He whimpers. But it sounds a million miles away. Or maybe I can’t hear him over Scott Clark’s ranting. I race across to the sofa to switch off the TV.
“Trust in the Lord or perish in his wrath. He is coming for us all soon! Are you ready for salva—”
The sudden silence is relieving until something to the left catches my eye—outside, a figure ducks out of sight.
Was someone just peeping in? Or was that my reflection?
My head is swimming. A cup of caffeine would help me think straight, strategize how to extract my beloved dog from the depths of hell.
“This is my house,” a voice echoes up from the basement. A woman’s voice, raspy and distinct.
My jaw drops.
What the fuck was that!
The room is silent again. Maybe I was hearing things, in my groggy state. Or maybe this is another dream? ’Cause there’s no way in hell I just—
CREEEEAK
The sound floats up from the basement, the sound of weight on wood, like someone taking a first step on the staircase. But that’s impossible. This is just an old house. Old house, old-house noises. But . . . old houses can’t form real words.
CREEEEAK
Another step.
Somebody is down there. And she has Buddy!
Soaking in dread, I grip the remote to my chest, heart thrashing, unable to tear my eyes away from the open door. I’m too far from the kitchen to grab a weapon. But I can make a run for it, past the basement, and scream for help.
CREEEEAK
“My house,” the voice whispers. “Myhousemyhousemyhouse.”
“Mom?” I whimper. “I—”
Suddenly, a blast of music cuts through the walls, flooding the house, and I drop to my knees. Music? Coming from upstairs. I glance at the open basement door one last time and bolt for the stairs.
“MOM! MOM!”
“Mari! Mari?” Mom shouts over the music as she runs out of her bedroom. “What’s wrong? What are you doing?”
Alec stumbles after her. “What’s going on?”
Piper is already in the hallway, seemingly unbothered. She takes one look at me and covers her ears. “Daddy! It’s too loud!”
Sammy tumbles out of his room . . . with Buddy.
“Buddy!” I gasp, diving on the floor for him, overcome with relief. Sammy, covering his ears, slips into my room and turns off the speaker.
“Dude, what the hell?”
“Someone’s downstairs!” I sob. “Someone’s in the basement!”
Mom gathers me up in her arms and looks at Alec.
He nods. “You guys stay here.”
Piper clutches him. “Daddy, no.”
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Alec descends the stairs slowly, peering over the banister, then disappears out of sight. Piper fidgets on the balls of her feet, staring. We wait three long excruciating minutes before he reappears at the bottom step.
“Can you guys come here for a sec?”
Cautiously, we all march down and gather in the kitchen. Alec stands at the now-closed basement door and yanks it.
“It’s locked,” he says flatly.
Mom frowns, looking to me for answers.
“I swear, it was open! I swear!” My voice hits a hysterical peak.
Alec shakes his head. “I’m taking Piper back to bed. Come on, sweetheart.”
Piper gives me a knowing smirk before taking Alec’s hand.
“Mari,” Mom starts, twisting her hands together. “Have you been—”
“Don’t!” I snap. “Just say you don’t believe me, but don’t accuse me of anything else!”
Mom and Sammy exchange worried glances.
“Forget it,” I groan, heading for bed, taking a quick second to peek outside, seeing that truck parked across the street and watching the house.
Again.
Ten
“BEFORE WE WALK in here,” Alec says from the driver’s seat in his suit and tacky tie, “let’s just go over the rules again, shall we?”
I roll my eyes. “What’s there to go over?”
“Well, we . . . just want to make sure we don’t have an incident like last time with Mr. Sterling,” Mom says delicately.
“I said, I won’t say anything. And if you were so worried about it, you could’ve left me home.”
“It’d look strange if the whole family came tonight and you weren’t with us,” Mom counters. “Might seem like you have a problem with Mr. Sterling.”
“Which you don’t, right?” Alec warns, glaring at me through the rearview mirror.
“Guess you should’ve brought Buddy instead.”
“I don’t have a problem with him, Daddy,” Piper chimes in with a smile, her hair in bouncy pigtails.
“Can we just get this over with?” Sammy asks. “Some of us gave up a gaming tournament to be here tonight.”
As usual, I can always count on Sammy to have my back.
Alec and Mom share an exhausted look before opening the car doors, and we all pile out.
Tonight is the Sterling Foundation’s first open house at their new office on the Riverwalk. The glass building is filled with historic Cedarville memorabilia: old black-and-white photos blown up poster size, an interactive timeline that borders the lobby, digital installations, art made by locals . . . even a 1920s car, apparently built in one of the shut-down factories.
“Wow,” Sammy says as we make our way around the room.
Alec grabs two glasses of wine from one of the waiters carrying around a tray. “Pretty fancy, right?”
“Ooooh! Hello! There you are!” Irma waves from a distance, clapping her hands as she heads toward us.
“Hey, Irma,” Mom says.
“Great to see you all! Raquel, can I steal you away for a moment? I’d like to introduce you to a few of our board members before the big speech.”
“Yes, of course.”
Mom raises an eyebrow at me before walking off. Another warning to behave myself. I don’t know why she’s acting all coy around these people. She’s the one who raised me to ask questions, be curious, and speak my mind. So really, my keen observation skills and comprehension is her fault.
Alec parades Piper around the room, showing off his prize possession to . . . well, I actually don’t know who any of these people are. Only person I recognize is Ms. Fern, but no else from our side of town. A bunch of white people dressed up in fine threads and heels, the most I’ve seen since the house fire.
Hiding in the corner, I fidget in the dress Mom insisted I wear, stuffing my mouth with spinach quiches, while Sammy plays with one of the touch-screen setups, giving us a digital overview of Cedarville’s history. On the opposite side of the room is a giant screen behind a large stage, I suppose to project a film or something during the presentation Irma mentioned.
This is fancy. Almost too fancy considering everything we’ve seen in this city. The budget for this event alone could’ve cleaned up a block or two.
I spot Mr. Sterling by the stage with Mom, talking to a group of people. Tonight’s suit is crisp black, which brings out his dark eyes. Mom nods with a plastered-on smile, shaking hands. Despite looking a little unsettled, it’s good to see so many people praise her.