Kara’s thoughts fluttered to Desmond, how he had told them about the pocket listing. As far as she had known there had been no competition on purchasing the house. Had he known Tom and Shannon had wanted to buy it? And he had been around several times since they had moved in. In fact, he had wanted to come inside that day. Was he going to warn her?
Shannon whipped her head to glare at Tom. “Did you take care of him?”
Tom nodded. “Just before I came here.”
A tiny cry escaped from Kara’s lips. What did that mean? What had he done to Desmond?
She started to say she was sorry when her cellphone rang, surprising the room. She whipped her head, her eyes locating it on the kitchen counter.
Tom scooped it up. Kara waited for him to say who it was, but he didn’t. He sent the call to voicemail and returned to the table with it.
The front door opened and closed then.
Kara sat up, hoping to see John.
“Hello?” Shannon called.
Tom said, “It’s Matthew.”
A guy wearing a black hoodie and jeans shuffled into the kitchen. He had a round, youthful face and shaggy black hair. He slouched, looking uncomfortable.
“It’s about time,” Jane said.
“Surprised to see Matthew?” Shannon asked Kara.
Kara glanced at the disheveled guy and started to shake her head no.
Shannon said, incredulously, “He’s your neighbor’s son!”
Diane’s Matthew? Kara looked, but his head hung down, hiding his face.
Shannon seethed, “I’m so glad we got rid of that old man. Tom was so ticked off with him—Marvin—about that stupid chandelier. That was Tom’s job! I’m glad he’s gone. D’you think the ladder was stable? Hmm, whaddya think, Kara? Think it’d be hard to loosen the locks?
“And to think this miscreant could keep an eye on you.” Shannon moved to the breakfast nook and grabbed Matthew’s earlobe. He moaned and squeezed his eyes tight. “He was practically useless!” She stooped down, trying to force him to look up at her.
Tom growled, “Shannon, leave him alone.”
She let him go. “Did you even do anything to help us?”
Matthew glanced up at her before lowering his eyes again. “I watched her a few times at night,” he replied, his deep voice quiet. “She saw me.”
Watched her at night? Kara’s arms went to her chest. Matthew was the figure in the shadows? It was confirmation she hadn’t imagined it, but hearing he had watched her more than once made her feel sick.
“The dead animals were a nice touch,” Shannon said. “Shoving nails into one of them. Nice.” She looked at Kara and said, “You never mentioned those to me.”
The dead opossum and raccoon she had discovered on the porch and deck! John had assumed the nails in the raccoon’s body had been from the driveway. That meant Matthew had driven them into the animal and planted it in their fire pit? And how had he killed the opossum—strangled it?
Matthew sputtered, then said, “I started right when they moved in. I rang the doorbell. They couldn’t figure out who or what it was.” Kara remembered very well: someone playing Ding-dong Ditch.
Shannon shoved him, making him lose balance. “You were supposed to scare them! How’s that scaring somebody?”
Oh, but Kara had been scared, uneasy from the start.
“So,” Kara spoke up. All eyes leveled on her. “Were Marvin and Diane behind this too?” She had felt hostility from Diane, but Marvin had been in her home several times; he had befriended them. His involvement would’ve added to her shock.
“No,” Jane replied. “They had no clue.”
Tom ran his hands along the duffel bag. “Matthew’d stay with his parents he was having…an episode. He’s a good kid. He helped my uncle and me sometimes on the house. He was here when we found out about the foreclosure. He saw how much living here meant to us. He wanted us to get the house back and he was willing to help anyway he could.”
“He did things, we did things,” Shannon said. “Drugging you with my sleeping pill didn’t really do anything, I guess. I don’t know what I really wanted to accomplish with that. I guess you could say we were desperate, trying whatever we could. ‘Death by a thousand papercuts’.”
Kara recalled the hallucinations from that night, the night Jack had broken his leg: the figures in the woods and finding Diane out there…
She shivered, asking, “Did you tie those scarves around the trees?”
“Scarves?” Shannon double-blinked. “What are you talking about?”
