a good reason to avoid being out after dark. "Hey! There!" Eve bounced in the front seat, pointing, and Claire squinted. There was a tiny, dim sign in a window, a few lights were on, and the sign might have said something about ice cream. "I knew no self-respecting small Texas town would shut down ice cream service at night."
"That makes no sense."
"Shut up, Shane. How can you not want ice cream? What is wrong with you?"
"I guess I was born without the ice cream gene. Thank God." Michael pulled the car to a stop in front of the lonely little ice cream parlor. When he switched off the engine, the oppressive silence closed in; except for street signs creaking in the wind, there was hardly a sound at all in downtown Durram, Texas. Eve didn't seem to care. She practically flung herself out of the car, heading for the door. Michael followed, leaving Claire and Shane behind in the backseat. "This isn't going at all how I'd thought," Claire said with a sigh. He laced their fingers together and raised hers to his lips. "How'd you think it would go?"
"I don't know. Saner?"
"You have been paying attention this last year, right? Because saner isn't even in our playbook." He nodded toward the ice cream parlor. "So? You want something?"
"Yes." She made no move to get out of the car. "Then what--oh." He didn't sound upset about it. He'd been telling the truth, Claire thought. He really didn't have the ice cream gene. But he did have the kissing gene and didn't need that much of a hint to start using it to both their advantages. He leaned forward, and at first it was a light, teasing brush of their lips, then soft, damp pressure, then more. He had such wonderful lips. They made her ignite inside, and it felt like gravity increased, all on its own, dragging her back sideways on the big bench seat; pulling him with her. Things might have really gone somewhere, except all of a sudden there was a loud metallic knock on the window, and a light shined in, focusing on the back of Shane's head and in Claire's eyes. She yelped and flailed, shoved Shane away, and he scrambled to get himself together, too. Standing outside of the car was a man in a tan shirt, tan pants, a big Texas hat.... It took a second for Claire's panicked brain to catch up as her eyes fastened on the shiny star pinned to his shirt front. Oh. Oh, crap. Local sheriff. He tapped on the window again with the end of a big, intimidating flashlight, then blinded them again with the business end. Claire squinted and cranked down the window. She licked her lips nervously, and tasted Shane. Inappropriate! "Let's see some ID," the man said. He didn't sound like the Welcome Wagon. Claire searched around for her backpack and pulled out her wallet, handing it over with trembling hands. Shane passed over his own driver's license. "You're seventeen?" The sheriff focused the beam on Claire. She nodded. He shifted the light to Shane. "Eighteen?"
"Yes sir. Something wrong?"
"Don't know, son. You think there's something wrong about taking advantage of a girl who's under eighteen on a public street?"
"He wasn't--"
"Sure looked that way to me, miss. Out of the car, both of you. This your car?"
"No sir," Shane said. He sounded subdued now. Reality was setting in. Claire realized they'd just made the same mistake that Michael had--they'd acted as if they were home in Morganville, where people knew them. Here, they were a couple of troublemaking teenagers --one underage--making out in the back of a car. "You got any drugs?"
"No sir," Shane repeated, and Claire echoed him. Her lips, which had felt so warm and lovely just a minute ago, now felt cold and numb. This can't be happening. How could we be this stupid? She remembered Shane's list of ways not to die. Maybe this ought to be number four. "You mind if I search the car, then?"
"I--" Claire looked at Shane, and he looked back at her, his eyes suddenly very wide. Claire continued. "It's not our car, sir. It's our friend's."
"Well, where's your friend?"
"In there." Claire's throat was tight and dry, and she was holding Shane's hand now in a death grip. If he searches the car, he'll open the coolers. If he opens the cooler and finds Michael's blood ... She pointed to the ice cream shop door. The