Part 15 (2/2)

Two feet away now. One and a half.

My heart threatened to explode out of my chest. Mike's dad wasn't going anywhere. And if I didn't get rid of him, I was going to watch him die right here.

That's exactly right, Cooper, the well whispered. You'll watch him die. Maybe help me kill him. Won't that be a sweet thing for us to do together?

And then it laughed and muttered something I couldn't hear.

As if on orders, the vine people broke apart, paper dolls becoming individuals now, their branch arms swinging up and out, reaching for both of us. I didn't need a freakin' crystal ball to know the next sixty seconds.

Their stick fingers were going to wrap around Sergeant Ring's skull, squeeze into the soft flesh, and press until his head exploded, blasting his brains outward like an overly ripe grape. He'd never pop another Bud again, never sit in Mike's living room again.

And it would be all my fault. I couldn't live with that. I couldn't watch it.

Then a thought hit me. If Sam was a part of this, there was only one place he could keep everything hidden from me, Faulkner, my mother, and the world.

”I know where my stepfather keeps his secrets,” I said quickly, reaching for Sergeant Ring's sleeve, pulling him a foot closer a lot harder than I intended-or probably should have. Surprise lit his eyes. Oh c.r.a.p. Don't arrest me now, dude. ”It's in the winery. You know, where all the wine is.”

The vine army took a stutter-step, as if they, too, were surprised by my move, but faster than frat boys chugging a keg they were on the move again, their arms out, their mouths-not really mouths, but something like mouths, formed out of tangles of sticks and twigs-yawning and hungry.

”Wine?” Sergeant Ring said. Apparently I was speaking his language.

”Yeah, lots of it. But we have to go now. Before Sam gets back from the hospital.”

Let him go, Cooper. Let me have him. I'm hungry.

Aren't you?

Disgust rolled inside me. I wanted to scream but knew that would just make Mike's dad suspicious and he'd probably haul me off to jail. Every second he stood there seemed to drag on like an endless algebra cla.s.s.

The well whispered something else I couldn't hear. Then I knew why. It was talking to them-to the vine people.

In answer, the vines reached out, and their hands just barely brushed against Sergeant Ring's back. He s.h.i.+fted, as if he'd felt it, but then jerked his sleeve out of my grip. ”This better be about more than just some merlot, Cooper, or I'll drag you down to the station for a.s.saulting a police officer.”

”Yeah, it will be.” I started walking fast, praying he'd do the same. He did.

A shriek cut through the woods. The well. p.i.s.sed I was taking its prize away. I glanced at Mike's dad, but he had no reaction on his face, no sign he'd heard anything at all.

And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the vine army. They had turned to one another as if they were com municating. I gripped the strap of my backpack tighter. We needed to get the h.e.l.l out of the woods.

Now.

”If you want to get into the vineyard's offices, we better get a move on,” I said, digging for some lies. ”Like Indy Five Hundred speed. Because if Sam catches you in there, he'll shut you down in a heartbeat, and you don't want to be going to all the ha.s.sle of a search warrant, do you?”

He shot me a grin. ”How much TV you watch, kid?”

I looked behind me and saw the vines had stopped their whispering.

They had broken apart, and now their twig feet were spinning, spinning, spinning, gathering speed.

I didn't bother to answer. I broke into a run and prayed he'd keep up. He let out a ”hey,” and then a second later, there was a thud of footsteps behind me.

Please let those be cop feet and not something else.

The creature shrieked again, sounding like twenty vultures going after a pile of roadkill. I wanted to look back, wanted to know where that evil army was, but I was afraid if I took even one second to slow down, it would be the second the well needed.

The woods crackled with activity, but I ignored the growing webs of green spinning into the trees, the whispers of hundreds of running evil grapevines-turned-army-men.

Mike's dad huffed and puffed behind me. ”Cooper, this isn't a track meet. Slow down.”

Fifty feet ahead of us the Jumel vineyard lay in perfect alignment. The well might be able to reach that far, but somehow I doubted it would dare send its crazy nature guys into the exposed rows of grapes. ”Just a little farther.”

Mike's dad grunted but kept up with me. Apparently the wine incentive was enough. Finally we hit the bright light s.h.i.+ning over the vineyard. In my head, I heard the angry shrieks of the creature. Then it began to laugh.

Next time, Cooper. You won't win.

I glanced over my shoulder. The army of vines had locked arms again and lined the perimeter of the woods.

Waiting.

I swallowed hard. I might have gotten away this time, but I had to face them again and soon-because Megan was still in there somewhere and I would fight whatever I had to if it meant getting her back.

”Now that you've got me here, you better show me something spectacular,” Mike's dad said.

We'd come in the back and now stood in the center of the bottling line, a busy room with a dumping station, a bottle cleaner, a filler, a corker, and a labeler, everything moving along a series of conveyor belts that kept whirring at a constant pace. The remaining workers-who knew better than to stop for anything short of an earthquake-barely looked up when the uniform and I walked in.

”Cooper?” Mike's dad prodded, impatient.

I'd been inside the winery only a couple of times and had barely paid attention. And I'd forgotten about one particular detail-until Sergeant Ring had started mentioning all that stuff about dead babies and missing workers.

”Over here.” We headed through the production areas, past the offices, then into the fancy tasting room. A ma.s.sive circular oak bar took up nearly the entire s.p.a.ce, with wine bottles and gla.s.ses lining the mirrored wall behind it. Sam had had people in here giving the tasting room a serious spit and polish every day for a week, even though the place already shone like a prom date, all part of his perfectionist's attention to detail. There was even a hand-lettered sign on the bar that said KEEP OUT OF TASTING ROOM. READIED FOR VINEYARDS 200TH ANNIVERSARY PARTY. ORDERS OF SAM JUMEL.

If I was caught in here, I'd be dead.

”Don't tell me you dragged me all the way back here for a wild-goose chase.”

”Uh, course not.” I took in a deep breath and charged forward, sliding around the bar and past the wine bottles to the side of the mirror. I wasn't even sure I was in the right place-I'd seen Sam enter this room once, when he'd had me sweeping up the winery and I had taken a break to do some sneaking around on my own. I remembered Sam had pulled open the mirror, moving the whole wall out to reveal a door. I knew if something was hidden behind a mirror, it was bound to be important. I slid my fingers along the edge.

Nothing happened.

”Cooper?”

”Give me a second.” The latch had to be here somewhere. I rose on my toes, slid my fingers down again.

Nothing.

I looked at the shelves, hoping for a key. A PUSH HERE sign. Yeah, as if I'd get that lucky.

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