"How'd you do that?" he asked.
Tate just shrugged and said, "A woman of many talents."
"You're like a lemur, Tate," Troy said, retrieving the ball from the ditch before climbing up onto the tracks, "but thanks. I wouldn't want to run away without this."
Troy turned to go, but Tate stopped him, and he could see her dark eyes glinting, even in the faintest light. "You just said you 'ran away.' That's what little kids do, not grown men."
"My father was a grown man," Troy said, swatting her hand away. "She says he ran away. I guess I'm like him. Anyway, I want to find him. If she doesn't want me, I can go live with him."
CHAPTER SEVEN
" WHOA," SHE SAID. "I know you took some shots in that game, but I didn't know it scrambled your brains completely."
"Why couldn't I?" Troy asked. "He seemed like a good guy."
"Troy, you met the man for about three minutes," Tate said.
"He had a pretty nice car," Troy said, then quickly added, "and he got into Cotton Wood because he said he had a client there. He must be pretty legit to have a client in Cotton Wood. Those people are all rich."
"You know what I'm saying," Tate said, stopping on the tracks. "Where are we going, Troy?"
"I don't know," Troy said. "The bridge?"
"It's pitch-black," Tate said with a shiver. "And it's cold. I don't want to go far. You should go home. Really, you can't just run away. Think about it. I know you're mad. I know you want to see your dad."
"I will see my dad," Troy said.
Tate nodded her head. "I think so, too."
"You do?"
"Yes," Tate said. "He's your dad, Troy. He looks like you, and if he acts anything like you at all, then he's not just going to disappear. But you go home now, Troy. Trust me."