Matthew knew, however. He smiled shyly, glancing at Kara and then back at his feet.
Shannon nudged him. “What scarves?”
His voice was barely audible as he explained, “Mom tied those up to keep away the deer. They were eating her garden.”
Kara asked, “Why was there hair in them?”
“Deer hate the scent of human hair. We put lots of scarves with hair in the woods.”
“What about Blacky?”
Matthew scowled. “He was a dumb dog. He was getting into the garden, so I tied him to a tree to keep him out. He jerked around, though. Killed himself. Dumb dog.”
So, Kara thought, swallowing, that’s how the dog had died. She refrained from asking for the location. She never wanted to know that.
Shannon glared at Matthew. “Nobody pays any attention to Matthew, which should’ve made him perfect for our plan. He was supposed to scare you, Kara. But he failed.”
But he had scared her; everyone in the room scared her.
Shannon continued, “So I had to take matters further. You telling me about Jack’s estranged father was perfect. Have him stalk you a bit, creep you out.”
Kara was stunned. “David was working with you guys?”
“No! We never met him. You’re the one who told me about him. You gave me the idea. Remember those texts you got about him? That was me and Tom.”
“Those texts came from my mom…”
Shannon smiled. “Pretty ingenious, huh? I put Tom’s number in your cellphone and labeled him, ‘Mom’. Hahaha! That wasn’t your mom texting! I’m kinda proud of that idea.”
“It was you? My mom never heard from David?”
“Nope. We just had to be careful not to say anything too threatening, so you wouldn’t call the police. I finally had to delete the message history. I don’t know, what do you think, Tom? Maybe one more text would’ve pushed Kara over the edge.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Tom said. “Let’s get on with this.” He stood up, but hesitated when they all heard shuffling.
“Is there a party going on?” John appeared in the hallway, his laptop bag slung over his shoulder.
Chapter Thirty-three
Tom lunged at John, but John jumped back. As Tom reached for him again, John whipped his laptop bag at him. It connected with Tom’s jaw, pushing him backward. Tom wobbled, but quickly regained his balance.
John’s eyes tore around the room, locating Kara, who was at the edge of the great room. “What the hell is going on?” Noticing her bound wrists, he side-stepped over to her, his laptop bag in front of him like a shield.
“I don’t know,” Kara confessed.
He glanced at the people in the kitchen—friends—before stooping to unzip the bag.
“Drop it, John,” Tom warned, moving to Kara’s other side, an arm behind his back.
John ignored him, reaching his hand inside the bag.
Tom’s fist shot out, smashing a wine bottle into the side of John’s head. John dropped the bag and staggered toward him, but Tom struck him again above his ear. John crumpled to the floor.
Kara screamed.
“Sit down!” Shannon ordered, charging toward Kara.
Kara ignored her, hopping over John’s legs and sprinting toward the hallway. Tom came up behind, yanked on her shoulder, and pulled her down. He dragged her across the floor to lie beside her unconscious husband.
Kara grabbed Tom’s ankle, dig
ging her fingernails in. He kicked her shoulder, making her let go. She rolled to her side so the wounded shoulder was off the floor. She inhaled deeply, then got to her knees and shimmied to the other side of the room. They watched her move away until she stopped at the bonus room door. She sprang to her feet, ignored the pain throbbing in her shoulder, and opened the door. She slipped in, and closed it to the sound of Tom’s reacting feet.
It was difficult to move, her balance off-center because of the rope cutting into her wrists. Ignoring the pain, she pushed the loose wood planks against the door. It wasn’t hard to push the pile that had been leaning against the near wall, but she knew there was no time to build a decent barricade. She knocked a box of nails over, the metal slivers scattering over the floor, as she clambered for another exit. She yanked on a window, but it wouldn’t budge, the abrupt stillness of the plastic sash against her fingers aggravating the pain burning in her shoulder.
