𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘴 ~ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

Chapter Forty-Five

"Picking the lock?"

Dustin shared a look with Max, growing annoyed that he didn't think of that first.

"Of a drug dealers house? No! No way. Have you ever even picked a lock before?"

"Yeah?" Ramona shrugged his hand off, turning back to the lock. "When I worked at the diner, I got locked out of the house. I'd take doubles a lot. My mom would get home before me, she assumed I was asleep. 'Cause the house was all dark and shit, so."

Steve pulled his lips in between his teeth, dropping his head as he motioned for her to continue. As she did, Max slowly walked around the porch.

Ramona muttered to herself as she jiggled the bobby-pin in the lock. Her eyes lit up when the faint sound of it clicking hit her ears.

"Bingo!" Ramona stood up, brushing her hands off and shoving the bobby-pin in her pocket. Her hand rested on the doorknob, and she slowly twisted it open, careful to make a little noise as possible.

"Uh, guys? Guys!" The sound of Max's voice brought their attention away from the door, and they quickly moved over to where Max stood.

Ramona squinted, humming to herself as she shared a look with Max. "Boat house?"

"Perfect place to hunker down." Max pointed out, nodding her head toward it. "He's gotta be in there."

The grass crunched under Ramona's feet as she followed the path down to the boathouse. Max shined her flashlight in the dusty window, nodding to Robin who stood at the door. 

Carefully, Robin pushed open the creaky door, cringing when it squeaked.

"Hello?" Robin called out cautiously, holding the door open for the others. "Is anyone home?"

The floorboards groaned under Ramona's feet, her flashlight shining on the fishing gear hung up on the walls and the tools on the table.

"What a dump.." Steve muttered under his breath. The creaking of the floorboards mixed with the gentle lapping of the waves of the lake against the shore offered an eery feeling.

Ramona jumped as Steve hit the covered boat with an oar, "Steve!"

"What are you doing?" Dustin questioned, tone in a hushed whisper.

"He might be in here." Steve answered, shrugging.

"Then take the tarp off." Dustin answered, incredulously.

"Duh." Ramona said, gently pushing Steve's head to the side.

"If you're so brave, you take the tarp off." Steve stepped back, motioning for Dustin to do as he said. When Dustin made no movements, Steve rolled his eyes and continued to hit the tarp with the oar.

"Hey, look over here." Max said, shining her light on the table. "Someone was here."

Ramona picked up the trash, flipping the wrapper over to look at the date. "Recently."

"Maybe he heard us? Got spooked and ran." Robin suggested.

"Don't worry! Steve can get him with his oar." Dustin said sarcastically.