Page 71 of Five Survive

“I don’t get it,” Oliver said, dropping down on the closest booth. “There must be.”

“We’ve literally ransacked the entire RV,” Simon said.

Oliver shushed him.

“What?” Simon doubled down. “There’s nothing. We’ve checked.”

“Maddy?” Oliver called to the front, where Maddy was clutching something in her hands, a small rectangular piece of paper, eyes narrowed and thinking as they flicked across it. “What have you got there?”

“Well, not what we were looking for,” she answered, holding it up. It was a photograph.

She brought it over, holding it out for the others. There was a family of five pictured there, huddled together on green summer grass, arms looping in and out of each other’s, a golden retriever mid–tail wag. The man had gray hair and a bright smile, and his wife and threedaughters looked near identical with matching burnt-auburn hair, the same person in four different stages of life, only changed by time.

“This isn’t your uncle, is it?” she asked Simon. “I thought he didn’t have a family, though. You said he was a loner.”

Simon took the photograph, a muscle working in his cheek as he chewed his tongue. “No, that’s not him. He’s not married, no kids.”

Maddy’s face scrunched, the look in her eyes replaced with something new, something uneasy. An edge to her voice as she asked: “So why does your uncle have a photo of someone else’s family in the glove compartment?”

Simon passed the photograph of the happy red-haired family back, not taking a second look.

“I don’t know,” he said, voice spiking higher, betraying him. He was supposed to be a better liar than that.

“Simon?” Maddy asked.

“I don’t know,” Simon repeated. “Do you know all the stuff your weird uncle gets up to?”

“We don’t have a weird uncle,” she snapped back. “Is he, like, a stalker, or something?”

“No,” Simon said, though he hadn’t leaned into the word like he fully believed it. “No, no, no. Look, I’m sure the RV is just secondhand. Maybe he bought it from that family and neither of them ever cleared out the glove compartment.”

“That makes sense,” Maddy conceded. “So why are you being weird about it?”

“I’m not being weird.”

“Yes you are.”

“Maddy,” Red warned.

“Simon.” So did Arthur.

“It’s nothing, really.” Simon wiped his forehead with the back ofhis hand, droplets of sweat by his temples. “Just…well, my uncle owns a used-car dealership, right? That’s why he had an RV we could use. But, and you know, this is not as bad as it’s going to sound…” Simon trailed off, clearing his throat. “What I mean is, I’m not sure his business is strictly legal, if you catch my—”

“Stolen?” Oliver barked suddenly. “Your uncle sells stolen cars?”

“Maybe.” Simon held his hands up in surrender, taking a step back.

“Maybe?” Oliver demanded.

“Well, n-no, definitely, actually,” Simon stammered. “I know because I, well, I helped him once. Couple of times. Few times. Run some scams. Apparently I have a trustworthy face. Good liar when I need to be. Acting is just lying, after all, isn’t it?”

Maddy gasped. “Simon, you’ve stolen cars?”

“No.” He shook his head, pointing his index fingers at her. “I’ve helped. There’s a difference.”

“Why would you do that?” Maddy stared him down, breathing hard.

“Oh come on, why d’you think?” Simon retorted. “I needed the money.”