Cut to me, Mikey, and the transient woman standing outside of the dilapidated house and watching as a fiery trail of gasoline ignited the front porch, engulfing the ancient wood almost immediately. The woman looked at Mikey and then me as she said, “Thanks for not, like, burning me alive too even though I set you guys up and everything.”
Mikey let out a somber chuckle and replied, “We know you didn’t have a choice.”
I assumed the fire had reached the ceiling of the den by that point because we could hear Mr. Twisted cry out in what was surely an inhuman amount of pain. I turned to the woman and said, “That reminds me. I have a few more questions about Jeb I was hoping you could answer. Was this the house he was living in when he disappeared?”
She nodded. “Yeah. His dad moved them here after his mom killed herself.”
Mikey pointed at me and said, “THAT’S why it didn’t match the address in the school records.”
“And one more, his hideout… Did he ever tell you what he called it?”
“Yeeeah,” She said, as if recalling a very old memory for the first time in a long while. “He let me play that game he’d made during typing class. It was called the same thing… Something Hill.”
