Chapter 35
Scooter was coming down the stairs from his most recent check on Jason, where he might have malingered for longer than he should have, because avoiding work was a thing fourteen-year-old Scooter Stahl was getting damn good at. Halfway down, he heard a noise, unfamiliar, from the alley between the main building and the separate garage, where the trash bins cluttered up the walkway and Scooter’s bike often was left sprawled.
It was a deep, guttural sort of groan, followed by a breathy whisper. “God, Chris…”
Scooter crept the rest of the way down the stairs, a strange, urgent panic pounding in his chest that tightened at his stomach and tingled against his scalp. He pressed up against the wall, listening, hands clenched.