Page 75 - My FlipBook

T R A I L O F C R U M B S

tiny bud of relief. Their dad had left. They hadn’t wanted him
to, but he had. So if that meant Elgin Doyle kicked them out,
or phoned the police or social services or whatever people did
when parents left, that’s what would happen.
Ash found her scrubbing refrigerator shelves the next
morning.
“What are you doing?” he asked. “I thought we were
going to the library today.”

“No. We need to talk to Elgin and get that over with. I just
didn’t want to go too early and wake him up.”
“Old people always get up early, Greta.”
“I don’t know about this one. The only time I hear him is
during the night.”
Ash watched her for a minute before lighting the oven.
Then he pulled out the crisper drawers and rinsed them in

the kitchen sink. Condiments—the only color in the stark
fridge.
They waited until noon to climb the staircase between
the two suites and knock on the door to Elgin’s suite. Greta
positioned herself slightly in front of Ash, prepared to do the
talking. They knocked again. No answer.
“Maybe he’s still sleeping,” Greta said.
“How do we know when this man sleeps? Let’s try the
doorbell.”

They walked around to the front of the house and rang
the doorbell. As Greta raised her hand to ring it again, the
floor behind the door creaked. She cleared her throat and
clasped her hands in front of her.

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