Читать книгу: «Shocking Pink», страница 3

They reached it, but instead of going inside, climbed onto the metal roof, lay back and gazed up at the black velvet sky. Minutes passed; none of them spoke. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked.

“It’s so beautiful,” Julie murmured.

Raven murmured her agreement. “And so quiet.”

Andie folded her arms behind her head and breathed deeply. “It’s like we’re the only people in the whole universe. Just us and the stars.”

“What if it was just us?” Raven mused. “No asshole parents? Nobody making us be what they want us to be?”

“If it was just us,” Andie murmured, “I wouldn’t be so sad right now.”

“What about boys?”

Andie and Raven looked at each other, then burst out laughing. “Leave it to you, Julie.”

“Well, really.” She sniffed, sounding annoyed. “We’d have to have boys. You guys might be able to do without … well, you know, but not me.”

“Well, I could,” Raven said, her tone fierce. “Boys become men. Then they become like your dad or mine.” She made a sound of disgust. “No thank you.”

Andie looked at her. “They don’t have to be that way.”

“No?” Raven frowned. “Go ask your mom if I’m right.”

The girls fell silent for long moments, then Raven reached across and touched Andie’s arm. “I’m sorry I said that.”

“It’s okay.”

Raven propped herself up on her elbow. “Do either of you ever think about the future? Where we’re going to be? What we’re going to be?”

“College,” Andie offered.

“Together,” Julie added.

“But beyond that? Like, who do you want to be? And what do you want your life to be like?”

“That’s easy,” Julie said. “I want to be popular. I mean really popular. And I won’t feel bad about it. I won’t feel guilty about being pretty and having fun or about going out every single night if I want to.”

Raven sat up and drew her knees to her chest. “I want to be the one who says how it’s going to be. I want to be the one other people follow.”

Julie giggled. “You’ll probably be the first woman president.

They’ll put your face on a postage stamp or something.”

“This face? Please, I’d scare little children.”

“Stop that,” Andie said, frowning, feeling bad for her friend. “You’re gorgeous. The only reason the boys say those things about you is because they can’t get anything over on you. They call you freak ’cause they want into your pants and you won’t let them.”

For a long moment, Raven was silent. Then she cleared her throat. “Do you really mean that?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.”

Raven grinned. “I like that.” She inclined her head regally. “I accept your presidential nomination, Julie.”

Julie tipped her face toward Andie’s. “What about you? What do you want?”

Andie met her friend’s gaze. Tears choked her; she struggled to speak past them. “I just want my family back. I just want …” She made a strangled sound. “I used to think of the future and imagine myself married. To someone like my dad. I used to think that’s what—”

She bit back the words and sat up, wrapping her arms around her drawn-up knees. “I’d hear about bad stuff happening to other people, other kids’ families, but I never thought that could happen to me or my family. I thought we were … protected. Special.”

She turned to her friends. “How can he do this to Mom? How can he do this to me? And to Pete and Danny?” Her voice broke. “How?”

Raven scooted over and put an arm around Andie. “It’s going to get better.”

Julie did the same. “It really will. You’ll see.”

“No.” Andie shook her head. “I feel like nothing’s ever going to be okay again.”

“You’ve got us, Andie. That hasn’t changed.”

“That’s right.” Julie leaned her head against Andie’s. “We love you.”

Tears stung Andie’s eyes. She held out her hand. “Best friends.”

Julie covered it. “More than family.”

“Together forever,” Raven added, joining her hands to theirs. “Just us three.”

“Best friends forever,” they said again, this time in unison.

4

Andie passed the next two weeks in alternating fits and states of grief, anger, panic and betrayal.

Her father had completely moved out—his clothes and books, the plaques in his office, his golf clubs and tennis racket. Her mother had taken down every family picture in which he was included, she had emptied the pantry and refrigerator of the foods he and nobody else ate—the whole-grain cereal and Fig Newtons, his beer, the sprouted wheat bread and spicy brown mustard—not just throwing them out, but opening and emptying each one, then smashing the box or breaking the bottle.

Within days it had been as if he had never lived there at all.

Except in Andie’s memory. And in her heart. Andie had never realized the effect one person could have on a place, but her father had had a profound one on their home. The house was changed, it seemed empty now. Quieter. Sad. Even the smell had changed.

Her house didn’t feel like home anymore.

