The Hole in the Wall - Lisa Rowe Fraustino [73]
“Good idea,” said Ma, handing him the keys. “Which way are we going?”
“Left,” said Grum quickly from the passenger seat. “Just get on the interstate and drive.”
“I vote for that. Get as many miles between us and that blankety-blank gore as possible.” (That was Pa.)
“Let’s decide on a place to meet,” said Jed. “In case we get separated.”
“How about that campground we used to go to on Lake Exton?” suggested Ma. “Assuming Boots doesn’t blow up the whole county. If that happens, where we meet is a moot point.”
“Granted,” said Jed. “See you at the lake. Or in the next life.”
“Pray for good weather!” Grum hollered out the passenger window as the SUV took off down the driveway.
Me and Barbie climbed into the truck. The cat sat on Jed’s lap with his head out the window. Jed adjusted the seat from where Ma had left it, turned with a grin, and gave us the ol’ Daniels eyebrow.
“Uh-oh,” said Barbie. “Why do I think I’m not gonna like this?”
“You two ready to see a show?” said Jed.
I grinned and browed him back. “You didn’t say when we’d meet them at the lake.”
Jed waited until the SUV had driven out of sight. Then he turned right toward Kettle Ridge. He parked at the top facing the gore like a giant drive-in movie screen. Which it kind of was, for us, since we were watching everything on the edge of our seats and wanting to know what would happen next.
From here the heaving ground looked almost alive, as if a giant insect lay underneath and was trying to break free from its cocoon. The ORC Onion, which wasn’t normally visible at night, glowed with swirling colors and shadows. A line of vehicles slowly moved along the Gash toward town, their headlights like strings of polka dots.
While we waited for something else to happen, Jed stroked Stupid’s head until the cat flopped over onto his back and offered his belly. “Good boy,” Jed said. “I sure missed you all these months, Dawg.”
“You mean he wasn’t with you?” Barbie asked in surprise. “He disappeared when you did, and just showed up again Thursday.”
Jed had petted away a good size hairball by now. He flicked it out the window. It drifted and caught on the windshield wiper, looking just like the hairballs caught on the chair legs in Miss Beverly’s kitchen. It made me wonder. “Jed, was your cat at the Odum’s?”
He looked impressed. “How’d you figure that out, Sherlock?”
I explained about the chair legs. “Plus there was a picture of him on Odum’s screen saver in his workshop. Hey, that really was your handwriting in the poodle joke, wasn’t it!”
He grinned. “Stan likes my handwriting,” he said. “I’ve seen that image you’re talking about. It’s called Arnold’s Cat Map and it has something to do with one of Stan’s theories about how adrium works. But it’s not Fluffy Kitty in the picture—it just looks a lot like him.”
“Wait, back up, how did your cat wind up at the Odum’s?” Barbie wanted to know.
“When the goons found me, Fluffy Kitty was sitting on my chest and meowing. He followed them all the way to the Onion. Stan took him home to keep him safe inside the house and to keep Miss Beverly company. But he got out one day last week, and he must have found his way home. Good thing he didn’t get into the adrium.”
“He somehow knows to avoid that stuff,” I said.
“Jed’s Smart Cat,” said Barbie with a smile.
“Oh, yeah, something else I’ve been wanting to ask you. How did you know about the dough in my stomach?”
“Miss Beverly tells Stan everything. Usually at least twice.”
Duh! Of course. Miss Beverly was the only one outside the family who knew about it. If I’d thought of that combined with the other clues in the workshop, I might have figured out that there was some connection between Jed and Boots Odum.
Just then sirens started wailing in town, blending ominously with the music of the spheres. “Whoa,” I said. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“Jed, are you sure we’re safe here?” Barbie asked.
“Can’t say I am. But if the explosion takes out this whole solid ridge, then we wouldn’t have been