door. A padlock hung on the frame, but the metal plate that should have been screwed to the door had been torn loose. She curled her fingers around the cold knob, and eased the door open. It groaned on its hinges. The noise made Janice grit her teeth.
Nobody can hear that, she told herself. Nobody has lived here for thirteen years. And there is no ghost.
She stepped into the house.
J anice pushed the creaking door shut slowly, wishing it would keep quiet. Then there was silence except for the soft sound of the rain. For a long time, she stood close to the door without moving. She hardly dared to breathe.
She felt as if she were not alone in the house.
It's only nerves, she thought.
But what if someone had come in after Lyle broke the lock off the door? Or what if Lyle had talked a friend into waiting inside to scare her? He might have done that.
Janice raised her flashlight. Its pale beam lit a stairway just ahead. A hallway ran alongside the stairs. To her left and right were entries to rooms. She turned to the left, and walked quietly through the opening.
This must be the living room, she thought. Her light swept over the bare wooden floor and walls. Except for a steam radiator, the room was empty. She saw a door at the far end.
If she settled here, she could get out quickly. But that wasn't her plan. Besides, this room had two ways in. She didn't like that. She needed a small room with only one door.
Like a bedroom.
She backed through the entry, felt a chill on her neck at the thought of someone sneaking up behind her, and whirled around. Nobody was there. She let out a shaky breath and shined her light on the stairway.
She didn't want to go up there. Old man Creekmoss's body, they said, had been found in a bedroom on the second floor.
That was years ago, Janice told herself. His killer is long gone.
She started up the stairs. The boards creaked and groaned. With each step, she grew more sure that someone was crouching in the hallway above her, just out of sight, waiting to leap out. Maybe a friend of Lyle. Maybe someone else. Or some thing.
Don't get crazy, she thought. Nobody is there.
Two steps from the top, she halted and listened. Her own heartbeat sounded very loud. Except for that, she heard only the rain on the roof. Then came a long, low moan that sent a shiver crawling up her back.
It's only the wind, she told herself.
Please, it's only the wind.
Holding her breath, she dashed up the last two stairs. She flashed her light down the narrow hall, spun around and shined it the other way. She saw no one.
Quickly, she stepped to the nearest door. Pushing it open, she leaned into the room. It was smaller than the one downstairs, and empty except for a radiator next to the wall. As thunder rumbled over the house, she sprang into the room. She shut the door and leaned against it, gasping.
From her purse, she took a wooden wedge with a nail in its thick end. Crouching, she shoved the narrow edge into the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. She pushed it in tight. Then she tried to open the door, but it didn't budge. The wedge worked as well as a lock.
She took a spool of wire from her purse, and twisted one end around the nail head. With a yank of the wire, the wedge slipped out from under the door. She thrust it back into place, then moved slowly backwards, paying out more wire until she reached the radiator.
There she spread her sleeping bag on the floor.
She found a small, shiny key inside her purse. The room's only window, with boards across the outside, was several yards away. She walked over to it and placed the key on the window sill.
Then she returned to the radiator and crawled into her sleeping bag. She took from her purse the handcuffs she had bought at the mall, fastened one bracelet around her right wrist, and snapped the other around a leg of the radiator.
I give you about ten minutes, Lyle had said.
He was wrong. She would be here until sunrise. Cuffed to the radiator,
Nobody can hear that, she told herself. Nobody has lived here for thirteen years. And there is no ghost.
She stepped into the house.
J anice pushed the creaking door shut slowly, wishing it would keep quiet. Then there was silence except for the soft sound of the rain. For a long time, she stood close to the door without moving. She hardly dared to breathe.
She felt as if she were not alone in the house.
It's only nerves, she thought.
But what if someone had come in after Lyle broke the lock off the door? Or what if Lyle had talked a friend into waiting inside to scare her? He might have done that.
Janice raised her flashlight. Its pale beam lit a stairway just ahead. A hallway ran alongside the stairs. To her left and right were entries to rooms. She turned to the left, and walked quietly through the opening.
This must be the living room, she thought. Her light swept over the bare wooden floor and walls. Except for a steam radiator, the room was empty. She saw a door at the far end.
If she settled here, she could get out quickly. But that wasn't her plan. Besides, this room had two ways in. She didn't like that. She needed a small room with only one door.
Like a bedroom.
She backed through the entry, felt a chill on her neck at the thought of someone sneaking up behind her, and whirled around. Nobody was there. She let out a shaky breath and shined her light on the stairway.
She didn't want to go up there. Old man Creekmoss's body, they said, had been found in a bedroom on the second floor.
That was years ago, Janice told herself. His killer is long gone.
She started up the stairs. The boards creaked and groaned. With each step, she grew more sure that someone was crouching in the hallway above her, just out of sight, waiting to leap out. Maybe a friend of Lyle. Maybe someone else. Or some thing.
Don't get crazy, she thought. Nobody is there.
Two steps from the top, she halted and listened. Her own heartbeat sounded very loud. Except for that, she heard only the rain on the roof. Then came a long, low moan that sent a shiver crawling up her back.
It's only the wind, she told herself.
Please, it's only the wind.
Holding her breath, she dashed up the last two stairs. She flashed her light down the narrow hall, spun around and shined it the other way. She saw no one.
Quickly, she stepped to the nearest door. Pushing it open, she leaned into the room. It was smaller than the one downstairs, and empty except for a radiator next to the wall. As thunder rumbled over the house, she sprang into the room. She shut the door and leaned against it, gasping.
From her purse, she took a wooden wedge with a nail in its thick end. Crouching, she shoved the narrow edge into the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. She pushed it in tight. Then she tried to open the door, but it didn't budge. The wedge worked as well as a lock.
She took a spool of wire from her purse, and twisted one end around the nail head. With a yank of the wire, the wedge slipped out from under the door. She thrust it back into place, then moved slowly backwards, paying out more wire until she reached the radiator.
There she spread her sleeping bag on the floor.
She found a small, shiny key inside her purse. The room's only window, with boards across the outside, was several yards away. She walked over to it and placed the key on the window sill.
Then she returned to the radiator and crawled into her sleeping bag. She took from her purse the handcuffs she had bought at the mall, fastened one bracelet around her right wrist, and snapped the other around a leg of the radiator.
I give you about ten minutes, Lyle had said.
He was wrong. She would be here until sunrise. Cuffed to the radiator,
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