Even though she saw him on weekends, even though she knew he was trying to make up to her and her brothers, it wasn’t the same. She missed him being around. She missed the family—and the father—she’d thought she had. And, as angry as she was at him, as hurt, she still longed for him. She still longed to hear his deep voice call out that he was home at the end of the day, longed to hear the rumble of his laughter while he wrestled with her brothers, longed for the reassurance just knowing he was there had given her. A reassurance she hadn’t even realized she’d felt until now, until it was gone. She felt as if his leaving had ripped a huge hole in her life, leaving an empty place that ached so bad she sometimes couldn’t breathe.

Danny and Pete felt it, too. Either they were even louder and naughtier than usual or unnaturally subdued. Her mother hardly got out of bed. She was listless, uninterested in her children, friends, food or any of the other activities she used to throw herself into with such energy.

Andie had lost her father and her mother.

Andie did everything she could to help, to make her mother’s life easier. She never mentioned her dad, never expressed her own feelings of fear or despair. She helped with the house and the cooking and her brothers.

Raven and Julie had pitched in. They’d baked cookies, made beds and run the vacuum for her, they’d run to the grocery whenever Andie needed bread, milk or peanut butter. They were her constants, her anchors. With them she still laughed, with them she shared all her feelings, good and bad.

For the first time Andie understood the devastation Raven must have experienced when her mother left, for the first time she truly understood Raven’s fierce loyalty to their friendship.

Raven and Julie truly were her family now.

“Andie? Andie, are you okay?”

Andie blinked, realizing Raven was speaking to her. She moved her gaze between her two friends. They were sitting on Raven’s bed, listening to music and eating chips; both were staring at her, their expressions concerned. Andie averted her eyes, shocked at the tears that sprang to them, shocked that after two weeks just thinking of her father could still make her cry.

She forced herself to meet her friends’ gazes. “Mom and I … yesterday we went downtown to look for new … sheets for her bed. She doesn’t want to … sleep on the old ones.”

“I can dig that,” Julie said, shuddering. “I wouldn’t want to, either. It’d be too sad.”

“The thing is,” Andie continued, “we were in the car, at the stoplight by the McDonald’s, and I … we—” Her throat closed over the words, and she cleared it. She clasped her hands together. “He was in the car next to us. With her.”

The other girls squealed with disbelief. “No way!”

“They were … she was … right on top of him. You know, kissing him and—”

Andie bit the words back, unable to go on. She brought her hands to her eyes, wishing she could block out the image of her father and the other woman. “He’s not supposed to be kissing anybody but my mom. It’s not right.”

“It’s disgusting!” Julie sat up, indignant. “I still can’t believe your dad’s doing this. I just can’t.”

Andie dropped her hands and looked at her friends. “Mom saw them, too. She got hysterical. That was yesterday, and she hasn’t come out of her room yet. I called Grandma. She came to help us.”

“It’s that Barbie doll’s fault,” Raven said suddenly, narrowing her eyes. “She stole your dad.”

“I hate her,” Andie said. “I wish she was dead.”

Raven moved her gaze between the other two. “She’s a lying, husband-stealing little bitch and she should be punished. We have to come up with a plan.”

Julie leaned forward. “Punished? Like how?”

Andie made a sound of frustration. “Get real, Rave. As much as I like to fantasize about frying the little slut in hot oil, the fact is, my dad left my mom. He left me and my brothers. She couldn’t have done it without his cooperation.”

Raven shook her head. “She stole him. These things don’t just happen, Andie. She set out to get your dad … and she did.”

Andie thought of the times she, either alone or with her mother and brothers, had stopped by her dad’s office. She pictured Leeza’s short dresses and tight tops, pictured the way she had hovered around her father, as if trying to keep them from seeing him. As if she were his wife and Andie’s mom the interloper. Andie remembered being uncomfortable with the way the other woman had looked up at her dad from under her dark lashes, the way she had every so often touched his arm, so lightly it was like a caress.

Andie’s blood boiled. Raven was right. Leeza had set out to steal her father. “How do we get her?”

“We could roll her house?” Julie offered, reaching for a handful of chips from the bag between them on the bed. “Or egg it?”

“Worse,” Raven said.

“Like what?”

Raven smiled. “We could hit her over the head and bury her in the backyard.”

Julie nearly choked on her chips, and Andie slapped her on the back while rolling her eyes at Raven. “Very funny.”

