By the time she was done cleaning and moving around the last of Evelyn’s things, it was starting to get dark. Her schedule was all messed up now that she had quit working again. Taking care of the house, she had been forced to stay up all day. Exhausted, she was facing the impossible prospect of trying to stay awake all night.
Amber paced in the empty kitchen, bouncing her keys in her hand.
“Beach?” she whispered to herself.
After glancing through the window towards her car, she shook her head and dismissed the idea. She didn’t want to drive all that way in the dark, alone. That road was too monotonous and before long she would be too tired to keep her eyes open.
Likewise, she didn’t want to sit down and try to watch TV. That would put her to sleep as well. There was an all-night movie theater downtown. There were always creepy people hanging out there—insomniacs and people with weird social issues. It might be a decent place to pass the time, but Amber didn’t want to equate herself with those odd folks.
The house was clean enough, but the only thing she could think to do was to start fresh and clean the whole house once more. All she had to do was make it until dawn and then she could draw the curtains, sleep all day, and get back to her nocturnal schedule once more.
The supplies were under the sink. Amber collected those and rinsed out a rag that was still damp before she headed towards the laundry room for the bucket, broom, and mop.
Amber froze in the hall.
The door to Evelyn’s room was open a few inches again.
# # #
Slowly and silently, Amber crouched to put down the spray bottles, sponge, and rag. Her eyes didn’t leave Evelyn’s door as she reached up and turned the knob of the laundry room. When that door was open, she stole a glance to be sure nothing was waiting in there before she slid inside. Amber closed the door behind herself and pressed her back against it, waiting until she could catch her breath.
Her heart pounded in her ears and she tried to listen for any sounds.
Amber crouched again and reached behind the washing machine. The stake was gone. In her effort to clear out the house, Amber had put the stake and the rest of her monster-hunting gear in the back of her car. The kitchen door was closest. If she could retreat down the hall and go out through the back door, it would be a quick sprint through the dark to get to her car. If she went the other way, she could turn on the porch light and chase away the shadows between the house and driveway.
Amber weighed her options and chose the kitchen. Going that direction, she wouldn’t have to pass by Evelyn’s open door.
Her fingers closed around the knob, but her hand didn’t want to turn it.
There was another option—she had her phone in her pocket. What was the harm in calling the police and telling them she heard a sound? It would be a lie, but what else could she say?
“Hi, I was attacked by monsters a few times last year and now I think maybe one of them followed me back from Maine.”
If she said any of that, they would send the men in white suits with butterfly nets.
But she could lie and tell them she heard the sound of an intruder. People probably told little lies to get the police to their houses all the time.
Amber slid the phone from her pocket and began to dial.
Her thumb stopped before she hit the final button. She remembered placing the same call earlier that day when she was trying to get Shawn out of the house. Fear shifted into anger. Instead of creeping monsters, she imagined Shawn in the house, maybe trying to find some hidden treasure that Evelyn had left behind. He had glanced at Evelyn’s door. It was perfectly plausible that he had wanted to get in there earlier to search for something and Amber had scared him away. The more she thought of it, the more she convinced herself.
Just in case, she kept her phone in her left hand. With her right, she picked up the can of wasp spray from the shelf. It was more than half full. The label on the can said that it would shoot up to twenty-two feet. Amber used it once on the wasps that made a gray paper nest next to the clothes line. Twenty-two feet was an exaggeration, but it would definitely shoot far enough to make Shawn regret breaking in. She shook it up before she opened the door.
Stepping over the cleaning supplies, Amber held out the spray at arm’s length as she angled to get a good look at Evelyn’s door. The lights were off in there, but she thought she saw something moving in the dark.
“Come on out,” she said. “Police are on their way.”
There was no answer.
Advancing carefully, she pushed the door open further with her toe. The source of the movement turned out to be headlights shining through the window as a car rolled slowly down the street.
“Shawn?”
Amber inched forward and flipped the light switch with the back of her hand. Earlier that day, she had put brand new bulbs in the fixture. The lights were as bright as the sun through the clean globe. The bed was gone. The realtor had said it could stay, but Amber had gotten rid of it anyway. That was where Evelyn had died and it seemed wrong to keep it around. The only real furniture in the room was Evelyn’s chair and dresser.
Amber relaxed a little as she turned in a tight circle and realized that there was nobody in the bedroom. She was headed back towards the door—ready to check out the rest of the house—when she heard a thump from the
