It took Tom what seemed like three years to crutch downstairs and out to the car for his doctor’s appointment. I tried to get him to slide down the banister. Both practical and fun, I argued. Mom didn’t think it was such a great idea.
“We don’t need another broken leg, Charlie,” she said. Fair enough.
Turns out, we didn’t need to hurry after all.
“Dr. Washington is running at least forty-five minutes late,” said the dead-eyed clerk at the desk. No “sorry.” No explanation. She may as well have added, So just sit down and suck it up.
“Okaaaaay,” Mom said with a sigh. “So we could just wait here, or we could go get burgers now, instead of after the appointment. Anybody hungry?”
Tom and I were pretty much always hungry. And let’s be honest—I was only along for the burgers anyway. Sitting in the doctor’s office reading ancient Sports Illustrated magazines was not my idea of fun.
So we went and grabbed an early dinner. The burgers were great, and not only because Tom and I had been living on cereal and frozen pizza. Mom told us stories from the operating room. She was funniest when she was mimicking the doctors. It was nice to see her relaxed and happy.
And the bonus: now she wouldn’t have the extra worry that her brother was a criminal. Because now I knew he wasn’t. So all good.
We went back to the doctor’s office and settled down to wait.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, “do I have to stay or is it okay if I just walk home? It’ll only take me about half an hour. I wouldn’t mind getting some exercise.” There was no reason for me to be there. Now that the burgers were eaten.
“Sure,” she said. “Got your phone? Text me when you get home. Dave’s probably going to be out, just so you know.”
I knew. Tonight was when he was planning to go to the car guys’ house to snoop around for me. I’d made him promise to ask some questions. Have a peek in the garage, if he could manage it. He had said he’d try.
But I was definitely feeling a bit nervous about Uncle Dave doing any kind of detective work. He just seemed too obvious, somehow. Too honest. I still couldn’t believe he’d never eaten a grocery-store grape.
“Charlie, don’t do anything stupid, okay?” Tom whispered as I passed by. I’d said exactly the same thing to Gary. That was good advice. For Gary. This was insulting.
“I won’t, I won’t.” I’d filled Tom in on everything. He knew we were now focusing on the car guys and their stuffed garage.
It was getting dark as I walked home. Even though I told myself to think about other things, my thoughts kept turning to the break-ins. To the thieves. I didn’t have a whole lot else going on in my life, to be honest.
I passed by the car guys’ house. I could see that the lights were on in the basement. And I could hear the heavy beat of the drums. Band practice was on. Uncle Dave was in the house.
Don’t do anything stupid, okay, Uncle Dave?
I kept walking until I reached our house.
If I were a thief, I thought as I approached our front door, how would I break into this house? Never through the front door. There was no cover at all. It was a straight walk up from the street, and there was a very bright porch light. No bushes, nowhere to hide. No, if I were a thief, I wouldn’t chance being seen from the street. I’d head around back.
So I headed around back. This was more like it. It was really quite dark at the side of the house. But problem time: there was only way in, and it was the dining room window. It was high off the ground. Like, small-ladder high. And I doubted the thieves were carting around ladders, big or small. I thought they would look for an easier way in.
I moved on. I went through the gate to the backyard. Mom had the porch light on here too. But because of the trees, the back door was way more private. It was a definite possibility. I pictured a tall shadow lurking at that door, picking the lock, slipping inside…
I stumbled to the door and reached for the doorknob, suddenly afraid. Locked. Thank goodness. I felt weak with relief. My imagination was way too active.
Okay, Charlie, settle down. House is all locked up. Stop freaking yourself out. You are so pathetic…
I took out my key and let myself in, slipping in as silently as the thief I imagined. I locked the door quickly behind me. Safe. When did I get so jumpy? My nerves felt stretched to the limit. I took a couple of deep breaths and bent to untie my shoes.
Thud.
What was that? I froze. A dull thud. Upstairs.
I straightened up very slowly. I strained my ears to hear.
A dull thud. I swore I had heard a dull thud. Like something falling on the carpet. Did I actually hear that, or did I imagine it? I stood still, trying to hear over the loud pounding of my heart.
Nothing. I listened again. Nope, nothing.
I shook my head at myself. Wow, I was so tense.
I relaxed my shoulders (which had clenched up somewhere near my ears). Did a little back stretch. I was just reaching for the light when I heard the floorboard outside our bedroom creak. I snapped to attention. It felt like my heart actually stopped or missed a beat or something. I was that scared.
There was no explaining that sound away. I knew that one. And I had heard it as clear as day.
It’s a family joke, that floorboard. Tom and I had named it Creaky McCreaker (we were, like, four and seven at the time). It was just put in wrong or something. Uncle Dave had tried to fix it a while back, and now it creaked even worse. You had to step over it if you wanted to avoid the creak.
Everyone knew that. Everyone who lived in this house.
So the person upstairs was somebody who didn’t know you had to step over Creaky McCreaker. Somebody who didn’t even know it was called Creaky McCreaker. Somebody who didn’t live in this house.
A stranger.
A thief.
A thief-stranger was upstairs in our house.