“It was just a thought.” She propped her chin on her fist. “I’m going to have to think about this.”

“Wait a minute.” Julie reached for another bunch of chips, turning her gaze to Andie. “Doesn’t she have some fancy little sports car?”

Andie thought of the way she had once admired the car and of the way she had wished her dad would get one just like it. Now, no doubt, he could drive it anytime he wanted. Hatred burned in the pit of her gut. “Yeah. A bright red Fiat. She leaves the top down all the time, except when it’s raining. She thinks she’s so cool.”

“Do you know where she parks it?”

“Oh, yeah. At my father’s office building. Around back, in the shade from that row of trees.”

Julie giggled and clapped her hands together. “I say we key it. Or let the air out of her tires.”

“Let’s not be hasty,” Raven murmured. “We want to do something that’ll really hurt her. At the very least, scare the crap out of her. I mean, she stole Andie’s dad. That’s a lot to be punished for, and a paint job can be repaired.”

“Let’s just drop it,” Andie said, her stomach beginning to hurt. “We’re not really going to do anything, and just talking about her—” She sucked in a quick breath. “Let’s talk about something else. Okay?”

So they did. They talked about an upcoming pool party and what they would wear, boys—in particular Ryan Tolber and why Julie shouldn’t call him—and the new Michael Jackson music video.

Julie sat up suddenly. “I almost forgot to tell you guys! That music, I heard it again.”

“What music?” Andie asked, rolling onto her side to check the time on Raven’s bedside clock.

“You know, from the other night. That was coming from the empty house.”

Andie saw that it was time to go home and make sure the twins were in bed. She sat up and began collecting her things. “It wasn’t coming from the empty house. Remember? We decided.”

“But I heard it again,” Julie offered. “The other night, when I was walking Toto. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

“You’re weird,” Raven said, tossing a pillow at her. “Music coming from empty houses? Wouldn’t surprise me if you suddenly claimed you were abducted by little green men. And that they’re great kissers.”

“They are.” Laughing, Julie tossed the pillow back. “Great kissers!”

Next thing Andie knew, a feather pillow hit her square in the face, knocking her back onto her butt on the bed. With a squeal of surprise, she grabbed a pillow, scrambled to her knees and swung.

It was war. Each girl swung until her shoulders ached, they laughed until their sides hurt so bad they could hardly breathe. Raven was, as always, the last to call “Give!” and as she took her final shot, her pillow split and feathers flew.

A half hour later, smiling to herself, Andie made her way across Raven’s yard and into her own. As she shimmied through a bare place in the row of oleander bushes that separated the two properties, a car passed, music pouring out of its open windows.

Andie stopped, listening as the sound faded quickly away, remembering what Julie had said. She had heard that strange music again. On her quiet little street.

Andie didn’t know why that suddenly seemed wrong to her. She didn’t know why it felt so … ominous. But it did. Prickles crawled up her arms and she rubbed them. Silly, she told herself, starting off again. She was being silly.

Just because other sounds weren’t carrying for blocks, just because the same music had been heard twice, seeming to come from someplace it shouldn’t, that didn’t mean anything weird was going on.

But what if it did? The prickling of goose bumps returned, this time racing up her spine, all the way to her hairline. What if their imaginations weren’t running away with them and someone really was in one of those empty houses?

5

“I’ve been thinking about what Julie said the other night, about hearing that music again,” Raven murmured, two nights later as the three girls sat on Andie’s bed, an open Cosmo and a half-dozen bottles of nail polish between them, all shades of pink, from pale to shocking. “It just doesn’t seem right to me.”

Andie reached for one called Blush. She painted her thumbnail, then blew on it. “I was thinking the same thing. Hearing it twice like that, that’s got to be more than a coincidence.” She held out her hand to inspect her nail, then frowned. “Why do you suppose girls always wear pink?”

“That’s just the way it is,” Julie said, inching her glasses up to the bridge of her nose. “Girls are pink, boys are blue.”

“I suppose.” Andie decided she didn’t like the shade and reached for the polish remover.

“Guys—” Raven made a sound of impatience “—what if somebody is in one of those empty houses?”

Andie looked at her. “Why would they be?”

“Why indeed? That’s the question.”

Julie glared at them. “You guys are creeping me out. Stop it. I’ve got to live there.”

