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“For you?”

“For both of us.”

“And Simon?”

“If she hasn’t taken him yet.”

“She’s taking him.”

“We get along or we’re all fucked.” I smile at the door. “You don’t want to let her down.”

“I’ll survive the disappointment.”

“That’s what the others probably thought.”

Nothing moves behind the door. I take a bite.

“What others?”

Smartass Oliver doesn’t know something I know.

“The dolls before me.”

“How many?”

“She never told me.”

“Where are they?”

I lick sugar from my thumb. “In the backyard.”

Something knocks softly against the wall, as though Oliver sat down harder than he meant to.

“Dead?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve seen them?”

“No.”

“So Heather told you they’re there.”

“She told me enough.”

“And you believe her.”

I look down the hallway at my open bedroom door. “She dressed them before she buried them.”

Oliver doesn’t answer.

“She did their hair too,” I say. “One last time.”

The room stays quiet. I remember eating cold eggs while bodies waited beneath the grass.

Finally Oliver says, “You’re taking the word of the woman who kidnapped you.”

“You’re locked in a room she built for you almost a year before she brought you home. I’d start taking some of her words seriously.”