was no trace of turmoil, no sense of danger here. Even grisly news of vanished women, of a finger found in the park, couldn’t shake the pervasive warmth.
I suddenly felt very alone. I went to Molly and stood beside her at the table. A dish towel was tucked into her sweatshirt for protection, but she concentrated, trying not to drip. I smoothed her hair, and she squirmed.
“Stop, Mom. You’ll make me spill.”
“Sorry.”
I took my hand away.
“I won’t be late,” I said. “Have fun. I love you, Mollybear.” “Have fun, too. I love you, too.” Her words were distracted, automatic.
“Remember, she can spend the night, if you want.” Susan was back, handing me a bottle of shampoo.
“I can? Can I sleep over, Mom?” Molly asked, carelessly dripping butter all over the counter. Emily chimed in, begging.
“Please? Please?” They were a duet, a chorus of begging. “Can we have a sleepover?”
Susan’s skin glowed, her house gleamed clean, her children were radiant, and her husband was around somewhere, upstairs. Her home was warm and alive. “It’s fine with us,” she said.
I looked at my daughter. She was happy here, blending in, entirely at home. “Not tonight,” I said. “Another time.”
“Why? Why not tonight? Please?”
They continued pleading as I buttoned my coat, and I left quickly, selfishly, before I could be swayed.
FIFTEEN
OUTSIDE, THE WEATHER HAD CHANGED FOR THE WORSE. THE temperature had dropped suddenly, refreezing the latest melt and the new rain, creating a world sheathed in glass. Trees along Pine Street sparkled like crystal under a darkening sky; branches glistened, heavy and stiff. Sidewalks and steps—even the stone bears in Three Bears Park—were treacherously glazed. The stretch of blocks between my house and Susan’s seemed endless as I stepped carefully, trying not to slip; my face stung, assailed by bits of jagged ice. Raw wind sliced through my jacket, and each breath pulled precious heat out of my body. The streets were empty; I walked home on feet that had lost all feeling, darkness grabbing at my back, a chain of icy air circling my throat.
When I reached my house, I turned away from the wind, fumbling to take my keys out of my pocket with numbed gloved hands. Frustrated, pulling off a glove to try again, I saw something move in the backseat of an old, ice-coated Pontiac parked at the curb. Gradually, I realized that the something was a hand, waving to me. I took another look. Somebody was definitely in there. Waving. Or—tapping?
All the childhood warnings about strangers in cars flooded my mind. I hurried to put my key in the lock, but someone called my name. “Miss Zoe!”
Charlie peeked through the now open Pontiac window. His voice was hoarse and guttural. My teeth were chattering, but I descended the steps, careful not to slip.
“No!” Charlie whispered. “Don’t come any closer! You’ll be seen!”
I continued toward the car, squinting in the sleet, leaning on the rear of Jake’s frozen pickup truck so I wouldn’t slip. Inside the Pontiac, I saw rumpled blankets and a pillow. A box of Ritz crackers. Cans of Dr. Pepper, Budweiser. Was Charlie living in this old car?
“What are you doing out here?” I asked.
“I had to get out of the house, miss.”
“You’ll freeze, Charlie. What happened? Do you need rent money?”
“Oh no. I’m the handyman, miss. I work for the owner; I got no rent. I just had to get out of there. Things are much worse.” He crouched back into the seat and whispered through the window. “The evil’s growing, gaining power. Now, see, my dreams have been taken over. My thoughts are being monitored. I’m under constant surveillance, see. Because I know what’s going on.”
He was absolutely crazy. And I was quaking with the cold. I wanted to run inside, to sip hot peppermint tea and take a bath in jasmine-scented bubbles. I had to hurry and get ready for dinner with Detective Stiles. But how could I leave poor Charlie out in the car?
“Charlie. You can’t stay out in this weather. Go inside. Nobody’s going to bother you.”
“Miss, I told you I’d watch over you. There’s danger coming your way. Soon, any day now. I’m warning you, there will be terrible consequences. We may be being watched, even now.”
I was shivering so much that I had trouble hearing. My face was raw and my toes were frozen. Charlie turned away, staring into the street. His face glowed red, then green, reflecting the lights of Phillip Woods’s blinking Santa.
“... I know what’s really