on the threshold, assessing it. She was right. Someone had been in here. It was slightly off. My desk chair was pushed up tight to the desk. I never left it like that. My laptop, which was always open on the desk, was closed. I usually just pulled up the covers and left the bed semi-neat, but it was a mess, the cover mounded on top. The lid was off my clothes hamper. I looked inside. On top were the things that should have been on the bottom—a pair of red shorts I’d worn a week ago—as if someone had emptied it and refilled it in reverse order. I opened the closet. The clothes hanging up were all bunched at one end, like someone had pushed them back to look at the boxes and shoes on the closet floor.
I felt a niggle of worry, but mostly I was confused. I turned to face my mom. She was still in the doorway, her arms over her chest defensively, frowning.
“You didn’t do this? Push in my chair? Check out my clothes hamper?”
“Billy, I haven’t touched anything in this room today.”
“And no one else came by?”
She shook her head.
I swallowed. Was I being paranoid? But I couldn’t come up with any reasonable explanation. If one of my friends was in town and had stopped by, they wouldn’t have gotten past the front door lock. And even if my mom had forgotten to lock it, why would they get into my clothes hamper? Mess with my bed? My laptop? And if my mom had really done this stuff and forgotten, that was even more ominous.
“Nothing else in the house has changed?” I asked.
“Not that I saw.”
We walked through the house together. I didn’t see anything weird.
By now my mom was upset, clenching her hands in front of her, her face drawn. Shit. She’d been so happy when I got home. I didn’t want this to derail her progress.
I forced a shrug. “You know what? It was probably Jamie. Bet he was looking for that red shirt he loaned me one time.”
“Is he in town?” she asked doubtfully.
“Yeah,” I lied. Jamie was not in town, as far as I knew. But it was possible, I supposed.
“Well, he shouldn’t come in when no one was here, Billy! You tell him that.”
“Yeah. Maybe he was in a hurry. I’ll give him a call.”
She looked relieved. “Okay. I just want to finish up in the studio, then I’ll make dinner. Call Jamie!”
She went back to the garage. I texted Jamie. He was in Massachusetts. I tried two other friends, each a more remote possibility. It wasn’t either of them.
I went over my room more carefully. Nothing was missing that I could tell. Even my most expensive collectible, a knife from the actual set of Friday the 13th that my dad gave me on my eighteenth birthday, was untouched. My laptop booted up. I browsed my email and files. Everything looked the same.
It was one more mystery to add to the pile. I didn’t like it. I’d watched too many horror and noir movies not to find this suspicious. For some reason, my mind flashed on the security camera at the gate of Malfleur. Lately it always seemed to be watching me, that red eye staring as I came and went, often late at night. I’d wondered who might have access to the security footage.
But who would, other than Aaron? Emmanuel Clark? He’d called me a few times at the beginning, but he hadn’t bothered for a good month now, probably tired of hearing me wax on about rotting wood and dog poop.
No, I was being paranoid. And what could I do but hope there was a harmless explanation for this room thing?
Even if I couldn’t come up with a single one.
Chapter 18
Aaron
I was jogging along the road with my father. It was early morning, barely light. The lush, green Long Island neighborhood we lived in surrounded us, partially lost in fog. Even in my dream, I knew how special it was that my father was there. I reveled in the presence of his solid form pounding the pavement next to me. He was so strong, his breath a steady engine.
The old man can still keep up with you. He turned and gave me a smile.
Then I noticed that my shoelace was untied. I stopped and knelt down. I’ll catch up, I said to the fog. I tied my shoelace, my fingers feeling cold and awkward.
And then I heard