Creep

by Eireann Corrigan

  “Mom!” Ben bellowed. “You need to get down here, right away!”

  The rest of us stood frozen and wordless as we watched one of the police officers climb out of the car. It looked like his partner was on the radio. Then the partner leaned back, speaking to Mr. Donahue. The first cop slammed his door and peered at the front door through aviator sunglasses. I recognized him as the school outreach officer. He’d taught me everything I knew about not abusing prescription drugs and not soliciting online predators.

  As if snapping out of a trance, Lucy sprang into action and said, “I’ll go get her.” She darted out of the room and squeezed Ben’s arm as she passed. Janie, still silent, reached for me. She nodded toward the bookshelf, and before I even had the chance to react, she had triggered the mechanism to the hidden hollow. She snaked one arm around my waist; together we stepped back into the darkness.

  We shoved the door closed and crouched down, taking turns pressing our faces up to each of the spyholes. They were small openings that framed only bits and pieces of the chaotic scene unfolding. The books muffled the shouting so we didn’t hear Mrs. Donahue until she actually entered the room. “What has he done?” she asked. And then: “What was he thinking?” When the doorbell toned, we felt the vibrations in the walls.

  “You have to answer the door for the police.” That was Lucy.

  “Just give me a minute.” Mrs. Donahue’s profile moved in and out of view. “I cannot believe this is happening.” We watched her tuck errant strands of hair behind her ears and smooth her pants with her hands. Her eyes narrowed critically and I realized she was probably checking her reflection in the mirror above the fireplace.

  “Mom!” That was Ben again. I felt relieved that we couldn’t see him, as if that made our hiding and spying somehow forgivable. The doorbell rang and shook the walls again.

  “That’s it,” we heard Lucy bark. “I’m answering the door right this minute.”

  For the next few minutes, we heard only muffled voices, punctuated by Mrs. Donahue’s occasional exclamation, like “You can’t just keep him.” Lucy’s voice permeated the mumbling and then we heard hushing. Moments later two sets of footsteps stomped up the front staircase—Ben and Lucy banished from the scene by their mother.

  “Ma’am, I realize your family has just moved to Glennon Heights and we want you to feel welcome.” The officer’s voice was stern and forceful. It cut right through our muffled hiding place. “But this is a quiet town with good people. It’s not the kind of place where conflict gets resolved with violence.”

  “Of course, officer. My husband has been under an inordinate amount of stress.”

  “Moving is stressful.”

  “One of the most stressful times in a human being’s life.” Another deep voice chimed in. Maybe Sunglasses Cop visited office buildings, lecturing on the dangers of real estate.

  “This is not who we are.” Janie’s mom sounded shaky.

  “Hope not.” One of the officers coughed. “Ma’am, has your husband always had a temper?”

  “No. Certainly not.”

  “Do you feel safe in your home, ma’am?”

  “I’m sorry? Absolutely not. I mean, I do. I absolutely feel safe. I am not—there is no—”

  “You understand we have to ask.”

  “This has all been a complete misunderstanding.” I glimpsed a flash of blue uniform and realized one of the police officers had stepped closer to Janie’s mom.

  “Well, between us, Mrs. Donahue, your husband wouldn’t be the first to misunderstand Ned McGovern.” Next to me, Janie caught her breath.

  “McGovern’s friendly with many of the ladies in town. I’m sure it’s part of the territory, selling homes and whatnot. But I could understand how a husband might misinterpret his … intentions.”

  From our perspective, only the rigid lines of Mrs. Donahue’s stiffened back were visible. We could not see her face. But we heard her tell the police officers in a carefully steady voice, “You’ve been very kind and helpful. Thank you.” Janie and I heard shuffling. “Will I have to pick up my husband at the station? Should I—I don’t know—do I call an attorney?”

  “Mr. McGovern declined to press charges,” one of the officers said. Mrs. Donahue exhaled loudly. Beside me, Janie’s released breath echoed her mom’s relief. “We just wanted to give your husband some time to cool down—”

  “And make sure things were okay with you. Make sure you knew you could tell us if you felt unsafe.”

  “That’s very thoughtful, thank you.”

