Hurrying back up the steps, I continued to the second floor where the bedrooms were. When I stepped into the last one with a window seat that overlooked the woods, goosebumps prickled my arms—as if my body was trying to tell me something. Yeah, that it was freaking cold up here. I already missed southern weather.
“Found my room, Aunt Tess!” I called, turning from the window to pull the white sheets off the furniture. Cool armoire. It had that vintage, shabby chic thing going on. When my words were met with silence, I headed downstairs again in search of my aunt.
She was pacing the driveway beside my old silver Honda, her bright auburn hair catching the moonlight. “I didn’t know what else to do,” I heard her say over the phone, so I retreated inside again. Respect for privacy was rule number one in our house. But it wasn’t until a couple of years ago that I’d demanded the rule go both ways.
I decided to busy myself with removing sheets, making sure no masked killers were hiding underneath them. I’d reached the dining room when something beyond the sliding doors moved. I whipped my gaze toward the backyard, heart jolting at the thought of someone watching me.
But it was only a deer.
Two of them actually, a doe and fawn, by the looks of it. The mother was too busy grazing on the overgrown lawn to notice me, so I oh-so-carefully unlocked the slider and nudged it open. The hinges soundlessly rolled back—which was unexpected, considering the state of this place—and I was able to slip outside undetected.
Turning off the flashlight, I raised my phone to snap a photo. The quality would be grainy, but I didn’t often get to see wildlife this close. Our last several moves had been to small apartments in the suburbs.
As I tapped the button, the night lit up. Crap! I’d left the flash on. Startled, the mama and baby deer took off, leaping into the woods.
“Shoot.” I clicked on my photos, hoping I at least got the shot. I smiled when two deer greeted me. Too bad their eyes were glowing from the flash, but . . .
Wait.
There were three sets of eyes. One pair was farther back in the woods. But it wasn’t yellow like the others. More like a bright ruby . . .
Red.
A warning tickled my senses, followed by a memory. I quickly shoved the memory aside. There was a perfectly good explanation for this. Probably some trick of the light. I double-tapped the screen and squinted at the dark shape. Then squinted harder, willing the shape to transform into a deer. But the more I stared, the clearer it became.
There was a human in the woods.
A cold awareness skated across my skin, one I’d felt not too long ago. I fumbled to press the flashlight icon again and dropped my phone. I froze, suddenly realizing how isolated this place was. If there were houses nearby, I couldn’t see them. Which meant that if I screamed . . .
Shoot. Shoot!
I snatched up my phone without taking my eyes off the woods. The memory came back to taunt me again, and I couldn’t shake it this time. Freaking out, I whirled and dove headfirst into the house. Air whooshed from my lungs as I crashed to the floor, but I was up again in a flash, slamming the slider shut with a thwack.
“Kenna?” Aunt Tess’s feet pounded the wood floor as she barreled into the house. “What’s wrong? What happened?” Her wild gaze searched every nook and cranny as she approached.
Needing a moment to compose myself, I turned and carefully locked the door. If I told her what I saw—or what I thought I saw—we’d be halfway across the country by morning. And despite the creep factor of this house, something about it felt . . . right. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to leave this place yet.
So I turned and adopted an embarrassed expression before saying, “Nothing happened. I just wanted to explore outside and the door jammed.”
She fixed me with one her deep, probing stares to see if I’d break, but I wouldn’t. Not this time. Eventually, she sighed and let me off the hook. “Do me a favor and stay out of those woods, okay?”
“What?” I glanced out the window, pretending to notice them for the first time. “Why, are there bears in there or something?”
“Or something. Just promise me, McKenna. I’m trying to keep you safe here.”
Feelings of resentment sprang up at that thinly-veiled guilt trip, as if the moves were my fault. I reached down and pinched my thigh hard to keep from saying anything I’d later regret. “Fine,” I quickly muttered and looked away.
We stood in tense silence for a few moments, long enough for me to feel guilty. Argh! She had a knack for doing that to me. She released another sigh, saying, “Come on. There’s no electricity or hot water, so we’re gonna stay at a hotel for tonight. Hopefully everything will look brighter in the morning.”
“Okay,” I agreed, because there was no way I could fall asleep tonight in this house. Not without curtains on every single window.
Thankfully, after a visit from the local plumber and electrician, the house was live-in ready two days later—except we still didn’t have curtains. Our storage container hadn’t arrived yet, but we’d mastered the art of living out of suitcases for extended periods.
The one thing I hadn’t quite mastered was the first day at a new school. Rosewood High would be my third school this year, but I’d purposefully lost count of how many I’d actually attended over the years. It was too depressing to think about.
I turned
