still damp. But it wasn’t cold, as she’d been terrified it would be. She applied more pressure to the wrist. “I think I feel a pulse,” she told Daisy and Toni. “Not very strong, though. It’s really slow, like it’s thinking about stopping any minute now. But at least she’s still alive.”
“Are you sure?” Daisy said.
“Yes. But we have to do something, fast.” Molloy, for lack of anything better to do, swept an old, faded blue chenille bedspread from its folded spot on a chair and spread it over Lynne. “We have to get help. Help for Lynne … and help for us .”
“That cut on the side of her head looks nasty,” Daisy said. “Maybe we should try to clean it up. That might do her some good. I’ll run downstairs and get a wet washcloth.”
“Daisy!” Toni shrieked, clutching the elbow of Daisy’s wine velvet dress. “You are not going down there alone! No one is. There’s someone in this house! Someone who did that,” pointing with a shaking finger at Lynne.
“We don’t know that he’s in here. He could be gone by now,” Daisy said, without much conviction. “In fact,” her voice gathering strength, “I’ll bet anything he’s gone. Here’s what probably happened. He was hiding in the house for some reason—maybe he’s a homeless person and picked this place to get in out of the rain, just like we did. When we showed up, he decided to leave. Only when he went outside, Lynne surprised him by being at the woodbox. He panicked and hit her. Then he got scared, and decided to hide her so he’d have time to get away. Then he left.” She finished on a note of satisfaction.
Toni, anxious to believe her, asked, “You really don’t think he’s still here?”
“Nope. There was plenty of time for him to split before we locked the doors. Now they’re locked, so he can’t get back in even if he changes his mind.”
“The back door into the kitchen isn’t locked,” Toni reminded her. “We didn’t have the key, remember? All we could do was put the chain on.” She drew in her breath, almost whispering, “Maybe he has the key. Maybe he can come and go as he pleases.”
And that was when they all realized that the loose shutter had stopped banging against the house.
Toni said it first. “The hammering … it’s stopped.”
They listened.
“But the storm hasn’t,” Daisy said uneasily, “so why isn’t that shutter still making a racket? I mean, if it was loose before, it’s still loose, right? So why isn’t it still slamming away out there?”
They listened more intently.
There was no hammering sound.
“Maybe,” Toni said then, leaning against an upright trunk for support because the thought she was about to give voice to made her legs weak, “maybe that hammering wasn’t a loose shutter. Maybe it wasn’t even coming from outside.” The hand holding the flashlight dropped as if it could no longer carry the weight, and her words came out slowly, reluctantly. “Maybe … it … was … coming … from … inside.” She stared at Molloy and Daisy. “What if he’s been in here all along?”
“He hasn’t,” Daisy said, clearly struggling to convince herself as well as them. “He can’t be. After he attacked Lynne, he’d get as far away from here as possible. Probably ran like the wind. It was a shutter we heard, and it’s just stopped banging, that’s all. He’s not still here, so just don’t say that.”
“Whether he’s here or not,” Molloy said grimly, tucking the edges of the bedspread carefully under Lynne’s chin, “we have to figure out what to do. The phones are dead. Lynne needs an ambulance, but we can’t call one, and we can’t call the police, either. We can’t go outside because we don’t want to end up like Lynne. And we can’t start a fire in the fireplace so that someone will see the smoke and come running because we don’t have any wood.”
“Well, we can’t stay up here all night, either,” Daisy said. “I don’t
“Are you sure?” Daisy said.
“Yes. But we have to do something, fast.” Molloy, for lack of anything better to do, swept an old, faded blue chenille bedspread from its folded spot on a chair and spread it over Lynne. “We have to get help. Help for Lynne … and help for us .”
“That cut on the side of her head looks nasty,” Daisy said. “Maybe we should try to clean it up. That might do her some good. I’ll run downstairs and get a wet washcloth.”
“Daisy!” Toni shrieked, clutching the elbow of Daisy’s wine velvet dress. “You are not going down there alone! No one is. There’s someone in this house! Someone who did that,” pointing with a shaking finger at Lynne.
“We don’t know that he’s in here. He could be gone by now,” Daisy said, without much conviction. “In fact,” her voice gathering strength, “I’ll bet anything he’s gone. Here’s what probably happened. He was hiding in the house for some reason—maybe he’s a homeless person and picked this place to get in out of the rain, just like we did. When we showed up, he decided to leave. Only when he went outside, Lynne surprised him by being at the woodbox. He panicked and hit her. Then he got scared, and decided to hide her so he’d have time to get away. Then he left.” She finished on a note of satisfaction.
Toni, anxious to believe her, asked, “You really don’t think he’s still here?”
“Nope. There was plenty of time for him to split before we locked the doors. Now they’re locked, so he can’t get back in even if he changes his mind.”
“The back door into the kitchen isn’t locked,” Toni reminded her. “We didn’t have the key, remember? All we could do was put the chain on.” She drew in her breath, almost whispering, “Maybe he has the key. Maybe he can come and go as he pleases.”
And that was when they all realized that the loose shutter had stopped banging against the house.
Toni said it first. “The hammering … it’s stopped.”
They listened.
“But the storm hasn’t,” Daisy said uneasily, “so why isn’t that shutter still making a racket? I mean, if it was loose before, it’s still loose, right? So why isn’t it still slamming away out there?”
They listened more intently.
There was no hammering sound.
“Maybe,” Toni said then, leaning against an upright trunk for support because the thought she was about to give voice to made her legs weak, “maybe that hammering wasn’t a loose shutter. Maybe it wasn’t even coming from outside.” The hand holding the flashlight dropped as if it could no longer carry the weight, and her words came out slowly, reluctantly. “Maybe … it … was … coming … from … inside.” She stared at Molloy and Daisy. “What if he’s been in here all along?”
“He hasn’t,” Daisy said, clearly struggling to convince herself as well as them. “He can’t be. After he attacked Lynne, he’d get as far away from here as possible. Probably ran like the wind. It was a shutter we heard, and it’s just stopped banging, that’s all. He’s not still here, so just don’t say that.”
“Whether he’s here or not,” Molloy said grimly, tucking the edges of the bedspread carefully under Lynne’s chin, “we have to figure out what to do. The phones are dead. Lynne needs an ambulance, but we can’t call one, and we can’t call the police, either. We can’t go outside because we don’t want to end up like Lynne. And we can’t start a fire in the fireplace so that someone will see the smoke and come running because we don’t have any wood.”
“Well, we can’t stay up here all night, either,” Daisy said. “I don’t
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