Memory did. On the back porch Dee pulled a crowbar out of her duffel bag.
They'd come prepared. In the duffel bags there were also towels to lay over the frames of any windows they might have to break, and a hammer, and a screwdriver.
"It's a good thing the house is empty. If it weren't, we couldn't do this," Dee said, placing the crowbar judiciously.
"If it weren't, there wouldn't be any point in doing it," Jenny said. "Whoever moved in would have cleared out the basement. For that matter, we can't be sure somebody hasn't-"
"Wait!" Audrey yelled.
Everyone froze.
"Look at that." Audrey pointed to something beside the door. A black-and-silver sticker with curling edges. When Michael wiped the dirt off with his fingers, Jenny could make out lettering.
THIS PROPERTY PROTECTED BY MONONGAHELA VALLEY SECURITY. ARMED RESPONSE.
"A security alarm," Michael said. "Oh, terrific."
Audrey looked at Jenny. "Do you think it's still working?"
Dee was still holding the crowbar at the door. "We can try and see," she said, grinning.
"No, we can't," Jenny said. "That's just exactly what we can't do. If it is working, we won't be able to come back today, because they'll be all over the place."
"I think we're in fairly serious trouble here," Michael said.
Jenny shut her eyes.
Why hadn't she thought of this? Her grandfather had probably always had that alarm system-but it wasn't the kind of thing a kid would notice.
But I'm not a kid anymore. I should have thought now.
"There's got to be a way to get in," Dee was saying.
"Why?" Audrey's voice was snappish-because she felt bad, Jenny knew. Because she was scared.
"There doesn't always have to be a way just because you want one, Dee."
Think, Jenny. Think, think, think. You forgot the alarmis there anything else you've forgotten?
"If we're going to get philosophical-" Michael began.
"Mrs. Durash," said Jenny.
They all looked at her.
"She was my grandfather's housekeeper. Maybe she still takes care of the place. Maybe she has a key."
"Brilliant!" Dee said and finally removed the crowbar.
"We've got to find her telephone number-oh, God, if she still even lives here. There should be a phone at-at-oh, I guess the dairy bar. It's that way, I think. It's a long walk."
Michael looked cagey. "I'll stay here and guard the bags."
"You'll come with us, and like it," Audrey said. "We can hide the bags in the bushes."
"Yes, dear," Michael muttered. "Yes, dear, yes, dear..."
Petro's Dairy Bar, like everything they had passed on the way, had an air of gently going to seed. Jenny stepped into the blue-and-white metal booth outside and was relieved to find a phone book dangling from a chain. She balanced it on her knee and thumbed pages.