52. At Night

The driveway is nearly hidden beneath overgrown branches that create a mock doorway we drive through. It curves upward through woods until it stops just below a hill of grass and an unremarkable, faded-yellow one-story house. It looks like an orphan left in the woods, its three windows gazing dully at me. A set of stairs juts out beneath the front door.

“Here’s the castle,” Ray says in a way that I can’t tell is mocking or simply honest.

I climb out. “Thanks, man.”

“She know you’re coming?”

I shake my head and shut the car door.

Ray is still talking through the open window. “You met her step-uncle?”

“Yeah.”

“Just—be careful with that. He’s a bit—well, you saw him.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Before I have time to reconsider, he pulls away.

I feel like I’m being watched. Either from the windows or from the woods.

I feel a chill. My thin denim jacket isn’t a lot of warmth. I rub my arms as I walk toward the house.

It doesn’t look old and abandoned—it simply looks empty. There are no signs of life. I don’t see the Jeep or any other vehicle. No garden tools or grill or garbage can. There’s not even a welcome mat by the front door.

And no doorbell to ring.

I stand there for a moment, then knock.

I wait. Knock again, then wait. Try a third time.

Then I walk back down the wooden steps and wait.

As the sun fades away, a bit too quickly for my liking, I sit on those steps and shiver. I probably should get up and move around, but then I don’t want to move.

I still feel watched.

I feel like someone’s in the woods.

Someone … or some thing.

My mind is working overtime.

It’s closing in on eight. I’ve been here for several hours, just waiting. Killing time.

Doing absolutely nothing.

Occasionally I’ve gotten up and walked around the house, finding nothing.

What if Ray got it wrong?

What if she moved?

Or what if Ray is playing a practical joke?

As the darkness and cold settle in, I know I need to get going.

Maybe Jocelyn’s on a trip and just didn’t tell me about it.

Maybe she doesn’t live here.

Maybe there was a family emergency.

I know that if she did suddenly show up, with or without her aunt and step-uncle, I’d look pretty creepy sitting on the steps of the house she never invited me to.

Nice surprise that’d be.

I decide to walk back to town.

If I can find it, that is.

Halfway down the driveway, I see beams of light turning from the road below.

I dash off to one side of the driveway, heading toward some big trees that offer cover.

For a while I just lie with my back against the base of the tree, my body out of view. Then, when the lights move on up to the house, I sneak a peek.

I see the red glow of taillights from Jocelyn’s Jeep.

The lights stay on as a figure emerges and cuts through them, heading to the front door.

The long dark hair gives her away.

Jocelyn walks slowly and carefully to the door and opens it.

Then the headlights go out.

Someone gets out of the driver’s side. A tall figure.

Is that her aunt or step-uncle?

The way the person walks makes me think of the guy I saw on the street. I can still see him, can still remember his smell.

The figure walks into the house and closes the door.

I wait to see if anyone else emerges from the car.

If that’s her step-uncle, then where’s her aunt?

Maybe she’s inside.

But I knocked several times; wouldn’t she have let me in?

I stand behind the tree, staring at the shadowy structure in the trees. A panic fills me, and I don’t know why. It’s the same sort of feeling that I got when I was sitting in that church. A falling sensation, rising from my gut and bubbling throughout.

I want to run to the door and knock on it and let her know I’m there.

But it’s nighttime. She’ll wonder what I’m doing out here.

If this doesn’t fit a stalker profile, I don’t know what does.

I’m worried about her.

I’m worried about her being alone with her step-uncle.

I stay by that tree for what seems to be hours.