“The box needs to look official.” Janie stood at the doors of her pantry, perusing its contents. “We can’t use just any old cardboard box.”

“I still don’t understand the plan here, Janie,” I said. But she didn’t answer me. She only dug more frantically through the kitchenware and emerged triumphantly with a black milk crate.

“This is perfect.” I waited for an explanation that Janie didn’t offer. Instead, she moved a step stool over to the refrigerator and climbed up, reaching into the top cupboard above the freezer. Just as she brought out an enormous, warehouse package of chocolate candy, Ben breezed in through the back door.

“Put back the chocolate.”

“I need it.”

“I’m telling Mom.”

Janie sighed dramatically and stared balefully down at him. “Please. It’s for investigative purposes.”

Ben rolled his eyes at me. “How much are my parents paying you to mind my sister? Aren’t you supposed to help steer her toward normal?”

“I thought they were paying me to talk to you.” As soon as I spoke, I wanted to clap my hand over my own mouth. Why did every word I uttered to Ben sound like a dare?

Ben looked startled for a second and then he grinned. I went warm everywhere, thinking to myself, I surprised him. But then he glanced up at Janie and seemed momentarily abashed, as if he were the one caught raiding the sweets. He reached his hand up. At first, I thought he was raising his hand to speak, but then, wordlessly, Janie placed a pack of peanut butter cups in his hand. At least he was forgiven.

“Speaking of investigations,” he said, “consider me officially cozied to our boy Thatcher Langsom.”

“Seriously?” Janie asked.

“You move fast,” I muttered.

Ben raised one eyebrow at me and I felt it as a zap in my throat. He leaned against the counter. “Oh yeah. We’re basically bros now.”

“Does he know where you live?” Janie asked.

“Yep.”

“Well, don’t you think that’s going to work against us? I mean, the whole point was to trick him into confiding in you.”

“Only if there was something to confess. He’s a pretty chill dude—not someone who’s going to get worked up enough to write a letter in his own blood.”

“It was ink.”

“You know what I mean. Besides I don’t get the feeling there’s a deluge of new families moving into Glennon Heights in any given year. We’re sort of conspicuous.”

I remembered Thatcher at the coffee shop. “Does he seem sad? About having to move?”

“Kind of lost, I guess. Mostly stressed out about college—he talked about needing a scholarship and how he would have planned differently. You know—had he known that life would go to pieces. He did tell me that there were all these secret hiding places built into the house.” Janie and I exchanged a look. “But when I asked him to come over and show me, he said it’d be too bizarre to come over so soon.”

“Well, of course, Ben.” I heard the groan in Janie’s voice. “Way to work that empathy muscle.”

“That’s not the muscle I’m famous for.” Ben knocked against the granite top, as if he’d just remembered something. “Speaking of muscles, I saw you running this morning, Livvie.” All of a sudden, my chest felt like I’d just started my tenth mile. “You have really good form.”

My chest might have broken open and maybe a cartoon bird flew out, singing a cheesy musical theater tune. Or I just nodded dumbly and remembered to say, “Thank you.”

Ben pointed up at Janie. “Put that candy back.” He ambled out of the room and I stood there, trying to stop myself from staring at his retreating back, trying to avoid looking up to Janie’s disappointed face.

But she wouldn’t have it. She snorted derisively. “You must be joking.”

“What do we need chocolate for?”

“You have no idea.”

“Are we enticing Miss Abbot to speak with our stash of Snickers bars?”

“Listen, Olivia: You don’t need my brother and my brother definitely doesn’t need you.”

“Are you going to fill me in on the candy plan or not?” I managed to make eye contact with Janie’s knees.

“I’m asking you; I am pretty much begging you—”

“We were just talking about running.”

“He doesn’t care about running. I’m asking you this one thing.” She sighed and passed the box of candy bars down to me. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. I don’t want to see anyone get hurt.”

“Of course.” And then I said, because I never wanted to revisit the conversation again, “Besides, he’s your brother. That would be too weird.”

