“That’s not how this works. If you’re there, you’re there. Nothing halfway, right?”

Hunter nodded. “Right.”

“This is a different surveillance case.” His father flipped open the file folder. “These aren’t full-blown Elementals causing major problems.”

“Then . . . what are they?” Hunter reached for the file, but his dad snapped it closed.

“They’re teenagers. Your age. They haven’t come into their full powers yet.”

“So it’s safer—”

“No.” His dad laughed, but there wasn’t any humor about it.

“There’s nothing safe about this one. Not from what I’m reading. These could be four of the most powerful Elementals to surface in years.”

“What have they done?”

“I don’t know yet. There are conflicting reports about deaths and threats and . . . hell, I can barely wrap my head around what’s going on in that town. But really, Hunter, it’s not about what they’ve done.”

“What’s it about?”

His dad leaned back in his chair. “It’s about what they can do.”

Hunter stared at him.

“Say I agreed, and I took you along as a decoy. You’re a teenager; you could fit right in.” He glanced in the file again. “Your mom’s folks even live right in the area. We wouldn’t have to think of an excuse for you to be there.”

“Yes,” said Hunter. “Yes. I’ll do it.”

“And what if you determined they were as powerful as these reports say? Could you kill them?”

Could he kill complete strangers? “If they were using their powers to hurt people, I would do what I had to.”

“What if they’re not using their powers to harm anyone?” said his father. “What if they’re good kids? Boy Scouts? What if they help people?”

Hunter swallowed. “Then . . . why would you kill them?”

His father smiled, a little sadly. “You’re not ready.”

“But—”

“Enough, Hunter. We have work to do.” He lost the smile. “And if I catch you spying again, you’re not going to like the results. Do you understand me?”

Hunter walked out and slammed the door behind him—before realizing he was probably driving his father’s points about immaturity home.

He went back to the kitchen and grabbed his backpack. He should probably put the weapons back before he got in trouble for that, too. He slammed the door to the basement, too, wanting to punch a hole in the drywall. He jammed the key into the gun locker door and punched the buttons, practically breaking a finger in his fury.

Only when he reached into his bag was he careful. He pulled the zipper free on the table and looked inside.

Then he kept on looking.

One gun and a fully loaded magazine were missing.

CHAPTER 4

Hunter wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like. The bag had been sitting in the corner of the kitchen all evening. Unless someone had broken in and stolen the gun in the last hour—while there was a police dog lying on the mat in front of the sink—then he’d either left the gun in the clearing or Clare had taken it.

He had no idea why Clare, someone who was obviously afraid of firearms, would take the weapon.

But he knew he hadn’t left a fully loaded handgun lying in the grass, either.

If his father found out, he was so dead.

He grabbed the cell phone out of his pocket—just as he realized he’d never gotten her number.

Like she’d answer. What would he say? “Did you maybe accidentally take a gun from my bag?”

Hunter ran a hand through his short hair and tried not to panic.

How. Could he. Have let. This happen.

His father’s stupid comment kept running through his head.

You’re about to teach yourself a lesson a lot more effectively than I ever could.

Or his uncle’s: Use them before they use you.

It didn’t make any sense. Clare didn’t seem like the type.

God, what did he know about types?

He needed to figure out a solution. Otherwise he might as well just load the remaining handgun and shoot himself.

No. He could handle this. First, he needed to get out of the gun locker before his dad realized he was down here and decided to come see what was going on.

Hunter locked the room. He almost put the remaining gun away, but if Clare had totally played him and was some kind of marksman, he didn’t want to go facing her unarmed.

Marksman. Who was he kidding? He’d felt her hand tremble on his wrist when he’d fired that first shot.

Why would she take a gun?

Hunter went back to his bedroom and logged on to Facebook. Clare wasn’t his friend, but maybe he could find her cell phone number.

No cell number. No address. Her status message was set to public, and it was last updated two days ago. The cafeteria macaroni and cheese doesn’t actually include cheese. I read the ingredients!!!

Seriously. Like there was any chance it would say I stole a handgun from Hunter Garrity this afternoon! He can totally find me at 123 Main Street!

Uncle Jay was a cop. He could find out where she lived.

Yeah, and his dad said he’d be pissed if he caught Hunter spying again.

Why the hell hadn’t he offered to walk her home this afternoon?

Wait a minute. What had she said yesterday?

I live on the other side of the dairy farm.