The Narrows(31)

An indistinct rattling sound came from the kitchen. Brandy froze. The rattling stopped. Her mouth suddenly dry, she licked her lips before saying, “Tabby? Honey, is that you?”

The girl did not answer.

Peeling herself away from the window, Brandy crossed the living room into the kitchen. The only light came from the single bulb over the sink. She glanced around the kitchen, finding it empty, and realized that Tabby would have had to cross through the living room to get into the kitchen. Brandy would have seen her.

When she looked toward the door that led from the kitchen out to the side of the house, Brandy suddenly realized what that rattling sound had been—the doorknob. She suddenly felt vulnerable, standing there in the middle of the kitchen in the dark.

There’s a boy outside my window, Brandy thought, her eyes locked on the oval of pebbled glass in the center of the door. Beyond, black shapes were distorted and bled into one another. Brandy held her breath and waited for a figure to materialize beyond the glass. Waited…

And then it happened—the silhouette of a person appeared on the other side of the door, a darker cutout against a less dark background. She felt her heart seize in her chest. As she stood there watching, the figure moved. Something like an arm extended, distorted behind the textured glass. A second later, the doorknob rattled again; she could see it jiggling from halfway across the kitchen.

“Go away,” she called to the intruder, her voice no stronger than a slight wind. She slid across the floor and snatched the telephone off the wall. “I’m calling the police.”

The figure placed a palm on the glass. Brandy felt as though her entire body were about to crumble to powder.

“Brandy,” the stranger said on the other side of the door. The intruder was male, his voice muted. “Open up. It’s me.”

She blinked, suddenly recognizing the voice. She hung the phone up, went to the door, unlocked it, and pulled it open.

Grinning, Jim Talbot stood there with his hands in the pockets of his varsity jacket.

“Oh my God, you scared the hell out of me,” Brandy said in one nervous, shaky breath. “Jim, what are you doing here?”

“I heard you were babysitting, thought I might drop by.”

“You scared the kid, too. She saw you outside her window.”

“Can I come in?”

“Come on, Jim…”

“What do you say, Brandy?” He was glancing over her shoulder into the darkened kitchen. “Is the kid in bed?”

“She is, but you know you can’t come in.”

“Aw, man, you hurt my feelings,” he said playfully. “You look good.”

Her face went hot. “Thanks. So do you.”

“What time do you get off? A bunch of us are heading into Garrett to catch a midnight movie.”

“I can’t. I gotta be home.”

“Oh. That’s too bad.” He looked down at his feet, giving her enough time to admire the perfect part in his dark hair. When he looked back up at her, his trademark lopsided grin was back. “You excited about the dance?”

“Yes!” She cringed inwardly at the force of her response.

Jim laughed. “You got something to wear yet?”

“Not yet, but I know what I’m gonna get.”

“I’ve got this pretty badass tie that lights up. You’ll die when you see it.”

“Sounds awesome.”

Again, Jim peered over her shoulder. She thought she saw the vaguest frown in his features, but it was gone so quickly she couldn’t be sure. “I really can’t come in?” he asked again.

“You really can’t, Jim. The Olsons would flip.”

“I’ll sneak out when they pull up in the driveway.”

“Too risky. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

He scuffed one of his Converse sneakers on the step. “Yeah, okay. Cool. Talk to you later.”

She watched him hop down the stairs and vanish into the darkness. For some time she could hear his sneakers crunching over dead leaves and breaking sticks, but those sounds vanished soon enough, too.



5



It was ten thirty when the Olsons got home and Bob Olson offered to drive Brandy home. She accepted the offer, and the drive was blessedly quick, as Bob was not the best conversationalist. As they pulled up outside the Crawly household, Brandy undid the seat belt and thanked him for the ride. Bob Olson was looking past Brandy, out the passenger window at the house.

“Looks like you got something going on tonight, hon,” he said. There was an uncharacteristic tinge of compassion in his voice.

Brandy looked and saw a police car parked in the driveway.





Chapter Four


1


Ben turned and saw Wendy Crawly’s daughter come through the kitchen door. She had obviously seen the cruiser out front and had a look of terror on her face. Both Ben and Wendy had been seated at the kitchen table; now, Wendy stood and went quickly over to her daughter.

“Mom?” the daughter said, her voice shaking, her face about to break apart. She hugged her mother.

“He hasn’t come home yet,” Wendy said. Her voice was equally as fragile. “Nothing has happened, he just hasn’t come home.”

Ben stood rigidly from the table. This was the second night in a row that saw him working late hours and he was exhausted. Despite his protestations, Wendy Crawly had poured him a cup of coffee when he’d arrived ten minutes ago and until now he hadn’t touched it. Sighing, he picked it up and took a sip. It was very hot and very strong.