“Exactly.” Raven sat up. “I think we should check it out.”

“Now?” Julie held out her hands. “My nails are wet.”

“Your dad’s going to make you take it off anyway.” Raven looked at her friends. “What else do we have to do?”

“Nothing, I guess.” Andie looked at Julie. “What do you think?”

She shrugged. “Okay by me. I’ve got to be home in an hour anyway.”

After telling Andie’s mom they were going over to Julie’s house, the girls headed outside. They took the shortcut, angling through several backyards, dodging a particularly vicious Doberman pinscher, dragging Julie away from a couple of guys they knew who were shooting hoops in a driveway, reaching Julie’s street within minutes.

They went to the end of the cul-de-sac and gazed at the four dark houses.

“This is so exciting,” Andie whispered. “What if we actually discover something?”

Julie giggled nervously. “I’ll pee my pants, that’s what.”

Andie glanced at Raven. “Which one do you think the music was coming from?”

Raven considered the houses a moment, squinting in thought. They were all dark; their windows eerily empty. All four had For Sale signs in the yard, two of them still sported the builder’s signs. The one-story ranch houses were modest in size, though equipped with all the latest appliances, conveniences and colors. Though the lots weren’t large—not as large as those in Phase I—the developer had taken care to leave as many trees as possible. The big shade trees gave the appearance of a richer, more established neighborhood.

“That one,” Raven said finally, pointing to the one farthest left. “It’s the most secluded. There, next to the empty lot. And look—” she pointed “—that streetlight’s out. If I was up to no good, that’s the one I’d want to be in.”

The other two girls murmured their agreement and fell into step behind Raven. Darting glances in every direction, they crept around to the back of the house. Julie poked Andie in the back, making her jump. “Boo,” she whispered, giggling.

Andie brought a hand to her heart and scowled at her friend. “Stop that. You about gave me a—”

“Shh.” Raven held up a hand. “Listen.”

Andie did, heart thundering. A moment later she leaned toward Raven. “I don’t hear anything.”

Julie put her head close to theirs. “Me neither.”

Raven grinned. “Gotcha.”

“Very funny.”

“Thanks a lot.”

Raven laughed softly. “Come on.”

They crept to the first window and peered in. The room beyond—it looked as if it was supposed to be a bedroom—was empty. They made their way to the next window, then the next, finding the same thing. An empty laundry room, breakfast room, kitchen.

Then they hit pay dirt. A chair. A single, high-backed, wooden chair, the kind you’d find at a desk or dining table. Only there was no table or desk, no television, lamps or anything else in the room.

It looked strange, parked there, a sort of centerpiece. Andie tipped her head. No, not a centerpiece. A kind of audience to an empty stage.

Andie shivered. “This is the one. I’ll just bet.”

“Me, too.” Raven turned to Julie. “Are you sure no one bought this house?”

“Positive.” She rubbed her arms. “My mom was talking about it with Mrs. Green just a couple weeks ago. All four of these houses are still available. Mrs. Green was really weirded-out about it, ’cause there’s a chance Mr. Green’s going to be transferred and she’s afraid they won’t be able to sell.” Julie sucked in a deep breath. “Besides, the For Sale sign is still in front.”

“What now?” Andie whispered. “A few pieces of furniture doesn’t mean some ax murderer has taken up residence in an empty house.”

“Let’s try the door.”

Andie held her breath as Raven did, letting it out when she saw that it was locked. Next, her friend tried the windows. They, too, were locked.

“Come on, Raven.” Andie glanced around nervously. “I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

“Just a sec.” Raven stood on tiptoe and ran her hand along the top of the door frame. “Bingo,” she said, holding up a key.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Andie shook her head. “And isn’t this against the law?”

“Is it?” Raven arched her eyebrows. “We have a key. That’s not like breaking and entering or anything.”

“People go through model homes all the time,” Julie piped in. “That’s all we’re doing.”

Raven inserted the key into the lock. Andie took a step back. “You guys, what if somebody really lives here? What if they’re home?”

Raven made a face at her. “Wiener. Chicken out if you want, Julie and I are going in.” She looked at Julie. “You’re with me, right?” The girl nodded, and Raven eased open the door.

Andie watched her two friends slip through the door, then disappear inside the house. She waited, heart pounding. The moments ticked past with agonizing slowness. What were they doing? What did they see?

