He knew everything anyway.

            They had a snack of popcorn and cider and at ten, he kissed them both goodnight and went down the hall to bed. Or so they thought. Jordan liked when Aunt Anna visited because his mother would tell her what was going on in her life. And Jordan hid out of sight to listen. Mostly he wanted to know how his mom really was. This was how he found out that her two jobs made her exhausted. How guys were already asking her for dates at work. And how he heard over and over that he was the center of her life.

            It was a big responsibility and he tried to deserve it.

            But tonight, when he hid around the corner, they were talking about somebody else.

            “Anna, I had a bad feeling when we left the farm.”

            “Me, too. Like you suggested, we’ll go check again tomorrow. If there’s no sign of life, I guess she isn’t there.”

            She? Who were they discussing?

            “She seemed so alone,” Anna added. “We didn’t have much growing up, but at least Dad took care of us after Mom died.”

            “You did a lot of the taking care, as I recall.” His mom sighed. “You say she was early teens?”

            “Fifteen, sixteen at the most. She was pale faced and tense, even in sleep, with circles under her eyes.”

            “We could probably find out who owns the farm, though a lot of them have been foreclosed on Acres Road because it’s hard to make a living in agriculture.”

            “Maybe, if there’s reason to think she’s there.”

            A girl was on a farm? Alone?            

            Hmm, Jordan thought. An adventure was lurking here. Maybe he’d tag along tomorrow when they went to check. See for himself what was going on. Making the short trek to his room, he went inside and softly closed the door. Instead of going to sleep, he got out his current journal, stretched out on the old worn comforter decorated with Yankee greats and opened the book.

            He titled this one, “The Case of the Girl at the Farm.”

            From there, he lost himself making up who she was, why she was there, and what part he was going to play in her life. When he finished, he slipped the book under his pillow and opened the window so the room would get cold for sleep. When he drifted off, he dreamed of a girl he felt he already knew well.

#

Darcy awoke shaking violently. She tried to pull her down coverlet up from the bottom of her sleigh bed, but she felt wool. Her eyes flew open and she saw the embers glowing in the fireplace. It was like a stab in the heart when she realized where she was, what she’d done. And what had been done to her. Tears formed in her eyes, but again, she forced them back.

Throwing off the afghan, she stumbled to her feet, which were freezing. She had to pee, and luckily she’d gotten water from the well for the toilet last night. After she did her business, she thought about making another fire. But what if someone drove by in the daylight? The busy bodies from last night might come to check her out again. So she bundled up, this time in one of her grandma’s sweatshirts that was still in her closet and went to the kitchen. She devoured another granola bar, some dried fruit and drank some well water.

Then she decided to explore the house to see what she could use during her stay here. The cupboards held tons of food—regular canned fruits and vegetables, macaroni and cheese, though the dates on them expired. Spaghetti sauce and pasta. Scouring the rest of the space, she found popcorn, toothpaste and other necessities.

Next she headed to the basement. She used a flashlight and took the stairs carefully. A couple were wobbly. At the bottom, a strong mildew odor made her wince. And it was pitch black, except for the beam of the flashlight. In a room off to the left, she found the canning Nana had done, jars and jars of it. She picked out peaches and, because the place gave her the creeps, hurried back up the staircase.

Loud knocking came from the front of the house. She halted abruptly on the top step and listened. They knocked again, called out, “Anybody in there?” Then, “Jordan, where are you? Nobody’s here and we’re leaving.”

Thank God, Darcy thought and shifted to the left, where she had a caught sight of a boy peering in the window.

Darcy froze. He had a direct view of her, too.

They stared at each other.

He looked young, the hair under his baseball cap blond. He hadn’t called out to the women in the front, so Darcy dropped onto her hands and knees and crawled over to the window. Still crouching below the glass, she could see he had freckles, and his eyes were the exact grass green she used in a lot of her drawings. “Please,” she said as softly as she could to be heard through the glass. “Don’t tell.”

A frown and he put his hands on his hips.

“If you come back alone, I’ll explain what’s going on.”

He seemed like he was going to disagree, but instead, he shrugged and put his mouth very close to the glass. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Then he was gone.

Darcy deflated. She rolled over to a seated position and leaned against the wall. What should she do?  Would he keep quiet? She had no idea if she could trust this stranger. She knew she should leave the farmhouse right away; she’d have to force herself to do it. But she ended up putting her head in her hands when she realized she didn’t have anywhere else to go.

