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“Yes, Spex? What’s wrong?” she murmured.
“Pretty Abbey, Spex sees eyes watching,” he whispered, sounding even more afraid.
“What? Do you mean on the TV screen?” Abbey asked, frowning.
“No-no,” Spex murmured. “Eyes outside the window—watching Pretty Abbey.”
“What?” Abbey exclaimed. Her heart was suddenly pounding. There was a large picture window in her living room, directly across from the couch. Aunt Rose normally shut the curtains at night, but Abbey had forgotten to do that and she was sitting in full view of the window.
“Mean eyes!” Spex whispered, sounding more and more frightened. “Hurt-you eyes! Pretty Abbey, Spex thinks there’s a bad man outside!”
By now Abbey had come to trust her little Eye-pet completely. If Spex said there was a bad man in the bushes outside her house looking at her through the window, she believed him. The question was, what could she do about it?
Well, the first thing was not to let him know she knew he was watching, she thought. If he suspected she knew what was going on, he might try to break in immediately. She had to act casual and get someplace safe.
“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” she whispered, trying to look normal and keeping her face turned towards the lighted TV screen. “I’m going to get up and pretend I’m going to the bathroom. I’m going to take my phone with me and once we’re out of sight of the window, I’m going to call the police.”
“Will they send help for Pretty Abbey and Spex?” His little voice sounded doubtful. “Aren’t they the same ones who were mad at Pretty Abbey and fur-man that night?”
Abbey bit her lip—her little Eye-pet had a point. Captain Hogan pretty much hated her. He clearly blamed her and the other survivors who had come forward for the downfall of Chris Brander, who had been a kind of town hero before his history of attacking women had come out into the open. But surely the 911 operator wouldn’t know that—they would dispatch the police to her house if she called and asked for help—wouldn’t they?
“It’ll be fine,” she told Spex as she stretched, trying to look casual, and then rose from the couch. “They have to send help whether they like you or not.”
She hoped.
She slipped her phone, which had been resting on the couch beside her, into her pocket and then got off the couch. As she turned to go into the other room, she could feel someone watching her like an itching between her shoulder blades. Oh God, who was out there? Was it someone from Chris Brander’s family? Had his father decided to send someone to hurt her? Or was it Chris himself? Had he gotten out of the hospital and decided to take revenge?
Also, had Aunt Rose remembered to lock the door when she left for the convention? She had an absent-minded habit of leaving it unlocked, which was one reason Abbey always double checked it. But she’d been feeling too sad and lethargic to leave the couch, so she hadn’t gone behind her aunt to check after Rose left. What if it was open right now and all the watcher had to do was twist the knob and walk right into the living room?
Abbey had no answers to any of these questions—all she could do was keep walking, trying to act like nothing was bothering her as she made her way to the back of the house where her bedroom and bathroom were located.
She hesitated by the bathroom door for a moment, then moved past it and entered her bedroom. This door had a stronger lock—but was it strong enough to keep out a really determined intruder?
Abbey didn’t know and she hoped she didn’t have to find out.
Just as she was stepping into her bedroom, she heard a sound that froze her heart—it was the creaking of the front door. So Aunt Rose had forgotten to lock it—or else the intruder had picked the lock. Either way, whoever had been watching her from outside was now inside with her.
Dropping all pretense of calm, Abbey slammed her bedroom door shut and locked it. Then she backed away, heart pounding.
“Oh Aaaaaabbeeeeeey,” called a voice out in the hallway. “Abbey, babe—it’s me!”
“Oh my God!” Abbey felt sick—she knew that voice and it wasn’t Chris Brander.
“I missed you,” the intruder called and she could tell he was getting closer. “Where are you, babe? Did you miss me?”
Abbey fumbled for her phone, nearly dropping it in her haste.
“Call 911,” she whispered into it. “Call right now! Emergency!”
But nothing happened. She tried again.
“Call 911!” she exclaimed. “Come on—hurry!”
Then she remembered, with a sinking heart, that she’d forgotten to plug her phone up earlier. She’d been telling herself to do it before she sat down to watch the movie, but then she had gotten distracted explaining the plot to Spex and hadn’t plugged it in.
She had a dead phone in her hands and only a flimsy locked door between herself and the intruder. What was she going to do?
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