“Guys,” she whispered, “what’s going on?”

They didn’t answer. Andie inched closer to the door, straining to hear her friends inside. When she couldn’t, she peeked around the doorway. Still nothing. Feeling like the wiener Raven had called her, she followed them inside.

The door opened onto the kitchen. Adjacent to it was the family room with its one chair, and beyond it, the entrance foyer and dining room. A hallway led to what Andie supposed were the bedrooms.

Creepy, she thought, hugging herself, chilled. Obviously empty, yet something about it felt occupied. She turned slowly, taking in the fast-food bag on the counter, the cups in the sink; hearing the hum of the air conditioner.

“Rave?” she called softly. “Julie?”

“Here,” Raven answered. “Come see what we found.”

Andie went down the hallway and found her friends in the master bedroom. It was a large room with a vaulted ceiling and exposed wooden beams. There wasn’t a bed, just a couple of big floor pillows and a stool, the kind her mom had at the breakfast bar in their kitchen.

And a tape deck. A nice one. Andie crossed to it, squatted and popped open the cassette holder. Nothing.

“The boom box proves it.” Julie looked from one of her friends to the other. “This is where the music was coming from. Somebody’s using this house.”

“But for what?” Andie shook her head. “There’s something really weird about this. I don’t like it.”

“No joke. Let’s get out of here.”

They started back toward the kitchen. Andie peeked in the bathroom as they passed it. It, too, showed signs of limited occupation. A shower curtain, a cup by the sink. But no towels or toiletries.

Back in the kitchen, Julie shivered. “It’s like someone’s living here, but not. Like a ghost, or something.”

“A ghost?” Raven repeated, pointing to the McDonald’s bag on the counter. “Get real, girl. Whoever’s using this house is a flesh-and-blood human being.”

Which made it all the more scary, as far as Andie was concerned. She crossed to the gently humming refrigerator, opened it and peered inside, squinting at the sudden light. A bottle of wine and a six-pack of beer, some cheese and a bunch of grapes.

Raven peered over her shoulder and grinned. “Beer?”

“Oh no you don’t. If you take one, they’ll know we were in here.”

“So what?” Raven reached around her. “It’s not like they’ll know it was us who—” She stopped, frowning. “What’s that rumbling sound? It’s kind of like—”

They all froze, as if realizing simultaneously what it was. The automatic garage door. Opening.

“Oh shit.” Andie looked at her friends. A door opened then slammed. A car door. “What do we do?”

“Hide,” Raven managed to say, her voice a frightened croak. “Now!”

Andie looked wildly around, her heart in her throat. She grabbed Julie’s hand and darted for the walk-in pantry door. She pushed Julie inside, then ducked in behind her, not having time to get the door completely shut before a man entered the kitchen.

Andie held the knob to keep the door steady, her heart hammering nearly out of control. Cracked open about an inch, she was able to watch the man’s progress.

He didn’t turn on a light, so she couldn’t make out his face or features, only that he was tall, dark-haired and dressed casually. He went to the refrigerator and opened it. Light flooded the dark kitchen, though his back was to her. A moment later she heard the pop and hiss of a can being opened. He was drinking beer. Thank God they hadn’t taken one. He would have known they were here.

He shut the fridge and turned, staring straight at the pantry. He stood unmoving a moment, his eyes seeming to meet hers. Her heart stopped; he started toward her.

Fear exploded inside her. Andie held her breath, dizzy with emotion, certain that her next moment was going to be her last. She squeezed her eyes shut, a bead of sweat rolling down her spine, slipping under the elastic band of her panties.

Behind her on the floor, Julie stirred. Don’t move, Julie. Don’t breathe.

The man stopped in front of the pantry door. He reached out. And pushed the door the rest of the way shut. The latch clicked into place.

He hadn’t discovered them.

Now they were truly trapped.

Andie brought a hand to her mouth to hold back her cry of relief and panic. What did they do now? she wondered, shifting slightly so she could see Julie’s face now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. And where was Raven?

Julie’s eyes were wide and terrified. Andie felt her friend’s rising hysteria; it mirrored her own. She fought the urge to scream. To just open her mouth and let out a wail of terror, and then run for it. Past the man. The man who had no business being in this house, in this neighborhood. The man who could be anyone. Or anything. A rapist or murderer.