“Right. Way too weird. Thank you.” I held the step stool as Janie climbed down. Then she unboxed the packs of chocolate and lined them precisely into the milk crate like they were gold bars and she was executing a proper heist. She nodded and smiled in a small way, the kind of smile that forgave me, but only grudgingly.

“Let’s go chase a different kind of weirdness,” she said.

Minutes later, we stood on Miss Abbot’s well-tended front porch. Before my finger could connect with the doorbell, the front door swung open, and Miss Abbot stood there, studying us.

“Yes?” It sounded like she was scolding us, as if we’d interrupted some quiet reverie.

That’s when the Janie Donahue charm factory sprang into action. “Good morning, ma’am! How are you today? Would you like to support the Glennon Heights diving team by purchasing some delicious chocolate?” Janie gestured to the assortment of candy with a flourish.

But Miss Abbot pretty much ignored Janie and inspected me carefully. “Olivia Danvers, is that you? Since when are you diving?”

“Well …” I completely blanked. I made a terrible spy.

“Every morning, I see you charging around the neighborhood like you’re auditioning for a remake of Chariots of Fire.” She lowered her eyeglasses and peered at me even more closely. Miss Abbot’s eyes were chlorinated pools, sparkling in the sunlight. “Tell me, are you under the mistaken assumption that you are swimming laps instead?”

Janie laughed gamely. “Of course not! Olivia just volunteered to accompany me around the neighborhood. I’m still just getting acclimated on account of our just moving here, right across the street. We’re neighbors.” Janie made a big show of balancing the milk crate on one knee and reaching out to shake Miss Abbot’s hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Jane Louise Donahue.”

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Jane Louise.” Somewhat suddenly, Janie practically threw herself down on the bricks, fumbling her crate of chocolate as she tumbled.

“Oh dear.” Miss Abbot shook her head in dismay and her silver hair swayed at the temples. “Why don’t you girls come in and cool off with a glass of iced tea?”

“Thank you!” Janie exclaimed and mouthed See? to me once Miss Abbot turned her back. “It’s so kind of you. This August heat takes some getting used to.”

“They don’t have August where you’re from?”

Janie laughed nervously. “It’s just really humid here.”

Miss Abbot led us through her front parlor and into her sitting room. I suppose it was technically a living room, but fancier, with its velvet furniture and embroidered pillows. It seemed like a room that would insist on a more formal name. “Please have a seat, girls.”

I moved to sit down, but Janie took a detour to an oak desk in the corner as soon as Miss Abbot was out of the room. She kept one eye on the kitchen while thumbing through the small piles of papers. I realized she was checking for white stationery.

“What a lovely home, Miss Abbot,” I croaked out while Janie opened drawers and shook her head at me: Nothing. We heard soft footsteps approach from the kitchen and rushed to take our places on the velvet sofa.

It was impossible to slouch in Miss Abbot’s home. I looked across at Janie and she looked as stiff and on display as I felt. When Miss Abbot returned with a tray of glasses and graham crackers, we sat up even straighter. The ice clinked as she set down the tray. An orange cat, one I’d thought might be stuffed, leapt off the far end of the sofa in response.

“Poor Horatio,” Miss Abbot murmured. “We’ve disturbed your beauty sleep.”

“He’s a handsome cat,” Janie offered. “Is he your only one?”

Miss Abbot sipped her iced tea. “Well, I keep the other forty in the freezer.”

My eyes snapped open and met Janie’s widened gaze. “Miss Abbot?”

“Oh, I’m teasing, dear. Horatio’s my one familiar. But that’s what society has come to expect from a woman my age, isn’t it? Too many cats. Maybe not enough sense.”

“Oh no, you probably know every little thing that goes on in this neighborhood.” I knew where Janie was headed, but she spoke to Miss Abbot like she was a child we might babysit. When she patted her hand and said, “I bet you don’t miss a beat,” I cringed despite every effort to keep my face still.

“Of course I don’t, dear,” Miss Abbot answered. The iced tea sweat in its glass but suddenly the room felt chilly. “So you two are fund-raising this morning?”

“Yes. We’re selling chocolate door-to-door.”