#

Jordan’s Journal

What happened to me today was so totally cool! She was like a character out of a fairy tale, appearing from a dark dungeon. When she came to the window, I could see her dark hair was streaked with blond and her eyes were the color of bluebells. She seemed so scared it made me sad. I had this big urge to protect her--my dad said men are supposed to do that for women. So I did what I thought I’d never do, I lied, by not telling, to my mother and aunt. But honest to God, I got sucked in by her pleading face. And okay, I admit it, I felt like a hero keeping her secret. I’ve always wanted to save somebody like the characters I write about do and maybe this is my chance. I can’t wait till I see her again

#

The next morning, Jordan waited until he heard the front door close then bolted out of bed. He dressed fast in jeans and his new Matrix sweatshirt, chowed down some cereal and took the key to their storage cage in the basement. Once he got his bike and was on the road, he peddled fast. It was cool this early in the morning but he liked the wind in his hair. He couldn’t wait to get to the farm. He’d been anxious all weekend to go over there. But his mom had an eagle eye on him and he didn’t dare give her clues to what he knew. He felt guilty about it, sure, but heck, he needed an adventure in his life. Besides, once he’d seen the girl’s big blue eyes get all teary, once he heard her beg him not to tell, he couldn’t rat on her. Damn, she was probably gone by now. Well, at least it had the makings of a good story, which he already started.

            The bike’s tires crunched on the gravel road as he pedaled up it to the house which stood against a sky so blue it reminded him of pool water. There was no smoke coming out of the chimney, but she’d had a fire that one night because his mom caught a whiff when the three of them were here. He’d have to warn her about that. Near the front door, he hopped off his bike and walked it around back in case anybody drove by. He went right up to the window and there she was, sitting in a chair, a big book…no, a pad, like a sketch pad, on her lap. She looked awesome with her hair down and her face relaxed. And she seemed lost in her drawing, like he got with his writing.

            Time to find out the truth. He knocked on the window.

            She startled and the fear on her face made him feel bad. He wondered what had happened to her to make her come here alone and be so scared of company. She set the book down and stood. Wearing tight jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, neat boots, she crossed to him.

            He smiled. “Hi.”

            “Hi,” she said through the glass. Today she didn’t seem so fragile.

            “I came back as soon as I could. I had to spend the weekend with my mom.”

            “Did you tell her I was here?”

            “No. Can I come inside?”

            She waited a beat, then thumbed toward the left. He walked through the back door when she opened it.

            Up close, she was even prettier but he hated the sadness in her eyes. It was an expression his mom got a lot after his dad died. “What’s your name?”

            “Um, I’m not sure I should tell you.”

            “Suit yourself. I’m Jordan Mackenzie. I guess I can call you ‘Hey, girl.’”

            “Whatever.”

            “My aunt sat next to you on the bus. My mother and her saw you get in a cab at the station. They were worried so they followed you that night. When they didn’t find you at the house, they decided to check back the next day just in case.”

“I don’t get it. People do that up here?”

“Yeah, sure.” Jordan leaned against the door. “Why are you hiding out, anyway?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“You’re a runaway? Holy cow.”

Moving to the hearth, she sat down on the cement. “You can come all the way in.”

He crossed the room and took a seat on an old stuffed recliner a few feet away. His mom had talked to him about giving people personal space.

The girl asked, “You gonna tell anybody I’m here?”

“That depends on why you ran away. If you did something against the law, I have to tell.”

Her face got beet red and her hands fisted. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Jordan had read some books from the library on writing. An author noticed details, like emphasis of certain words. “Who did?”

“Somebody I know, is all, and I had to get away from him. Listen, I can’t talk about this.”

“Fine, I’ll go call my mother.” When she didn’t give in, he started to get up.

“No, Jordan please, you can’t blow me in.”

Not really wanting to, he sat back down and folded his arms over his chest.

She swallowed hard. “You probably won’t even understand it. How old are you anyway?”

“I’m twelve and mature for my age. How old are you?”

“Fifteen going on fifty, now.”

“What happened to make you feel so old?”

She looked away for a long time then finally faced him. “It’s really personal. So you tell me something first, about you. Something private, that nobody else knows.”

Jordan’s heart started to beat fast as he ran through his mind what he’d never told anybody. Finally he decided on one thing. “When my dad died a year ago, I slept in my mother’s bed for a week.” He could feel his cheeks heat, remembering how he couldn’t stand feeling so bad and being near his mom helped. “I’m embarrassed about it and never even told my best friend Tommy.”

