Finally a Family

Don’t panic. Don’t panic, she reminded herself, rolling over onto her side. How could there not be any extra bit of light?

What if she had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night? Surely she would bump into something, fall and break her neck on her way to turn on the light, and who would be here to hear her? Who would even notice her? She’d be lying on the floor for weeks before anyone discovered her.

Hannah flopped onto her back again, pushing the fear to the side. She was crazy. Certifiable. She knew Ethan was hoping she wouldn’t last the full six months. And maybe he was right. Maybe she was too much of a city girl. Maybe she was overestimating her ability to last. She didn’t have to do this, did she?

But she did. She had no choice. The thought slithered like a snake in her belly. After moving out of her mother’s apartment, she had made a vow that she was going to be in charge of her own life, that she wasn’t going to have circumstances dictate her choices.

And here she was, pushed into a corner like some reluctant rabbit by a friend who wasn’t a friend at all. Snake was a better word.

She sighed and punched the pillow, taking out her anger at Lizzie on the pillow. Louse. Rotter. Betrayer. Her anger with Lizzie combined with her latent anger with Alex. Whatever happened to faithfulness? To working on relationships?

A high-pitched howl pierced the night and Hannah shot up, looking fearfully around as another howl joined the first. The second one was much closer. Then a third chimed in, their eerie notes slithering down the scale.

From another part of the yard the dog started barking. Ethan’s dog, she assumed. Did it know something she didn’t know? Was something crouching in the darkness, waiting, watching, its dark red eyes glowing with anticipation?

Suddenly she wished for the quiet.

She lay back on the bed, counting backward from one hundred, like Sam had taught her to do when she was little and afraid of the dark. And as she counted, lying in the house that Sam had lived in up until just a few short weeks ago, it was as if she could hear him talking to her. Telling her it would be okay.

The memory comforted her. She kept counting, out loud, her monotone voice filling the sudden silence.

Which was broken by the creaking sound of a door opening downstairs.

Her heart pitched into her throat. That something she had thought was waiting, was now trying to get into the house.

But she had locked the door.

What was she supposed to do? Call the police?

Right. And how far away were they? By the time they got here she could be buried in the back forty, the murderer laughing all the way to the border.

Hannah grabbed her housecoat and pulled it on over her pajamas, determined that she was not going to be murdered in her bed. Then she saw a broom leaning against the door.

Pretty flimsy protection, but it was better than going down empty-handed.

And where was that dog? Shouldn’t he have been barking up a storm? Or maybe the dog was already dead. Maybe the murderer had gotten to Ethan and the dog first.

Too many horror movies, Hannah reminded herself, trying to corral her runaway thoughts. There’s a reasonable explanation for everything. It could be Ethan. Whom she would cheerfully hit with the broom. Had to be Ethan. But why would he be sneaking around?

Then she heard another creak downstairs and all coherent thought fled. Someone was in the house she had locked up securely and double-checked. And she was all alone.

She eased open the door, wincing as it creaked into the silence. She stopped, waited.

But as she listened, her ears hyperaware, she heard the sound of the floor creaking under cautious footsteps.

She might have a chance of getting out of the house. And then what? Run mindlessly through the yard as the intruder ran after her brandishing a knife?

Should she be praying right now?

If You help me through this, Lord, I’ll go to church, she promised, drawing in a long slow breath for courage. I can’t promise much more than that.

She paused, wondering if she would hear an answer. Then, realizing she couldn’t leave everything up to God, she slowly worked her way down the stairs, her hands clutching the broom in a death grip. She kept her back to the wall, her eyes darting around the gloom. The only things she could make out were the hulking forms of the couch and chair in the living room.

Oh Lord, I just want to get out of here alive. That’s all. Her prayer was instinctive but, at the moment, heartfelt.

The sudden flash of light blinded her. She held up her broom, took a panicked step toward the door and tripped over the hem of her housecoat.

This is it, she thought as she fell, a dark figure hovering over her. This is how it ends. In an isolated country house, in the middle of nowhere.

Hands caught her, hauled her up.

She made an ineffectual jab with her broom at the dark figure holding on to her.

“Hey, easy with that,” the intruder said, blocking her jab with one arm. “Someone could get hurt.”

Hannah blinked at the sound of the voice.

Ethan.

Chapter Five

“What are you doing?” he asked, still holding on to her.

She pushed at his hands, stumbled again as he let go of her. But as she regained her balance, fear gave way to anger.

“No. You don’t get to ask questions. I get to ask questions.” She blinked, her eyes adjusting slowly to the beam of light shining down on the entranceway. She dropped the broom and yanked on the ties of her housecoat. “And my question is, what are you doing here?”

“I forgot my coat.”

“But I locked the house.”

He held up a key chain. “Sorry. I have my own keys.”

Hannah’s overworked heart still hammered in her chest. “You shouldn’t do that. I thought—”

“You thought you were going to beat me to death with that broom.”

“That thought did cross my mind,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “You scared me half to death.”

“Sorry.” Ethan’s smile faded away and Hannah felt a moment’s regret. She hadn’t seen him smile since the first time they had met on the street corner. “Did you really think I was burglar?”

He had adopted a more neutral expression, but she knew he was still laughing at her.

“What else was I supposed to think? Usually when a person locks their door, it stays locked.”

“And here I was worried about waking you.”

Hannah swallowed, her heart finally returning to a more normal rhythm. “Well, I wasn’t sleeping.”