  “So you’re sure, then? Anything else we need to know?”

  Janie and I leaned forward, our foreheads pressing against the thin wood. Would she tell them? Would Mrs. Donahue mention the letters?

  “No. There’s nothing. This whole episode is out of character for us. I apologize for the trouble, officers.”

  In our hiding place, we exhaled. Janie chewed her lip and glowered at the light shining into the shadows. She held up two fingers. “Two lies.”

  In the dining room, Sunglasses Cop nodded to Janie’s mom. “All right then. I’m going to go have a word with Mr. Donahue. We’ll be right in.” He edged out of view and we heard the front door open and close. Maybe if I were a good friend, my sense of bravery would have kicked in. I’d push my way out from behind the bookcase and demand that Mrs. Donahue tell the police all about the letters. This has gone on long enough, I’d say. Can’t you see what it’s doing to Janie? But instead I sat like a fellow statue at her side, ready to collect the pieces if she fell apart.

  We heard her dad before we saw him framed in the peephole. He blustered through the door, asking, “Well, are you going to charge him with anything? Does McGovern get to sit in the back of a squad car in his own driveway?”

  “Gavin.” Mrs. Donahue sounded outraged. We couldn’t see her, but I imagined she was giving the police her patented apologetic look.

  “It’s just like we said, Mr. Donahue.” Sunglasses Cop kept his voice even, like he was trying to calm a room full of seventh graders. “I apologize for taking more of your time; we only wanted a chance to check in with your wife about how the move was going.”

  “That’s terrific.” Mr. Donahue’s tone made me wonder if the police ever wrote tickets for sarcasm. “And I imagine she told you about those ridiculous letters.”

  “Pardon me? What letters?”

  After a long stretch of tense silence and some frantic clarification, Sunglasses Cop and his partner stepped outside for some kind of cop conference while Mr. Donahue followed his wife into the dining room. Janie and I crowded against that side of the hideout, listening. Her parents hissed loudly at each other, as if intending to keep their voices down. Instead they sounded like two tangled snakes, fighting to get free of each other. “Well, how was I supposed to know?”

  “I don’t know, Gav. You told me you wanted it kept in the family, so I did as you asked. Maybe you could have trusted me.”

  “Wrong day to talk to me about trust. Or keeping it in the family.”

  “For goodness’ sake, nothing happened.”

  “Nothing’s happened yet. Where are you going now?”

  “They’re going to be here for a while. I thought I’d bring out a pitcher of lemonade.”

  Janie and I heard his clomping footsteps and the distant clatter of ice cubes colliding with glass. “Go, go, go,” I whispered and pushed her forward. We took turns fumbling with the mechanism, frantically trying to spring open the secret door.

  “Just grab some cookies or something.” That was Janie’s mom, in the kitchen. “Maybe that bowl of fruit.”

  “This is for you, you know, just to keep this happy housewife sham going strong. And that ship has sailed.” Mr. Donahue’s tone softened. I could barely hear him. “Tell me again that nothing happened.”

  “Gavin. Nothing happened.” She said it like she meant it. I was so caught up eavesdropping on the Donahue marriage that I didn’t notice that Janie had finally sprung open th
e door.

  “Liv, let’s go!” Janie urged, and I practically crashed into the dining room table. “Close it up behind you.” I shut the bookcase and we ran, hunched over, toward the front stairs. I glanced back to make sure the shelf looked like an ordinary bookshelf again … and that’s when I saw him.

  Ben sat in an armchair in the family room, silent and watching. My eyes followed the sight line between him and the hideaway—a clear and unobstructed view. He raised his eyebrows at me and nodded slowly. Outside, the two officers conferred on the Donahues’ front lawn. It seemed like pretty soon, we would all have a lot of explaining to do.

  Janie and I went upstairs to give Lucy a heads-up. “Dad told the police about the letters,” Janie said.

  She had been lounging, but in her unique Lucy way, which meant doing leg lifts with an organic chemistry book splayed open on the bed. She sprang up as soon as Janie spoke. “What do you mean? Why? I thought—”

  “He thought your mom had already told them.”

  “Why were the cops interviewing them separately?”

