straightened up the living room and in the afternoon she worked in the warm, sunny kitchen rearranging shelves. Occasionally, memories of last Saturday night came to mind. Hard to believe four days had passed already. Certain things Robert had said and done remained so vivid.
Working on the shelf with all the spices, she sneezed when she held up the paprika, and climbed down from the stool to get some Kleenex from the counter.
Blowing her nose, she looked out over the startling brilliance of white snow. The sun wasn't hot enough to melt it; it just gave it an almost blinding surface.
Watching the way the wind whipped the snowflakes around in a dazzling, diamond-like display, she saw on the edge of her vision something that seemed wrong.
Leaving from the front door of their home, bundled up so heavily that Diane could not see their faces, were Mindy and Jeff McCay.
Expecting them to walk around to the side to get their second car, a blue Volvo station wagon, she was surprised when they kept going down the walk and then into the street and then straight across the snowy field Jeff had crossed the other night to reach the brook.
Where could they be going? And both of them at the same time? And why didn't they take the car?
Only then did Diane realize the opportunity she had. Robert had asked her to tell him if Mindy and Jeff ever left the house together, leaving Jenny alone.
Dashing to the yellow wall phone, Diane dialed the number of the police department, a number she knew by heart already.
'May I speak with the Chief, please?'
'One moment.'
As she waited, she felt like a child, so excited she could scarcely stop herself from jumping up and down. She stood on the lowest rung of the stool to see if she could catch sight of Mindy and Jeff. Just now, their heads were disappearing on the other side of the hill, dark shapes against the brilliant white day.
'Hello,' a male voice said.
'Hello?'
'You're holding for the Chief?'
'Yes.'
'Afraid he's tied up right now. There was a fire on the edge of the business district. Pretty bad one. Damage is probably going to run at least half a million.'
'But isn't the fire department-'
He'd anticipated her objection. 'Right now, the fire department needs all the official help it can get, including the Chief. Sorry. Is there something I can help you with?'
Diane thought about it but decided no. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to let one of Robert's co-workers know that he was at least contemplating 'visiting' a place without a search warrant.
'No, thanks. I appreciate your time, though.'
After hanging up and stepping down to the floor, Diane leaned against the counter for long moments in the sunshine. Her heart still pounding at the prospect of possibly seeing Jenny, she knew she would have to make a decision quickly.
What if they came back while she was in there? What if she found that Jenny had been abused in some horrible way that Diane could never forget?
Shaking her head at herself, knowing that she owed her young friend all the help she could give, Diane ran to the hall closet, took down her coat, tugged on her snow boots, and went out the back door.
Outside, the sun was even more blinding. It was one of those freezing days when you could scarcely breathe.
She paused a moment as she struggled through the knee-deep snow. She looked up at the McCay house. While it was one of the more expensive homes in Stone-ridge, there was still something sinister about it. She'd never been able to figure out what. In the dazzling sun-light and beautiful snow, it should have looked like an ordinary, friendly house. But there was a shut-away aspect to it, the windows too dark with drawn curtains, as if it were a place in which sick people were kept.
Shuddering, knowing she was being silly, Diane went the rest of the way to the McCays' front door, determined to go in there, find out Jenny's condition, and take whatever action was appropriate.
Reaching the front steps, she heard the yipping of the tiny golden toy poodle, try the bell first. Terry went crazy, even managing to sound fierce despite his diminutive size.
She rang the bell one more time. Its chimes sounded too full, almost corny on the clear afternoon.
Anxious again, her chest feeling tight, she put her right hand down to the knob and twisted gently. The door was open. She pushed it inward a bit farther. Terry flew at her like a heat-seeking missile.
Bending down to grab him, his pink tongue found her face and began inflicting big wet slurps.
Despite herself, she giggled. Terry's breath might be bad, but his tongue tickled.
Holding him to her side, she crossed over the threshold and took two steps inside the McCay's house.
Her first impression was that the place was badly in need of a straightening-up and dusting. Magazines, newspapers, pizza boxes, and beer cans were strewn everywhere, and the dust was thick enough to write your name in clearly. In all, the downstairs, with a chair overturned here and a shirt thrown over the couch there, resembled the world's most expensive dormitory for boys. A mess, but, in some strange way, a friendly mess.
The biggest mystery was how Mindy could live there. Mindy's house had always been her pride. Generally, she'd invited Diane over once or twice a month to view whatever gadget Jeff had brought home that time. The house was always immaculate, due, no doubt, to the full crew of cleaning women Mindy had in once a week.
What had happened to the cleaning women? Had they gone on strike? Had they been deported for being illegal aliens?
'Jenny.'
In the silence, Diane's voice sounded strained, unnatural.
'Jenny.'
No hint of a response came as Diane started through the house. On the dining room table were piled stacks of paper plates smeared with the residue of countless dinners. Ants crawled on the plates. Diane shuddered. What was going on there?
In the kitchen, she found two large sinks crammed with dirty dishes. The counters were packed with the empty tins of canned vegetables.
It was the floor, however, that held what appeared to be the worst secret so far.
A circle in crayon had been drawn near the refrigerator. In the center of the circle were large splotches of blood, and stuck to some of the splotches were dirty white feathers and shriveled-up animal innards that resembled feces. The handsome tile floor had suffered deep gouges. Only after Diane bent to look closer did she understand what had happened there. Blood, feathers, gouges-one or more animals, most likely chickens, had been slaughtered on the floor.
Standing up straight, feeling her chest contract again, Diane decided to get out of the house. Certainly what she could describe there would be enough for Robert to get a search warrant.
As she rushed back through the ground floor, she did not hear clearly the sound from upstairs. Only when she reached the front door, out of breath and frightened, did she glance upstairs toward where the noise appeared to be coming from. It was laughter. There was no other way to describe it. But no pleasant laughter. No, this was the essence of something dirty, salacious, vile; laughter that reflected unwholesome pleasures.
Her gaze followed the grand staircase that reached up past the landing window, brilliant with flat blue sky. The frost rimming the window reminded her that everything was most likely all right, that there might be some kind of reasonable explanation for the condition of the house, even for the blood in the circle in the kitchen. Momentarily, the house became knowable again as the laughter died. She had been there so many times and enjoyed herself. She had just let her fears get the best of her and-'Aunt Diane.'
Her name being spoken was even clearer than the laughter had been.
Her eyes swept the staircase for sight of Jenny, for it had been Jenny's voice just then. But the staircase was empty.
'Aunt Diane.'
Her hand falling away from the door, Diane took a few tentative steps back toward the center of the house.
