Finding Stefanie Read Free Page B

rearview mirror, with two kid sisters who looked at him as if he might be the bogeyman.
    They would be a family again—didn’t they see that? Even Macey didn’t seem to understand—yet not only was she old enough at fifteen to comprehend responsibility, she’d also been the one to spring this crazy idea. Maybe she hadn’t believed that he’d takeher suggestion seriously. Maybe her letters had simply been dreams scrawled in desperation. Maybe she believed that he’d abandon her again, the last in a painful line of liars.
    But Gideon refused to believe that one drop of his father’s blood might be in him, and he’d proven it by doing everything Macey had begged of him. Not only that, but he’d gotten them out of Rapid City, out of the shelter, out of the cycle of foster homes, street living, and hunger.
    Gideon turned off the highway and headed west. He glanced at the gas gauge, gripped the wheel of the old Impala wagon he’d boosted, and scanned the darkening land for shelter. He supposed they could sleep in the car, but the way the wind had kicked up, throwing frozen tumbleweeds across the road, he’d prefer shelter. And a fire. And something nourishing in their stomachs.
    At least for Haley. . . . He glanced in the rearview mirror at the way she curled into a tiny grubby ball inside a red Goodwill winter jacket two sizes too large for her. One of her pigtails had fallen out, lending her a forlorn, lopsided look. And her eyes screamed hunger. But she didn’t speak. Hadn’t spoken one word since they left the shelter.
    Yep, he was the bogeyman.
    “We’re going to be okay,” he said, because it seemed like the right thing to say. Now that he was eighteen and out of the detention center, wasn’t it his responsibility to care for his sisters?
    He refused to hear his father’s mockery behind his thoughts. Yes, he was going to take care of them. Build them all a place to live. A safe place where they didn’t have to hide at night. Where their world wasn’t punctuated by cries or people yelling. By Haley’s tears.
    Gideon’s hands, cold as they were, whitened on the steering wheel. His sweatshirt would make poor insulation tonight. He had given his jacket to Macey—she hadn’t thought beyond her backpack and shoes when she’d seen him drive up to the emergency foster shelter. She’d just grabbed Haley and run.
    Haley had finally stopped crying when they hit the Montana border.
    Things would change now, for all of them. He’d make them change.
    “Where are we going?” Macey said or rather mumbled into the collar of his jacket. “I’m hungry.”
    “I know that,” he snapped.
    She flinched, then glared at him.
    Gideon clenched his jaw, wishing that had come out differently. He wouldn’t be like their father— wouldn’t.
    “I’ll stop soon,” he said, now softer. He’d turned off the highway five miles back, following a sign for a town, hoping for a McDonald’s. But as he slowed, those hopes were dashed by the sight of the one-horse rinky-dink spot on the map they’d limped into. A couple of feed stores, a tire shop, a bar, and an old diner that looked like the throwaway back end of a train.
    He pulled up just beyond the lights that splashed against the sidewalk. “Stay here,” he said, putting the car into park. “I’ll be right back.”
    In the backseat, Haley sat up, her eyes huge. But still, she said nothing.
    Macey, too, watched him.
    “I’ll be right back,” he repeated.
    Macey gave a stiff nod.
    The aroma of hamburgers and french fries made Gideon’s empty stomach knot as he shut the door. A trail along the back of the diner led to a row of trash cans and a trailer home. He stood there, staring at the dark windows of the trailer, then at the diner.
    Just one more time. Because he had to. Just . . .
    He took a deep breath, then crept toward the trailer.
    Small towns were easy—people here trusted each other, and he justified himself with the argument that people who left