I swiped the screen to read it.

*Marcus is heading toward the gatehouse with a gas can,* the text read.

My breath caught in my throat.

*I’m watching him from the trees,* Blake’s next message said. *Don’t come out here alone.*

I stared at the glowing screen as another text flashed immediately below it.

The second text message was from Aunt Caroline.

*He has the keys to the tractor shed too, please don’t let him do anything crazy.*

I shoved the phone into my pocket and pulled my hood over my head.

I didn’t wait for Blake, and I didn’t stay inside.

The cold rain hit my face like needles the moment I stepped off the back porch.

The wind from the James River was blowing hard, bending the branches of the old oaks.

I squished through the waterlogged grass of the lawn, my boots sinking into the mud.

The beam of my flashlight cut through the gray curtain of rain, showing me the path to the north ridge.

Up ahead, the stone gatehouse looked like a dark tooth against the stormy sky.