Tom was pushing the door open, with Shannon close behind shouting obscenities. Their voices a faraway hum, Kara noticed a pale, wavering light in the backyard, near the tree line. She stared, watching it turn, firing into a streak of light until it twisted, and then suddenly, it raced right at her. She had no time to react. It drew near with a flash: a face appeared on the other side of the window. Its eyes were wide and its mouth was opening. Kara stared into that mouth, a black hole, opening wider. She was sinking into it, a drop of water vanishing into a pool of blackness. The face smacked into the window, opposite of Kara, the rattling of the pane startling her. Then the face was gone.
Kara looked out at the trees—thin, black stilts. Her head twitched, her heart raced. Ignoring the yells of her captors, she heaved her hands up and unlocked one of the locks in the top sash.
She didn’t have time to unlock the second.
Tom grabbed her under the armpits, yanking her to her knees. She cried in agony as he dragged her out, her knees sliding over nails and a two-by-four. He dropped her in the great room and reached for the playroom doorknob. Before he slammed the door shut, Kara saw the fluttering of a white scarf outside. Or she imagined she did.
Chapter Thirty-four
Jack hovered in the upstairs half-landing. When the downstairs voices had raised the first time, he had departed his bedroom, trusting the sturdiness of his new boot and leaving his crutches behind. He didn’t understand what was going on, but hearing his mom scream, he knew he had to do something.
He crept downstairs, holding onto the railing to balance as he wasn’t sure he had it yet. He trained his ears to listen to the adults speaking, which was difficult to do over the loud thrumming of his heart. When he cleared the last step, he hobbled across the foyer, his boot tapping against the tile. Sounds of scuffling coming from the back of the house convinced him to hide in the most immediate room, which was the office. The chandelier in the foyer and the outside porch light kept the room from being completely cast in darkness. He ran his hands over the desktop, his fingers bumping into a notebook, a cup of pens, a stapler. Was there a phone?
His back on the doorway, he combed clumsy hands over a shelf. He struck a mug, catching it before it hit the floor.
“What are you doing, Jack?”
The voice, female and clear, made him stop. His heart leapt into his throat. Wild-eyed, he slowly turned around to see who had caught him.
He saw Lilah.
It took him a moment to realize no adults surrounded him; it was just his sister, pushing curls out of her eyes. He exhaled before managing to hiss, “What are you doing down here?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” She blinked heavy eyelids, fighting sleep.
Mom’s scream woke you up, he thought.
“Go back to bed.” He didn’t understand what had been happening that evening, but he knew something bad was going down. He ushered her to the staircase. “Come on, let’s go back to bed.”
“Do I hear someone?” Shannon’s voice shot through the house.
His breath caught. He tugged on Lilah’s hand. Somehow, he was able to coax her to hurry back to her makeshift bed in his bedroom.
“Where’s my dolly?” she asked, crawling under the pile of blankets on the floor. He glanced around the room for it, having no idea where that stupid statue was, but looking at Lilah again, he saw she had turned away from him and her eyes were closed.
He started to turn away when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Someone was coming. He dove under his bedcovers, not bothering to wrestle the blanket over his booted leg. He turned his back to the door and shut his eyes, willing his heartbeat to slow down. He heard the door push open seconds later. Someone stood there, eyes trained on his back, surely watching the rise and fall of what should be steady breaths. He kept his eyes closed. Nothing could get him to open them at that moment.
Not unless his mom screamed.
And then, she did scream.
It took all of his will not to move.
Shannon cursed under her breath. “Jack?” Shannon whispered. “You awake?..Lilah?”
He kept his eyes clamped shut, imagining her watching him, her face inches from the top of his head. He hoped Lilah stayed asleep.
It felt like forever, but a moment later, he heard Shannon back away and close the door. He didn’t move. He was afraid that when he turned over, she’d be standing there, in the dark bedroom, watching him.
Shannon strode to the kitchen. “What happened?”
“She’s just making noises again,” Jane replied, scowling. She was leaning over the side of her kitchen chair, her eyes on Kara and Tom. Kara sat on the great room floor, her back against the couch Tom sat on. He had dragged John’s unconscious body to the opposite side of the room.