  “I don’t know, Judge Judy,” Janie said. “We should go downstairs, though.”

  “They wanted to make sure your dad wasn’t abusing your mom.” Again my explanation did not calm the situation. Lucy muttered a vocabulary list of swear words and threw her hair into a businesslike bun.

  “Yeah—we should go down. Olivia, maybe you have someplace else to be? I’m sure this is entertaining and all, but Janie can call you after and tell you about it then. I think it’s safe to say your sleepover’s canceled.”

  I felt torn—on one hand, I didn’t relish the emotional tornado. But I didn’t think it was fair to step out of the storm and leave Janie on her own. Besides, my adrenaline was still pumping. I felt like a fox in the night, either hunted or hunting. I couldn’t imagine just slinking back home and watching from my back porch.

  “Olivia stays,” Janie announced firmly. “She’s been here the whole time. And she’s the one who got Miss Abbot to talk. The police will want to hear from her.”

  Lucy spun around then and pinned me in the doorframe. “Fine, then. But let’s be clear: None of this is material for freshmen gossip.” She spit out the words and gestured around with one arm, while blocking me with the other.

  “I would never—”

  “But you probably would, and you know what? Ordinarily, I might even understand. But I’m about to start my senior year in a new school, and that already sucks hard enough. I don’t want to walk down the halls and wonder what everyone’s whispering about.”

  “Yeah, of course. I get it.” And I did get it. In that moment, Lucy at least seemed human.

  She nodded and led the way back downstairs. “We should get Ben.”

  “He’s in the family room,” I said. Janie shot me a questioning look. “Just sitting there.”

  “Cops make him nervous,” Lucy said.

  “Lucy—” Janie’s voice carried a warning.

  “You wanted her here. She’s probably going to find out everything.”

  Before any more useful information emerged, we heard a soft knock at the front door. Sunglasses Cop didn’t wait for an answer but simply opened the door.

  Mrs. Donahue rushed over, drying her hands on her shirt. “Come in. We were just putting together some refreshments.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Other Cop said, without smiling.

  “But very kind of you,” said Sunglasses. I had seen this routine on Law & Order. “Is there a comfortable place where we can all chat?”

  Mr. Donahue wore the same unyielding face as Other Cop. “I’m going to ask again—do I need to call an attorney? To protect my family?”

  Sunglasses Cop held his hands up. “We’re all trying to protect your family, Mr. Donahue. It’s just a conversation. Is everyone home right now?” Janie’s mom and dad exchanged apprehensive eye contact.

  “Yes.” Janie’s dad stood up straighter. He smiled reassuringly at the girls: his daughters, his wife, even me. “Let’s all go into the family room.” He motioned for us to come down the steps. “We’re still unpacking of course, but there are plenty of places to sit.” Lucy dutifully took the bowl of fruit from him and we all paraded into the family room, where Ben stood in front of the armchair, looking as if he occasionally, actually worried about something. Mr. Donahue had transformed into a levelheaded patriarch. “You’ve met my wife. Thank you so much for the assistance this afternoon.” He strode over to stand beside Ben. “This is Benjamin, my son. My daughters Lucy and Jane. And Olivia is also here—a neighbor friend of the girls. Olivia, honey, I apologize—I’ve gone blank on your last name?”

  “Danvers.” My voice sounded impossibly small, so I said it again more loudly, like a teacher was taking attendance. “Olivia Danvers.”

  “Danvers, huh?” Sunglasses Copy said.

  “Yes, my dad owns the tire shop right off Landing Lane.”

  “Fine mechanic, your father. Don’t tell anyone, but when our guys at the station can’t handle an issue with a vehicle, we take it to your old man. He’s a master.” Sunglasses Cop grinned widely, all white teeth and rapport.

  “Thank you.”

  “Should we send Olivia home?” Mrs. Donahue asked. I stood back up right in the middle of sitting down. Everyone turned to look at me. “After all, we don’t have permission from her parents. I wouldn’t want my child questioned without me there—”

  “Again, we’re not questioning anyone. We’re just here to help.” The policeman turned to me. “Olivia, what do you say? Do you think you might be able to add something to the conversation?”

  I looked to Janie, who nodded at me. “Yeah. I’m happy to help.”