Her expression got even sadder. “I think it’s nice. My mother wouldn’t have let me do that when my dad died even if I asked her.”

“Your dad’s dead, too?”

“Uh, huh. Four years ago. It sucks.” She glanced around at the homey kitchen. He could create this atmosphere in his writing--worn but it had a feel of love, of warmth to it. “This was my dad’s parents’ farm. It belongs to me, now.”

“No kidding. You own this place?” When she nodded, he said, “At least you’re not trespassing.”

“I would’ve come even if I was.”

“You can tell me what happened. Why not, if you didn’t do anything bad.”

She glanced away.

“If it’s a good enough reason, I swear to God I won’t tell anybody you’re here.” He waited. “And I’ll even help you.”

“I, um…” She bit her lip and wouldn’t face him. “I got a stepdad.”

“Is he nice?”

“On the outside. Inside…he’s evil.” Her voice sounded like it hurt to talk.

Jordan frowned. “Evil? That’s a strong word. What did he do?”

Her gaze was still averted. “You ever see those afternoon specials where the stepfather does something…bad to his stepdaughter?”

“Does something?” What the… Then it dawned on him. “Oh, no. He did that to you?”

Still staring out, she nodded. Her shoulders started to shake. Jordan slid to the floor, knelt in front of her and took her hand. It was awkward but his mom also told him that people needed to be touched sometimes. “That’s awful. I’m sorry.”

Her expression was horrible when she finally looked at him. “That’s why you can’t tell anybody I’m here. They’ll make me go back. And he’ll do it to me again.”

“Did you tell your mom what happened?”

More watery eyes, but she didn’t cry. “Yeah. She didn’t believe me. I left their house soon as I could get ready.”

Jordan sank back on his heels. “Wow, I’m not sure I could’ve done that.”

“Yeah, you could’ve, if that’s what you knew was going to keep happening to you. Please, Jordan, don’t tell anybody I’m here.”

He never kept big stuff like this from his mom. But what if the girl was telling the truth? What if he told and was responsible for that happening to her again? “You can’t hide out here forever.”

“I know. But I can stay a while. There’s food and water here. And I make a fire at night.”

“You can’t anymore. My mom got a whiff of smoke that day she came here. You’ll give yourself away.”

“Shit.”

“Is there any camping equipment that doesn’t need electricity here? Most farmers have it.”

Her face perked up. “Yeah. Grandma had a camping stove. And a lantern, too. Maybe you could bring me kerosene.” When he didn’t respond, she eyed him carefully. “I’ve got a lot of money, Jordan. I’ll give you some to buy me what I need and I’ll pay you to keep quiet.”

“I’d never take money for not telling!”

“Oh. Most people would.”

“Not most people around here. How did you get so much money, anyway?”

“I had a lot in a bank account that my mother set up for me to be able to take out myself. She said it taught me fiscal responsibility. And I hocked some jewelry my rich grandparents gave me at a pawn shop in the Village.”

“Jeez.”

“Like I said, it’s enough to stay here for a while. Or to go somewhere else if you snitch on me.”

“Won’t they search for you at the farm?”

“No. My grandparents put it in trust for me without my mother knowing, so I could have it when I was eighteen.”

“Did you come here a lot?”

“Yeah. My mom and dad got divorced and he moved back here to live with his parents to help out with the farm. I visited all the time. Then after he died, she sent me here once in a while to get rid of me. There’s no reason for her to think I’d come to the farm because I told her I hated it.”

“Okay, I guess I won’t tell. No, I promise I won’t.”

“For nothing?”

“Maybe I could visit you here. Hide out with you. I, um, could stay today. I don’t have to be home until six.”

She smiled real bright. “That’d be great. I’m kind of lonely.”

He pointed to the sketch book. “You draw?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I write.”

“Cool. I don’t show my stuff to anybody.”

“Me either. We could do it together. You draw, I’ll write.”

“Want something to eat first?”

“Mom says my stomach is a bottomless pit.”

She got up, but he held her back. “You can tell me your name now, since you told me all that stuff about your stepfather.”

“It’s Darcy.”

He held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Darcy.”

After they shook, she led him to the kitchen. He’d be in a lot of trouble if his mother ever found out where he was, but helping Darcy was right. What that guy did to her was disgusting. She needed a friend. Besides, she made him feel funny, but funny good. Jordan decided spending time with her would be worth the problems it would cause him if they got caught. An adventure like this didn’t come along often in Bergen, so he was going to take advantage of this one.