Shannon snapped, “Kara, we don’t need you waking the house, or the neighborhood, for that matter. Tom, let’s get this over with. I’m losing my patience.”
Tom squatted on the floor in front of Kara, looking like his old self. His face was open, kind, endearing even, as he explained something so bizarre, as if he were giving normal directions. “I brought the quit claim deed. All you need to do is sign it and all this will be over. We spend the night, with no harm to you and your family, and help you pack. You guys move out tomorrow. The property will then revert back to me.” He glanced at John’s prostrate body and said quietly, “I’ll get John’s signature later.”
Shannon placed her hands on her hips asking, “But how are we gonna get them to shut up about tonight? Not go to the cops?”
“This was your idea.” He shoved a hand through his hair.
“Are you kidding me right now?”
Jane muttered, “Typical.”
Shannon spun around. “What does that mean?”
Before Jane could reply, they all heard it, faintly, but distinctly, the sound of a door shutting.
“Who’s that?” Tom stood up and hurried toward the front of the house.
Kara stared at the empty hallway. Was somebody there to help her family? Or was someone else coming to team up against them?
The first floor waited in silence, all eyes on the hallway, listening to Tom move through the foyer, office, and mudroom. They heard the front door open slowly. There was a pause before it closed again. They listened to Tom take the stairs and move from room to room. A moment later he thumped downstairs, reappearing in the kitchen.
“The boy’s gone.”
Chapter Thirty-five
Jack had waited for a distraction, for the adults to speak in conversation before making his big move. If he stayed in the house, no one would know his family needed help. He thought about bringing Lilah, but realized quickly she’d be too slow, or worse yet, she’d whine, calling attention to them as they escaped.
He pressed weight down on his booted leg, testing its strength. He had done the stairs earlier without crutches. He had been slow, but he had been able to maneuver without them. He walked the length of his bedroom, not happy with his speed and limp, but he couldn’t chance using crutches, not if he wanted to slip outside
unnoticed.
Jack moved quietly but steadily, slinking along the wall as he hobbled downstairs. The adults were talking, but he couldn’t decipher their words. He paused when he reached the foyer. He glanced around, making sure he went undetected. This was it.
Satisfied, he hobbled to the front door and turned the knob easily. As the door yawned open, the crisp night breeze rolled over his face, the sensation wonderful. He stepped out onto the porch, easing the door shut behind him. He made no haste scrambling down the porch steps and over the gravel driveway. The air was chilly and the wind howled in misery, but it washed over him like a baptismal fount, a welcome exchange in contrast to the stifling house. Jack moved fast. It was as if invisible arms dragged him, propelling him forward.
“Leave…leeeeaaaavvve…” the wind whispered; the command was so clear, it was as if someone breathed it in his ear.
Jack developed a rhythm, hobbling around the house and across the side yard. Already the grass was covered in a frosted glaze, crunching under his sneaker-covered foot and the oversized black boot. In the slumbering night, he was so loud, signaling where he was headed.
The moon was a sliver, a useless slip of light in the murky night sky; it did nothing to guide him, but he knew the way. The grass that should’ve been cut one last time before the first frost of the season prodded his ankles as he pushed through thornbushes.
“Jack!” The bellow was Shannon’s.
He didn’t turn around. He pictured her on the deck, searching for him in the darkness. If he had turned around he would’ve seen her, the house light illuminating her from behind. He may not have been able to make out her features, but seeing her would’ve frozen him.
The adrenaline he burned through like fuel protected him. He had made it to the beat-up camper and quickly—and quietly—he pulled open the door, stepped onto the stairs, and entered the blackness.
Kara hoped neither of her children had made the noise that had alerted Tom. She prayed they were fast asleep, oblivious to the goings-on of the first floor. Their best strategy was to stay out of sight. She glanced at Shannon and Jane, their bodies turned away from the great room, before rising to her feet. Tom’s duffel bag had been moved to the top of the armchair that served as a divider between the breakfast nook and great room. She just needed to get to that bag, into his treasure trove.
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