“Me, too,” Julie said.
Andie nodded. “Seven-thirty, it is. The tree house.”
17
Andie watched the clock, her feeling of dread increasing with each tick of the second hand. She fought the feeling off, calling herself chickenshit, worrywart. At seven-thirty it would still be light outside, too early for Mr. and Mrs. X to make an appearance. The three of them would go into the house, make sure there were no dead bodies anywhere, then take off. They would be there ten minutes, tops.
And then it would be over, behind them. She could do this, Andie told herself. It was no big deal.
Then why were her hands shaking? Why did she feel light-headed and winded, as if she had just run around the school gymnasium a half-dozen times?
Because she was scared. That they would be caught. That the couple would be there, and she would see them engaged in … what they did. And worst of all, that Julie would be right and they would find Mrs. X, dead. She didn’t know if she could handle that. She didn’t know if she would be able to live with that on her conscience.
Andie glanced at the clock above the kitchen sink, and her heart leaped to her throat.
Time had run out. Time to go.
She wiped her hands on the seat of her denim cutoffs and forced a deep breath into her lungs. Leaving the kitchen, she went to the family-room doorway. Her mother sat with Danny and Pete, watching some sports show on TV. One her dad used to watch with them.
“Mom?” Her mother looked over her shoulder. “The dishes are done. I’m going to go hang out with Julie and Raven for a while.”
Her mother smiled wanly. “Okay, honey. Have fun.”
Fun, Andie thought a moment later as she cut through her backyard, heading for Julie’s street. Her stomach rolled. Tonight was about anything but fun.
Raven was already there and waiting. Julie arrived only minutes after Andie. The three drew in what seemed a collective breath. Andie took charge. “We check the place, then we’re out of there. Right?”
The other two agreed, and they made their way to the house, circling around back. They went to the door; Raven retrieved the key from its hiding pace, unlocked and opened the door.
Before she could take a step inside, Andie caught her arm. “We’re in and out,” she said. “No messing around.”
“No messing around,” Raven repeated and stepped inside.
Andie, then Julie, crept in behind her. The first thing Andie noticed was the smell—stale, slightly sour. She wrinkled her nose. “What is that?”
“Oh, God …” Julie brought a hand to her stomach. “I bet it’s the … I bet it’s her!”
Raven shook her head and moved her gaze over the family room and adjoining kitchen. “No body here. No body parts, no blood.” At her friends’ horrified expressions, she laughed. “You two are the ones who started this gruesome quest. I’m only along to tell you I told you so after.”
Together they moved from room to room, checking corners and closets. Nothing appeared different than the first time they had been through.
Until they got to the master bedroom. It had a vaulted ceiling with exposed beams. Thrown over one was a rope.
The end of the rope was tied into a noose.
On the floor below sat two stools, a tall one directly under the noose, a short one beside it, the kind one keeps in a kitchen, to help with high cabinets.
For long moments, the girls said nothing, just stared.
“What the hell is that?” Andie asked. “I mean, what’s it for?”
The three looked at each other, eyes wide. “I don’t like this,” Andie said, taking a step backward, gooseflesh racing up her arms. “I want to get out of here.”
“Me, too.”
“Rave—”
Her friend was staring up at the beam and the rope. Something in her expression gave Andie the creeps. She realized that Raven hadn’t said a word since coming into this room. “Rave?” she said again, touching her friend’s arm. “Let’s go.”
Raven jumped, startled. “What?”
“This is creepy. Julie and I want to split.”
Raven didn’t argue. They started back the way they had come. Almost to the back door, they froze when they heard the unmistakable sound of the garage door rumbling shut.
Andie thought she was going to faint. The house’s interior was now almost completely in shadow, and she looked wildly around her. Not again, she thought, hysteria exploding inside her. She was not going to be trapped in here again. She grabbed Julie’s hand and bolted for the door. She wrenched it open and stumbled out, Julie behind her, almost crying out with relief.
From the house she heard the sound of another door opening, then a man’s voice. Followed by a woman’s. Andie pulled the door shut and ran for the cover of the adjoining wooded lot.
She reached it and ducked behind a tree, breathing hard. It was then she saw Raven wasn’t with them. Her heart flew to her throat, and she looked frantically around them. “Where’s Rave?” she asked, sounding as panicked as she felt.
Julie met her eyes, hers wide with horror. They simultaneously realized the same thing.
Raven hadn’t made it out. She was in that house with Mr. and Mrs. X.
18
Inside the house, Raven eased closer to the crack between the door and the jamb, heart pounding. When she had heard the rumble of the garage door opening, when she had realized it was them, she had turned and run back here, to the bedroom, to the closet.
She drew in a deep, quiet breath, afraid and excited, trembling with anticipation. From her hiding place she could see only a sliver of the room beyond. But she saw the rope. The stools.
Mr. and Mrs. X.
They held each other, whispering things Raven couldn’t make out. Mrs. X seemed agitated. Even frightened. Was she frightened of him? Raven wondered. The rope? Or of something else. Someone else?
“Take off your clothes,” he said quietly.
Mrs. X shook her head, clinging to him. “I don’t want to.” Her voice quivered slightly, then broke. “Don’t make me.”
“Take off your clothes,” he said again, this time sharply, setting her away from him. “I don’t want to punish you, but I will.”
Whimpering, she did as he asked, removing one garment after another, her movements halting. She peeled away the last and stood before him, naked and trembling, head bowed.
“The ring,” he said. “Remove it.”
Raven pressed closer to the sliver of space, upper lip wet with perspiration. She saw Mrs. X struggling to get a ring off her finger. Her fourth finger. A wedding ring, Raven realized. Mrs. X was married. To somebody else.
“You belong to me,” Mr. X said, taking a step closer. “Don’t you?”
The woman lifted her face to his. Raven saw that she was crying. “Yes,” she whispered.
He reached out and curved his hand around her breast, but not gently, roughly, as if asserting his possession. “You’re mine.”
“Yes,” she said again.
“And I can do anything