“Thanks, dear. No sugar, just cream,” she said.
“No sugar?” I asked, surprised. His mother usually added a heaping tablespoon of sugar to her coffee, tea, oatmeal - you name it.
She rested her hands on her voluptuous hips and belly.
“I’m cutting out sugar. At least in my coffee, to start. We’ll see how it goes.” She winked at me.
“House-frau, bring me the canapés as well,” Sammy called, blowing me kisses.
“I don’t even know what canapés are,” I told him. “But I’ll bring you a coffee.”
I selected Sammy’s favorite mug, which depicted a werewolf howling at the moon, and a purple flowery one for Helen. I leaned in and inhaled the coffee before pouring the three of us steaming mugs.
Through the window, I watched the waves lap rhythmically at the shore. A crest of white washing in, massaging the stones, then pushing back out. Frothy white clouds marred the blue sky, and I hoped they would part in the afternoon so we could take Isis to play outside. Methodically I prepared our coffees, pulling cream from the refrigerator and sugar from the cupboard, stirring and setting the silver spoon in the sink.
I arranged the coffees on a tray.
As I walked from the kitchen, I glanced at the counter and paused. Next to the carton of cream, a small plastic bottle of blue antifreeze sat open, the red cap resting beside it.
“Where’s the sugar?” I asked, scanning the counter.
I distinctly remembered taking it out and scooping sugar into Sammy’s coffee but I hadn’t put it back, had I?
“Need help, babe?” Sammy called from the living room.
I heard him get up, knew he’d walk in any moment.
I dropped the tray of coffees on the floor. The glass shattered, startling me from my momentary reverie. Before Sammy could burst into the kitchen, I grabbed the antifreeze and stuck it under the sink.
Sammy rushed in, jumping back before he stepped in the broken glass and spilled coffee.
“Whoa, what happened?”
Helen followed, her face pinched with worry.
“I stupidly tried to balance them in one hand,” I lied, grabbing rags and dropping to the floor. “I’ve got this.” I shooed them away. “I’ll bring fresh cups in just a minute.”
“No, babe,” Sammy said grabbing the broom. “I don’t want my Gorey cutting her pretty fingers.”
I nodded but didn’t trust myself to look at him.
“And I’ll get the coffee,” Helen added.
“I broke the werewolf mug,” I said miserably, holding up a piece of glass.
“Guess I’ll have to switch to my Zombies in Love mug, then,” he told me.
When I didn’t respond, he leaned close and tilted my face toward his. “Honey, it’s okay. It was just a mug.”
I nodded, fighting tears at the backs of my eyes and glancing toward the cupboard beneath the sink.
I OPENED my eyes and stared into the dark canopy that hung suspended above our four-poster bed. My heart thudded in my chest, and I balled my fists at my sides. My entire body buzzed with adrenaline, as if I had not just woken from a deep sleep, but had been running a sprint.
Sammy snored beside me.
I turned and stared at his profile in the dark.
Whatever had awoken me had not awoken him.
I lay still for another minute. It must have been a dream. I rolled to my side and closed my eyes.
Close by, something thumped against the ground.
My eyes shot open, and I stared in the direction of the sound. It had come from the opposite side of the room. A tall bureau stood there. Next to that, a pile of Sammy’s clothes sat on a large chest.
I stared into the darkness, tracing the outline of familiar shapes, halting at something that didn’t fit. The top of the object was rounded like a head, though it stood only a few feet tall.
I squinted, trying to make sense of it. One of Sammy’s life-sized comic book figures? I hadn’t seen one when I went to bed. In fact, he’d only brought two into the house, and he kept them in the study.
I closed my eyes and blinked them open, expecting the shape to disappear, a late-night trick of the mind - but no, it hovered there at the edge of the chest.
It was watching me.
My stomach clenched at the thought, and I reached a clammy hand beneath the covers until I found Sammy’s arm.
“Sammy,” I whispered, watching the silhouette in the darkness. Had it moved?
“Sammy, wake up!” I said louder.
He mumbled and pulled his arm away.
The silhouette stepped away from the wall. It moved toward a small shaft of moonlight on the wood floor. I saw the feet of the thing, a child’s feet, streaked with black.
“Sammy!” I screamed, sitting up and fumbling for the lamp beside my bed.
He shot up next to me, eyes and hair wild as the light cast away the shadows.
“I’m up, I’m up,” he bellowed, pushing the covers off and stepping from the bed.
I turned, pointing at the child, but no one stood next to the chest. No child or anything resembling one. The wall was empty, the floor bare except for a blanket discarded by Isis.
“What is it, Corrie? Isis? Is Isis awake?” He rubbed his eyes and blinked at me.
I opened my mouth, ready to blurt what I had seen, and then I closed it. The way he looked at me gave me pause, as if I were delicate, unbalanced.
“No, I… I thought I saw a rat running along the floor.”
He frowned, sitting heavily on the bed.
“A rat?”
It was hardly a believable story. I’d never been afraid of rats, and on more than one occasion I’d rescued the little rodents from our cats.
“Yes. I’m sorry, Sammy. I was half asleep, and it spooked me.”
Sammy yawned and lay back on his pillow, reaching a hand to rub my back.
“It’s okay, babe. Juts go back to sleep. Lucas had an exterminator out here a week before we moved in. There are no rats.”
I nodded.
“Kill the light,” he murmured, closing his eyes.
I reached toward the light switch, watching the empty space where something, someone, had stood moments before. I was irrationally sure when I flicked off the light, the person would reappear - only visible in darkness. I turned the switch and held my breath, but the room remained empty.
As I shuffled back beneath the comforter, I wanted to pretend I had imagined it, but I knew better. A child had been standing in our room.
CHAPTER 12
Now
Sarah
Reluctantly, Sarah walked into Detective Collins’ office. He’d called that morning and asked her to come in. For reasons she didn’t understand, the thought produced a withering sense of dread.
“Do you recognize this person?” he asked when she stopped in front of his desk.
Sarah studied the picture of a young man with striking green eyes and long black hair past his ears. His mouth was set in a grim line.
“No, should I? Did he kill Sammy?” She studied the detective’s face, but he gave nothing away.
“I’m not sure. But I do know he was at your brother’s party and he wasn’t invited.”
“And?” Sarah waited for the detective to elaborate.
“He has a history with Kerry Manor. He’s tried to burn it down twice. Last year he was arrested for vandalizing it during the renovations, and he attacked Dane Lucas, the man who bought the house.”
Sarah’s eyebrows rose and she leaned closer to the picture, trying to draw him out from that night. The problem was that everyone wore costumes. She might have had a half-hour conversation with him and not known it because he was tucked behind a goblin mask.