Don't Look (Pike, Wisconsin #1) - Alexandra Ivy Page 0,31

the school forever.

She hadn’t considered the possibility that after her retirement she would spend each day alone in this tiny house she’d inherited from her mother. Stupid, of course. She’d never made friends with the other teachers, and the few acquaintances she knew from church were all too busy with their families to consider she might be lonely. Or more likely, they just didn’t care.

Why should they? She was nothing. To no one.

She turned off the kitchen lights and entered the living room. As she passed by the bay window, she caught sight of her reflection in the glass. Even blurred, her image looked like an old woman. She’d always been slender, but now she was closer to gaunt with a narrow, pinched face that had long ago been drained of any beauty.

She shivered, coming to a sudden halt. She’d been so wrapped in her bitter memories that she hadn’t noticed the sudden chill in the air. The snow had started to fall while she was making dinner and the wind was rattling through the trees, but that shouldn’t affect the temperature in the house.

Was there a window open?

No, that was impossible. She never opened the windows unless it was to yell at the neighbor’s dog that insisted on relieving itself on her mother’s prized rosebush.

So why was it so cold?

She was busy puzzling the question when a sharp pain pierced her back.

Madeline grunted, trying to reach around to find out what was biting her. It was hard to believe a bug could survive in the subzero temperature outside, but what else could it be?

It wasn’t until her knees collapsed and she fell flat on her face that she considered the possibility she might be in danger. And then it was too late.

The story of her miserable life.

* * *

Madeline woke in the darkness. Not just night, but a black void. As if every bit of light had been sucked out of the world.

The unnerving thought clawed through the fog in her brain. Had she gone blind? It seemed unlikely. She’d never had trouble with her eyes. But then again, her father had died of a stroke when he was in his early forties. Could a stroke cause blindness? Maybe.

But that didn’t explain why she was lying on what felt like a cement floor. Or why it was so cold.

Shoving herself into a seated position, Madeline squelched the urge to panic.

There had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation. There always was. She hadn’t taught a bunch of savages for forty years to be rattled because of a little darkness.

With grim determination, she sought to puzzle together where she was and what had happened.

Her last memory was standing in her living room. She’d finished washing the dishes and she was going to watch TV. A typical evening. Boring.

So what had happened?

There’d been a breeze, right? Had she gone to check the back door and seen something that led her outside?

Madeline licked her dry lips, eager to cling to her theory. Okay, she wasn’t outside now, but she had a detached garage. She might have gone there. No, wait. She had an old cellar just behind the house. It was possible that the door had blown open during one of the snowstorms. It wouldn’t be the first time. And if she’d gone to fix it she might have slipped and fallen down the stairs. It was pitch dark down there and always cold.

Yes. That made sense.

Relieved by the explanation, Madeline shakily rose to her feet. Her head throbbed as if she’d smacked it on the ground when she fell. And there was a queasy sensation in her stomach. But she couldn’t stay there. She was going to freeze to death.

Holding out her arms like the blind people she’d seen portrayed in the movies, she took a cautious step forward. Then another.

“You’re going to be fine,” she told herself in a loud, firm tone.

“No, Ms. Randall. You aren’t going to be fine. In fact, you’re never going to be fine again.”

Madeline froze. Where was that voice coming from? It popped and crackled as if it was being broadcast through one of those old-fashioned intercoms she used to have in her classroom.

Was it possible she’d somehow driven to the school in her sleep? There was an old basement where the boiler used to be.

“Who’s there?” she demanded.

“This is my playground, Ms. Randall,” the garbled voice warned. “And I make the rules here. Understand?”

Without warning Madeline felt a shock blast from her neck to the