Free Music Box (The Dollhouse Books, #4) by Anya Allyn Page A

shuffles the kids behind her.
    “So,” says Jack, “You finally show us who you are.”
    “Not yet I haven’t,” I tell Jack. Turning, I motion behind me. The boys run out, their eyes huge.
    “What’s going on?” Deandra says sharply.
    I twist the pipe into Rory’s back, raising my eyes to Jack and Deandra. “All I ask is a few minutes of your time. I want you to come back inside, and sit and listen.”
    Jack’s mouth sets into a grim line. “Let the soldier go, Ethan. You’re not helping yourself.”
    I look down at the two boys. “Do you want me to let the soldier go?”
    They shake their heads.
    “Why don’t you want me to let him go?” I ask them.
    “He’s not a soldier.” The eldest boy speaks with a fierceness that defies his age.
    “Kids,” I tell Sam and Tommy, “these people here are a family I traveled with from Canada. They’re good people, but they don’t understand what’s really happening here. So I want you to tell them. They shot your parents, because your parents knew too much, didn’t they?”
    Sam nods silently. The little one starts crying.
    “Where’re you kids from?” I ask Sam.
    “Milwaukee,” he answers.
    “And how did you get here?”
    “Lots of people were hiding out at my school. But the trucks came and got us.”
    “Why were people hiding out?”
    Sam presses his full lips together, pointing at Rory. “To get away from the bad people.”
    I don’t want to ask the kid any more, but I’m sure he knows more. A lot more.
    Jack and Deandra stare at each other from across the room.
    I order Rory to go sit on a chair. He seats himself heavily on the only chair in the room, surprise dropping into his eyes as he looks over his shoulder and sees me. “You’re a kid.”
    “Maybe. But I’ve been around your type for the past eighteen months. I know you. I know all about you.” His gaze drops to my hands and he sees there’s no gun. “I dunno what’s goin’ on here, but I’m heading back to camp.” He rises clumsily to his feet.
    I walk over and stand in front of the door. “So you can go and tell them there’s some more snake fodder up here? I don’t think so.”
    He nervously neatens his collar and walks toward the door. “Don’t look like these people are on your side. That means I can go.”
    I hear the click of a gun. Deandra has her gun pointed in his direction, but the look on her face is uncertain.
    “Dee, what are you doing?” Jack shakes his head at her. “Put that away.”
    She keeps the weapon raised. “No. Not yet. I don’t know what’s right or wrong here, but I want to hear more.”
    “Dee...” Jack says under his breath. “We can’t do this.”
    Her lips are white. “We’re not hurting anyone. I just want to hear what this person has to say.”
    Jack hesitates for a moment, then gives a tight nod.
    I relax slightly. “Did you hear that, Rory? Sit back down and tell us your story.”
    He looks from me to Deandra, then plods back to the chair. “I dunno anythun’.”
    “How long have you been with them d own there in the camp?” I ask him.
    “’Bout six months or more.”
    “I’m guessing you must have lived somewhere with a big supply of food to hold out that long. What was it—a farm?”
    “Yeah. My family grows corn’n’soybeans—or they did. They had a larder big enough to keep us going.”
    “Where are they now—your family?”
    “Dead. All of ’em.” His expression crumbles. “I was the only one left on the farm.”
    I keep the questions coming—rapid-fire. “Is that why you joined up with those people down there, Rory? Because you had nowhere else to go?”
    He doesn’t answer. Frowning, Jack leans in slightly as he listens.
    “Have you been to the camps in New York City, Rory?”
    He nods dumbly.
    I glance at Jack. “You might want to send the kids into another room right about now.”
    Jack nods at his children. “Kids, you take these boys into that room over there. Just for a little