Instead, Andie held tightly to her control and brought a finger to her lips to signal Julie to be quiet. Her friend nodded and pressed her face to her drawn-up knees.

The minutes seemed like hours. An eternity. As they ticked past, the pantry became hotter, closer. It was like a tomb, an airless box. Andie began to sweat; the urge to scream, to run, grew. She didn’t know how much longer she would be able to last.

She counted to ten, then twenty, forcing herself to breathe evenly. She told herself everything would be all right. The pantry was empty. If he didn’t hear them, there should be no reason for him to open the door. As long as they were quiet, they would be okay. So would Raven.

She closed her eyes, imagining him there in the dark, drinking his beer. Imagined him turning suddenly toward the pantry door, sensing their presence, their panic. The way a predator in the wild does.

The metallic taste of fear nearly gagged her. She strained to hear him. Every so often she thought she heard him stir, his footfall, his rhythmic breathing. She couldn’t be sure.

She held her breath and prayed. Please, God. Please make him go away.

The prayer played in her head, over and over again until she suddenly realized she was digging her nails into her palms, that she was light-headed from holding her breath.

At the same moment she realized it had been quiet for some time.

The pantry door flew open.

Her cry shattered the quiet.

It was Raven. With a sob of relief, Andie tumbled out, Julie behind her. They fell into each other’s arms, clinging to one another.

“Where were you?” Andie cried. “I was so worried he’d see you!”

“In the dining room. Are you guys okay?”

“Fine. Fi—”

“I want to go home,” Julie said, her teeth beginning to chatter. “I want to go home.”

Raven caught Julie’s hands and rubbed them. “What do you think he was up to?”

“I don’t know. It was so weird. He—” Andie bit the words back, new fear taking her breath. “Are you sure he’s gone? Are you sure—”

“He’s gone.” Raven indicated the family room. “He went the way he came in.”

Andie looked in the direction Raven pointed. “What if he comes back? He could be hiding, waiting for us.”

“Why would he do that?” Raven shook her head. “No, I heard the garage door. He’s gone.”

“I want to go,” Julie said again, starting to cry. “I don’t like it here. He could have hurt us.”

Andie hugged her. “It’s okay, sweetie. He didn’t touch us. He’s gone. You’re fine.”

“But he could have! If he’d found us, he could have done … anything. No one knew we were here!”

“Who was he?” Raven asked softly, as if speaking to no one but herself.

Andie turned to Raven. “I didn’t get a look at him. Did you?”

The other girl gazed at her for a moment, then shook her head. “You didn’t see his face? I thought for sure you had. He was right there.”

“It was dark, and when he came close I drew back from the door.” Andie pressed a hand to her fluttering stomach. “I think I closed my eyes, too. I was so scared he was going to find us.”

“Me, too.” Raven let out a long breath. “I was too afraid to peek around the doorway.” She laughed, the sound high and excited. “What a rush.” She laughed again and crossed to the breakfast counter. “Come see. He left these.”

Andie followed her friend. She stared down at what looked like two folded pieces of black fabric.

“What are they?” Andie asked.

“Scarves.”

Raven moved to pick one up; Andie caught her hand. “Don’t touch it.”

“Why not? I’ll put them back the way I found them.” She shook off Andie’s hand and picked one up. It was long and narrow and semisheer. “It’s so soft. Feel it.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Andie did. The fabric slithered through her fingers, as soft as butterfly wings. “My mom has a scarf that feels like this. It’s silk.”

“Silk,” Raven repeated. “Why did he bring these here? What are they for?” She met Andie’s eyes. “Who is he, Andie? What’s he doing here?”

Andie searched her friend’s gaze. “I don’t know. But I don’t think we need to find out.”

Julie came up behind them, white as a sheet. “I don’t feel so good. I want to go.”

Andie nodded, then nudged Raven who had turned her attention back to the scarf. She seemed almost mesmerized by it and her own questions. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“They’re for a woman, that’s for sure. But who? Why did he bring them here? And why two of them?”

Julie moaned and bent slightly at the waist. Andie put an arm around her. “Come on, Raven,” she said again. “Julie’s sick.”

As if only just realizing Andie had spoken, Raven looked blankly at her. “What?”

“Julie’s sick. We’ve got to get out of here.”

Raven nodded, refolded the scarf, then the three of them left the way they had come in. As they did, Andie glanced back at the dark house. She was never coming back here, she promised herself. Never.