Zipper snarled, then dashed straight at the shadow man.
“Zipper!” Zack yelled. “Don’t! Come back here!”
Zipper didn’t listen; he nipped at the shadow man’s ankles.
“Stupid dog! I’ll cut off your ears!” The shadow man pulled out a knife and slashed at the air, but his wild flailing didn’t scare Zipper, who kept lunging at his rolled-up pants cuffs.
“Zipper!” Zack heard sirens and blaring air horns as fire trucks raced up the road from town.
“Finish the job!”
The preacher and the creepy Bible campers were stumbling down the hill from the cemetery. Beyond them, behind the wrought iron fence, Zack saw other people he didn’t recognize. Dead people.
“I’ll get you, boy!” the shadow man screamed.
Zack was surrounded.
“Get in.”
He whipped around and saw the old lady’s Cadillac idling in the middle of the highway. The chauffeur leaned out his window.
“Get in, boy. Now!”
The rear window scrolled down.
“Hop in, dearie,” the old lady said from the backseat, trying hard to smile. “We’re your only hope. It appears that demon spirits everywhere are crawling out of their graves to get at you!”
“No,” Zack said.
“You shouldn’t have torched my stump, kid!” Up the highway, the greasy-haired ghoul was limping toward them. “You’re a Jennings, ain’t you, boy? You and me got unfinished business!”
“Get in the car, boy!” said the old driver. “Hurry!”
Far in the distance Zack saw Judy reeling around underneath the blinking red beacon.
“Zack?” she cried out. “Where are you? Zack! Zack!” She sounded mad.
Madder than my real mom ever got.
Zack ran to the Cadillac. It seemed his only choice. He had to run away. The old lady had a car.
Miss Spratling yanked the door shut behind him. “Mr. Willoughby? Drive!”
The chauffeur piloted the car down the center of the highway. When they reached the crossroads, the man with the slicked-back hair was gone. Zipper looked fine. A little dazed and confused, but fine.
“My, my, my—isn’t that your stepmother?” the old lady whispered. “Does she know how much you like to play with matches?”
Zack slid down so Judy couldn’t see him but he could see her.
She was crying.
She isn’t mad. She’s crying!
Zack sprang up.
“Be still, boy!”
Zack went to pound on the tinted window, but the old woman caught his arm.
“I said be still!”
“Let me out, you old witch!”
Zack tugged on the door handle. It wouldn’t budge.
“Let me out!”
“I will do no such thing. You, young man, must now pay for the sins of your fathers!”
Judy’s legs quaked. She couldn’t find Zack. Her new house was burning down. George was on the other side of the globe. Gerda Spratling’s creepy old Cadillac had just cruised up the road. She heard sirens. Fire trucks. Police.
And Zipper kept barking at her.
“What is it?”
Zipper ran up the road about twenty yards, stopped, and turned around. Barked.
“You want me to follow you?”
Zipper barked what had to be a “yes” and flew up the highway toward the graveyard. Judy followed. They ran all the way to the cemetery. Zipper barked louder, stood up on his hind legs, tried to scale the fence. Judy saw a baseball cap stuck on top of a railing. Zack’s Mets cap!
She understood.
Zack had been in the graveyard again. Why? Maybe a dead farmer named Davy had lured him there.
No. Davy didn’t want to hurt Zack. If he wanted to do that, he would have done it days ago.
Maybe Zack came here to hide, like he did the other night when the plumber was after them.
Okay. But hide from whom?
What if Zack was the one who started the fire? Then he’d be hiding from me!
She looked back toward the house. The firefighters were spraying water on the house, the garage, and that big stump in the backyard.
Looks like he destroyed Miss Spratling’s descanso, too….
The creepy old Cadillac!
“Judy?” Sheriff Hargrove came hiking up the cemetery hill behind her.
“We need to talk to Zack,” he said.
“She has him!”
“Who?”
“Gerda Spratling.”
“I’m afraid Miss Spratling has stepped out,” Sharon said to the crowd gathered outside the door.
“We know,” Judy said. “She stepped out to kidnap my son!”
Judy hadn’t called George. Not yet. What good would it do? She was the one who had to find Zack. Fast.
“We’d like to look around,” Hargrove said to Sharon.
“What is all this commotion?”
Gerda Spratling, dressed in her gauzy wedding gown, waltzed into the foyer.
Zipper barked.
“Kindly remove that vile creature from these premises.”
“The dog stays,” said Hargrove. “We need him to help us search your house.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Am I allowed to ask why?”
“My stepson is missing!”
“Really? Did you misplace him, dearie? My, my, my. How careless.”
“Miss Spratling?” said Hargrove. “We need to search your house. We need to do so immediately.”
“I saw you,” Judy said to Spratling. “I saw your car.”
“Where?”
“In the crossroads. You were there tonight!”
“Of course I was, dearie. I heard some young pyromaniac was attempting to destroy my roadside memorial. Tell me, Sheriff Hargrove: Has the fire department done their duty?”
He nodded. “The fire has been contained.”
“Wonderful. Now, then, if you will excuse me…”
“Miss Spratling?” said the sheriff. “Maybe you didn’t hear me. We need to search your house.”
“Oh, I heard you, Sheriff Hargrove. However, I don’t recall hearing you say you had a warrant. Did my dear friend Judge Brockman sign the appropriate papers?”
“Not yet, but he will.”
“Come back when he does. Good night, all.”
When she was certain Miss Spratling had gone to bed, Sharon hurried down the winding cobblestone path to the carriage house.
She couldn’t sleep, not without checking in on her son. All the talk about the missing boy had scared her.
“What is it now?” her mother grumbled when she opened the door.
“I just wanted to be sure Aidan was okay.”
“Aidan? He’s not here. Mr. Willoughby picked him up hours ago.”
“What?”
“He said Miss Spratling had given permission for Aidan to sleep up at the manor house tonight.”
Zack had no idea where he was.
The room was dark and smelled wet—like a basement when it rained.
The old lady, assisted by the even older driver, had tied his hands behind his back with duct tape. Then the old man had looped a heavy bicycle chain through his arms and locked him to some sort of metal pole. The floor he was sitting on was cold and hard.
And the baby was crying.
“Don’t worry, little guy,” Zack whispered. “We’re going to be okay. I promise.”
The baby gurgled. Zack could see a half-empty bottle jammed into the padding of his portable car seat. The baby started kicking. Ready to scream again.
“Hey, have you ever seen the town clock?”
The baby cooed.
“Did you know there used to be monkeys and squirrels inside that clock tower?”
The baby arched his eyebrows.
“Yeah. They’d climb up the gear teeth to get to the nuts up top.”
Zack made a funny face and wiggled his cheeks like he was washing walnuts. The baby giggled. He probably didn’t understand a word Zack was saying, but he seemed to like the silly faces.