“And it is,” Heather said. “But it’s also what happened. People know it, too. Well – everyone of my generation. They’ve all heard the stories. They were there when Shanks started coming after me and my friends. They might not believe the story anymore, they may have come up with more rational explanations or dismissed the whole thing as nonsense, but a part of them still believes.”
“That’s why they beat up those kids last year,” said Milo.
“Poor little Walter,” Heather said, nodding. “I’ve heard his theory, that this is all some plot to get kids to behave themselves. If I were him, I’d probably think the same. But keeping the dollhouses at the school was our way of honouring Shanks’s victims – remembering them even if we couldn’t come right out and tell everyone what had really happened. The people who beat up those kids probably didn’t even understand why they were so angry – not consciously, at least. But this entire town has been scarred by Dacre Shanks, and he still haunts us.”
“How did you stop him?” Amber asked.
“First thing I did was steal his key. Then I trapped him. I managed to fool him into trapping himself, actually, in the fourth dollhouse. I was the only one of my friends to survive, and I barely did that.”
She lifted her top to show them a jagged scar across her belly.
“Cool,” breathed Glen.
Amber watched as Heather cast a furtive glance at Milo and then, almost like she’d just realised what she’d done, she blushed, and busied herself with tucking in her shirt.
“Where’s the dollhouse now?” Amber asked.
“Why?”
“We … we need to talk to Dacre Shanks.”
Heather stopped what she was doing. Thirty seconds passed in which nothing was said. Even Glen stayed quiet.
“Who are you?” Heather finally asked.
“We just need to ask him something,” Amber said. “Just one thing and then we’ll be gone.”
“Who are you?”
Amber tried figuring out the best way to say what she had to say. “Some people want to kill me. They’re monsters, I guess. Like Shanks. They won’t stop until I’m dead. My only hope is to find this guy we’re looking for and Shanks is the only one who knows his name.”
“They’re like Shanks?”
Amber nodded. “And there’s five of them. Please, Heather, all I want is to ask him this guy’s name.”
“I’d like to help,” Heather said. “I really would. But no one talks to Shanks. No one. Any opportunity to get free, he’ll take it.”
“We won’t do anything to risk—”
“I’m sorry,” said Heather. “He’s killed too many people already. I’ve kept him trapped by not letting anyone know he’s there, and certainly not letting anyone talk to him. You’re just going to have to find another way to get what you need.”
“There is no other way,” said Milo.
“Then I’m sorry. I truly am. But if Shanks gets free it won’t be you he goes after. It’ll be me. It’ll be people from this town. Springton will go back to being his hunting ground.”
“Maybe we can help,” said Amber. “He’s trapped in a dollhouse – but how secure can that be? Those kids easily trashed two of the dollhouses kept at the school. He will eventually be found.”
“And I suppose you have a better way?”
“We’ll take the dollhouse away from here,” Milo said. “Destroy it, bury it, burn it, whatever.”
“Too risky. Sorry, but I’m not going to change my mind. My mom suggested I talk to you, and I’ve talked to you. If I had known you wanted to actually communicate with him, I’d never have agreed to it. If my mom had known that, I doubt she’d have even mentioned you to me. I can’t help you, and I won’t help you. I’m sorry about that, I really am. But I have to ask you to leave the library.”
Amber had no argument left, and so she found herself walking out into the sunshine with Glen and Milo at her heels.
“Huh,” she said. “I didn’t think she’d actually say no. I mean, I should have but I didn’t. We can’t make her tell us where she’s keeping Shanks, can we? I’m … I have no idea what to do now. What do we do?”
Glen shrugged. “How about we break into her house?”
Amber frowned. “Seriously?”
“Of course. This is life or death, right? You need to speak to this guy, so let’s search her place and find him, then get the hell out of here before her dad comes after us with his gun. Do we know where she lives?”
“Pine Street,” said Milo.
“There you go,” Glen said, clapping his hands. “That’s our plan, right?”
Amber looked at Milo.
“Sure,” said Milo. “That’s our plan.”
Pine Street was a picket-fence affair: neat lawns and trimmed hedges and not one oil stain on a single driveway. They found the Medina house without a problem, passed it and drove down to the corner. Amber and Glen walked back, rang the doorbell and waited. They chatted about nothing, but they did so loudly and with much false cheer. A neighbour walking her dog glanced at them. They smiled politely, and rang the doorbell again.
The door opened, and Milo let them in.
While they searched, Milo did his best to patch up the window he had broken. He left money on the table for the damage. The dollhouse wasn’t in any of the rooms. The attic was empty. The cellar was bare.
The dollhouse wasn’t there.
They got back to the Charger.
“Okay,” said Glen, “I’m out of ideas.”
“It’s in the library,” Amber said. “It is, isn’t it? Big old place like that probably has a hundred rooms that aren’t being used. I bet they have big old locks on the doors, too.”
“If the dollhouse is not where she lives,” said Milo, “then it’s probably where she works.”
Glen sounded grumpy in the back seat. “It’ll take ages to search that place.”
Milo started the car. “Then I guess we’ll have to do it at night.”
THE LIBRARY WAS CREEPY when it got dark.
The staff turned out the lights and locked up. Heather Medina was the last to leave. When the silence had settled and ten minutes had passed, Amber and the others emerged from the restroom where they’d been hiding. The occasional bright sweep of headlights from the street outside was the only illumination they were granted as they made their way through the maze of bookcases. Those lights sent shadows dancing and flitting from floor to wall to ceiling, and each one set Amber’s heart to drumming.
They split up, their task made easier when Glen found a set of keys lying in the office inbox. Locked doors swung open and revealed storage spaces, boxes of books and plaster busts gathering dust. They found desks piled on top of each other and a room full of broken chairs.
Finally, they found a door at the end of a dark and windowless corridor for which they had no key. Milo knelt and proceeded to pick the lock. It took a lot longer than Amber expected.
When the last tumbler slid