Page 83

“Did she throw it hard enough to turn it into mashed potatoes?” Sadie asked.

I started laughing.

The tension broke.

Riot wanted to know whether the potato had been wrapped in foil. Ruckus informed him that was beside the point.

“Foil would hurt more, could scratch you too,” Riot pointed out.

“I guess,” Ruckus said as though humoring him.

For the rest of dinner, nobody mentioned Bancroft or the attic killer.

But they stayed with me. Not their names.

The watching.

Someone learning every ordinary piece of a family until he knew exactly when they were vulnerable.

I hated that more than the gore.

Maybe because gore was an ending.

Watching was what came before.

And it could go on indefinitely.

I started awake.

The specific noise that woke me was once again a mystery as I roused.

As was the time. I glanced at my bedside clock while I was still blinking awake.

Dark.

I could make out its shape. It was there, but off, which meant it was either unplugged or the power was out.

The room felt darker than I was used to.

It was so dark I couldn’t even see the faint wash of window light that usually caught in the mirror behind my door.

But most troublesome was the fear. That paralyzing fear was back.

I could not move because of it, even while I wracked my brain for what had woken me in such a state.

Something was horribly wrong.

My body knew it, even if my mind didn’t want to believe it.

My parents were home.

My badass of a father was just a few doors down the hallway.

Logically, I knew I should not be this scared.

But logic had left the building.

Had it been the dog again that woke me? But no. Max was still missing, still gone, over a week later. My parents hadn’t gone out at night since.