Page 9 of The Intruder

“You had that bad dream?”

I admitted to Lee once, on the one night when I stupidly opened up to him a little bit, that I have a recurring dream that I’m on fire. It really freaks me out, and when I wake up, I’m covered in sweat and usually can’t get back to sleep for the rest of the night.

I can’t remember how it came up, but I was immediately sorry I told him. He’s easy to talk to, and it just popped out. Once you say something, you can’t unsay it. And if you don’t trust someone, the last thing you want to do is admit you have dreams of being burned alive.

“I’m okay,” I say. “I always sleep well during storms. Something about the sound lulls me to sleep.”

“Are you sure there isn’t anything you need?” he presses me. “Because once the storm starts, I won’t be able to run over here so easily. And the phone lines will probably go out so you won’t be able to call me.”

He’s right about the phone lines. Despite the fact that phone lines are supposed to be protected during storms, there must be something wrong with the copper wiring of our phone cables, because the phones go out even when it just rains. Rudy always has to get a guy to come out and fix it. Although to be fair, most of the time, I barely even notice the phone is there. I don’t get many calls.

Lee notices my hesitation. “Tell me. Whatever it is, I can try to take care of it.”

“Um…” I finger the silver chain I always wear around my neck. “You weren’t…you weren’t walking around the back of my house about ten minutes ago, were you?”

He frowns. “No, of course not. Why?”

“Never mind,” I say quickly. “It was probably just a deer.”

Damn, I was hoping it was somehow him and he had an explanation for everything, although I knew it wasn’t possible that pale face belonged to the bearded man before me. For a moment, I consider telling him about the alleged face at the window and the movement I saw by the toolshed. The figure that almost looked human but very well might have been a rabbit or just a strong breeze. He’s already here—it would be easy enough for him to take his flashlight and look around the shed. He would be thrilled to do it for me, and I would sleep easier at night if he did. Maybe it would be good to have some backup.

Then again, I hate the idea of asking him to do it. I don’t need a man to make sure there isn’t a bogeyman hiding in my shed, for Christ’s sake. I can check it out myself if I get concerned. I’m perfectly capable of that.

Also, I’ve got the dead bolt. Nobody is getting in here that easily.

“All right then.” Lee stuffs his hat back on his head. “If you’re determined to stick it out, then I wish you luck. And if the phones are working, you can give me a call if you need anything. Anything at all—I mean it.”

I’ll just bet he does.

The door to the cabin sticks, and when I wrench it open, it looks like the rain has already started. It’s not coming down as violently as it likely will be in an hour or two but enough that Lee will get drenched during the five-minute walk back to his own cabin.

“You got an umbrella?” I ask him.

He looks up at the sky, then down at the mud forming below his Workman boots. “Damn,” he says.

“I’ll lend you one. I’ve got a ton.”

I dash back into the cabin and pull out one of the half dozen umbrellas organized at the back of my closet. I bring it out to Lee, who is waiting in my doorway, his hood up.

“Thank you, Casey.” He levels his blue eyes at me. “Be careful tonight.”

“Same to you.”

Lee charges out into the night, my maroon umbrella protecting him from the downpour, although the rain is becoming increasingly horizontal. As I watch him disappear into a clearing in the woods that leads back to his cabin, my shoulders sag in relief. Even with my crappy roof, I’m glad he’s gone.

I go back into my cabin to remove the duct tape from my windows, trying to tell myself this will all be fine. Yes, this is the first big storm since I’ve lived here. But I’m prepared. I mean, it’s not even snow. This is New England—a rainstorm is barely a blip out here.

So why can’t I shake the feeling that something terrible is going to happen tonight?

7

BEFORE

ELLA

There’s a fish tank on my desk.

I wish I could say that I am exaggerating, although I don’t know how you exaggerate something like this. Anyway, I’m not. There is a freaking aquarium on the desk in my room where I need to do my homework. Except I can’t do it because of the aforementioned tank.