red hill - jamie mcguire

Chapter Eleven
Scarlet
THE HOUSES SURROUNDING ANDREW’S WERE dark and abandoned like the others. I walked across the
street, devoid of cars and people. The incline of Andrew’s driveway made me feel like I was
trudging up a steep mountain face after the stretch I’d just sprinted. Careful not to let my shoes crunch
too loudly against the gravel beneath them, I took gentle steps and paused at the gate. It whined as I
pushed through it, and I slowly walked the ten steps or so to Andrew’s back door. I’d only traveled
this patch of earth a handful of times since Andrew had moved in.
After the divorce, he could no longer afford the two-story fixer-upper we’d purchased in the next
town over and moved to the converted two-bedroom, former duplex. It was literally on the wrong
side of the tracks, nestled deep in the west side of Anderson, where a meth-lab raid was not
uncommon.
Andrew was humbled by the move and the divorce, and he surprised us all during his visitation
weekends. Slowly the yelling stopped. The bullying was replaced with short bursts of mild
annoyance or long sighs. I wasn’t sure if being away from the girls for most of the month helped to
quell his rages, or if it was my absence that offered him peace.
I climbed the two steps to Andrew’s back door, and tapped on the Plexiglas on the top half of the
door. A curtain hid the inside from view. I tapped again, then tried to turn the knob. It was locked.
My heart pounded so hard in anticipation that I could feel it in my throat.
The windows on each side of the house and the one beside the front door were locked, too. I
slapped the dining room window with my hand. “Andrew! Jenna! Halle It’s Mommy! Are you here”
Nothing.
I pressed my ear to the glass and listened. The silence triggered tears, and my bottom lip quivered.
I leaned in harder, the coldness of the window offsetting the burning sensation the pressure ignited
throughout my ear. My eyes clenched shut as I silently begged someone inside to relieve my fears.
Finally, I pulled away from the window, looking down the street. A tear welled up and broke free,
sliding down my cheek. I wiped it, and as I did, my elbow bumped into the glass. Without a second
thought, I reared back and let my elbow make contact with the glass a second time, the corner of my
bones an extension of all the frustration and fear pulsing through my body. The window shattered. It
wasn’t as loud as I thought it would be. Large chunks broke off, some falling inside the dining room,
and some at my feet.
“Andrew” I whispered loudly.
After pulling myself inside, I searched every room, every closet, every corner of the house.
Something wasn’t right, though. The girls’ jackets weren’t crumpled on the floor, their drawers