Page 112 of Their Little Ghost

“Oh, shit!” Laurie chuckles. “Someone’s in trouble.”

Dad gets out of the car and marches over with a face like thunder.

“Sarah!” he yells. “Your sister told me I’d find you here. What part of ‘you’re grounded’ don’t you understand?”

Fucking Erin. Why can’t she keep her mouth shut?

“The staying in the house part, it seems,” I reply sarcastically.

“Get in the car,” he orders through gritted teeth. A vein in his temple pulses. I wonder whether it’s possible for someone’s head to combust and what his brains would look like sprayed everywhere. “Right now.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine.”

I’m not in the party mood anymore, anyway.

I stomp away, leaving him trailing behind. It’s not the first time he’s shown up at a party uninvited. I slam the car door closed and cross my arms with a huff.

“You can save your breath,” I say when he slides in next to me. “I get it. I’m a disappointment.”

“You’ve been drinking,” he states as we drive away.

“So?” I counter. “You’re moving me away from all my friends soon. Aren’t I allowed a little celebration?”

“You’re not twenty-one.”

“Who waits until twenty-one to drink?” I roll my eyes. “Don’t you remember being a teenager? This is normal. You don’t see other parents showing up.”

“That’s because their parents don’t care what happens to them.”

“Don’t pretend you care about me,” I snap. “All you care about is your precious fucking reputation.”

Dad slams on the brakes, jolting us forward.

“I should sue you for whiplash,” I mutter, rubbing my neck dramatically.

“That’s it,” he says, hitting the gas. “I’ve had enough.”

Usually, Dad sticks religiously to the speed limit. Now, he hurtles around corners like a rally driver. I’d give him kudos if it wasn’t dark and scary as shit.

“Where are we going?” I ask, clinging to my seat.

He ignores me as we set off toward Pasturesville.

Maybe I’ve pushed Daddy dearest too far this time.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-THREE

AIDEN

A woman’shigh-pitched wail interrupts the whirring of machines that runs constantly in this empty part of the building, making us halt. We’re on one of our usual midnight excursions to map the vents and plan our imminent escape. Below us, the rooms are reserved for storage. No one should be in them, especially at this hour.

“Is it a new subject?” Eli asks.

It’s unusual for Acacia to admit someone new at night. Normally, it takes all day to check them in. They’re forced to parade around in front of doctors and undergo many tests. Some don’t even make it until sunset.

“I don’t think so,” I reply.