rose, threatening to take over; no Tad. If the thing from the basement got a hold of him –
“Where’s Tad?” she asked the dog. He cocked his head.
Still standing on the porch, Keira held her hand up to her face, shielding her eyes as she stared across the fields. No moment. If Tad was hiding again, there were a million places he could be.
Her eye turned to the barn, following the ridgepole and watched the weathervane spin idly. What if he fell from the hayloft – or was crushed beneath the equipment piled up inside? She’d been meaning to clean it up, but –
Suddenly the weathervane burst into rapid movement, spinning wildly, its blades sliced through the air.
Like it knows something, she thought.
The crunch of gravel beneath tires ca...
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