  “Okay, then.” I sat back down and prepared to talk about the letters again. Mrs. Donahue handed them over and the officers read them carefully, grimacing.

  “Have you all read the letters?” Sunglasses Cop asked.

  Nods all around. I didn’t think that was technically true and hoped we wouldn’t be quizzed on them.

  “Have you had many visitors to the house?”

  “Movers,” Mrs. Donahue answered. “A few neighbors have dropped by to welcome us.” Mrs. Donahue stopped and brought her hand to her mouth.

  “What is it?” Other Cop asked.

  “Well, people have brought muffins, cake, zucchini. We’ve been eating that food, but if it’s this Sentry person …”

  “You all seem fine,” Other Cop observed.

  Sunglasses cleared his throat. “But it can’t hurt to be careful from now on. No unpackaged, unsealed food. Just save it for us to check out. So which neighbors dropped off food?”

  “I made a list.” Mrs. Donahue rushed to retrieve it.

  “Really?” Lucy asked. “You made a list of suspects?”

  Mrs. Donahue called back from the kitchen. “Of course not. I made a list for thank-you notes.” Mr. Donahue exhaled deeply as his wife came back in. “Here you go.”

  “Great.” Sunglasses jotted down the names in his notebook. “Anyone else?”

  “Olivia.” Lucy tilted her head in my direction. “And Olivia’s mother.”

  “Of course,” Mrs. Donahue said. “Olivia’s been a wonderful friend to Janie. And when we received the first note, we did ask her mother for advice.”

  “That’s great.” Sunglasses smiled encouragingly. “You’ve already made some connections in the neighborhood. Somebody might see something, and it always helps if your neighbors are also staying vigilant. Otherwise do you get the feeling you’re being watched? Other than just the general curiosity since you’re a new family in a relatively small town?” The Donahues all sort of shrugged off that question. “Any strange phone calls? Hang-ups?” Heads shook all around.

  “We have awful reception here,” Lucy announced sourly. “Calls drop all the time.”

  Mrs. Donahue flashed a desperate smile in her direction. “That’s not really what the officer’s asking about, honey.” She looked apologetic, explai
ning, “Sometimes the charms of this old house get lost on the teenaged members of our family.”

  “Yes. I always forget to find terrible reception and anonymous letters delightful,” Lucy remarked.

  Other Cop continued, “These letters? They were placed in the mailbox—”

  “Mail slot,” Mr. Donahue corrected.

  “But without a stamp.” The two officers glanced at each other. “You didn’t speak to your mail carrier?”

  “We just found out about the second note today. And the first … Well, I suppose we wanted to believe it was an anomaly. Just a freak thing.” Mrs. Donahue smiled nervously.

  “Right. Well, we’ll check in down at the post office. Tampering with the mail is a federal issue, but we’ll ask Al—you’re on his route, I’m sure—to keep an eye out.”

  “So it seems like the plan is to keep a lot of eyes out,” Mr. Donahue muttered.

  Sunglasses held his hands up again, keeping the peace. “Listen, it’s too late to dust either envelope for prints. They’ve passed through too many hands.” Lucy glared at Janie and me pointedly. “Honestly, best-case scenario? We get another letter. We’re going to set up some plastic covering on the floor right by the door. If it arrives, you leave it right where it is.” His eyes swept the room, making contact with each of us. “And then you call us.”

  “It would seem like the best-case scenario is that we don’t get another letter,” Mr. Donahue argued.

  “Well, then won’t you just worry every time the mail comes? Won’t you always be waiting?” The room fell silent as we all imagined that option.

  “Will you speak to this Miss Abbot?” Mrs. Donahue asked. “She told the girls these letters actually began before we moved into the residence.”

  “Grace Abbot? What did she say?”

  Janie knocked my knee with her own. My turn. “Miss Abbot mentioned the Langsoms had also received some letters from the Sentry.”

  Sunglasses sighed and rubbed his temples.

  “Exactly!” Mr. Donahue practically leapt out of his seat. “You see? That should have been disclosed like any other issue with the house. These people, the Langsoms, they put my family at risk. And Ned McGovern served as their accomplice.”