Trey was still standing there, his mouth agape, his mind struggling to make sense of what he’d seen, when the car he’d ridden in — the car that Nina, Joel, and John were still hiding in — began to inch forward, under the cover of the trees. Trey felt a second of hope: The/re coming to rescue me!
But the car was going in the wrong direction.
Trey stared as the car slid away, just a shadow in the trees, then a black streak on the open road.
Then it was gone.
They left me! Trey’s mind screamed. They left me!
He was all alone on an uncaring man’s porch — an arrested man’s porch? — out in the great wide open where anyone in the world might see him.
Without thinking, Trey dived behind the huge flowerpot, to hide.
Chapter Two
For once, Trey’s instincts had been wise. Seconds later, a whole army of black cars swarmed down the street and onto the Talbots’ property. They overflowed the driveway; the last few cars had to park harum-scarum on the lawn. Peeking daringly over the rim of the huge flowerpot, Trey saw the doors of all the cars opening, and dozens of men in black uniforms spilling out. He ducked down immediately, trying to fit his body in as small a space as possible behind the flowerpot.
You know, it really wasn’t a good idea to grow four inches in the past year, he thought, then marveled that he could think so clearly at a time like this. He pulled his long legs even closer to his body.
Walkie-talkies crackled instructions: “Search the basement.
‘Affirmative.”
“Search the yard.”
Trey began to sweat. What if someone was dispatched to search the porch? He strained to hear every instruction, all at once. He listened for footsteps up to the porch. It wouldn’t take any great observational skills to find Trey. What was he going to do if — no, when — that happened?