“Justice?” Toby’s voice called. She knew the machete from his cheerful, sticker-covered knife case would be in his hand. “Please Pet, don’t run.”
Justice, given name Petunia, ground her teeth at the hated nickname. But she didn’t stop to correct him. Something hanging from her jeans pocket slapped her rear under her flannel as she ran and opened the stairwell door. She reached behind her and felt – stiff work gloves? She didn’t take the time to wonder where they came from, but dashed down the ugly carpeted stairs from the refuge of the top floor.