“You should be careful. I question the wisdom of sending young girls to doorsteps asking for money. After all, not everyone is harmless.” There was the slightest edge running under Miss Abbot’s words. I swallowed and told myself that I was officially paranoid. This was sweet Miss Abbot, after all—not some neighborhood menace making sly threats.

Janie sat back in her seat then and gazed directly at her. My heart sank. Even after only a week, I knew that look. It was the staring-down-the-high-dive look. We wouldn’t be collecting a few dollars and making a quick exit anytime soon. Miss Abbot reached over and broke off a piece of graham cracker into her hand. She chewed slowly, savoring the moment with a tiny smile on her lips. She seemed pleased to have scored a formidable opponent.

Janie went on. “Glennon Heights seems so picturesque, though. It’s hard to imagine anything happening here.”

“Well, you should be careful about painting us with such broad strokes, Jane Louise. After all, one man killed his entire family not too far from where we sit.”

I couldn’t believe I was hearing this out loud. Miss Abbot was speaking about the Unspeakable. Hardly anyone in Glennon Heights ever mentioned the VonHolt murders. On significant anniversary years, news magazines made the rounds. Occasionally, some tabloid took a picture that we’d later see splashed across Dateline or 48 Hours. I’d first learned about the case from one of those programs.

Janie listened closely as Miss Abbot described the initial discovery of the bodies and the manhunt that followed. I’d forgotten that she’d taught at the high school back then. Two of the VonHolt children had been in her classes, she told us. “The oldest, the daughter, had a real vibrancy to her. A bit too clever for her own good. She was a B-minus student who considered herself a solid A student.” Miss Abbot crossed her feet at the ankles and bit down on another cracker. “Not that she deserved to be shot.”

“Of course not,” Janie said. “Ma’am, this might sound crazy, but is there any link between my house and the VonHolts? Did the families know each other?”

“The Langsom house? Oh, I don’t think so. Not intimately. It’s a small town, after all. We all feel like we know each other, but that’s what the VonHolt case taught us. That maybe we don’t really know our neighbors at all.”

“But you knew the Langsoms?”

“Well, of course. Everyone knows the Langsoms.” Miss Abbot looked over to me. “At one time, the Danvers and the Langsoms were quite close.”

Janie swiveled to me.

“No, I’m sorry—that’s actually not true.” I laughed, embarrassed at having to correct Miss Abbot. “My mom and Mrs. Langsom knew each other back in high school. But by the time my parents moved into the neighborhood, they’d grown apart.”

Miss Abbot sipped from her glass. “Oh no, dear. I meant your father.” She shrugged and returned to bemoaning the downfall of the Langsom name. “In any case, it was a terrible thing, seeing an established family like that packing up and moving in the night like some band of thieves. After all they’ve done for this town, they deserved better. You know, they used to host tours.” Miss Abbot nodded to herself, remembering. “Dr. Langsom’s great-grandfather—he was before even my time—amassed some of his fortune bootlegging through the 1920s. He built the house with hidden cellars and passages to store and move his product. Apparently, he shipped to the city on canoes, right up the Belvidere River. Although perhaps that bit of history is a tad too resonant, with all the gossip about Dr. Langsom’s … indulgences.” Miss Abbot clucked her tongue. “But when the doctor was a boy, the family hosted haunted houses every Halloween. I think they took a certain amount of pride in their renegade ancestry.”

Across the room, the orange cat stretched on a sill. Through the window, I could see the grand facade of 16 Olcott Place. We all sat silently for a moment, and I pictured the old-fashioned ghosts and vampires floating through the yard, parading up the porch steps with pillowcases of candy slung over their shoulders.

“Well,” Miss Abbot spoke suddenly, “I’ll take one pack of peanut M&M’s, please.” She stood up and reached for the leather coin purse that rested on top of the TV stand.

It took a moment for Janie to jump to attention. “Right! Of course. Thank you so much for supporting our team.” She dug through the candy, handing over a yellow packet. Miss Abbot took it and gazed steadily at her, still waiting.

“How much, dear?”

“Yes.” Janie nodded. “I mean, that will be one dollar.”

Miss Abbot unfolded a bill from her purse. “Those are slim profit margins. You divers should have the economics club advise you. Especially if they’re having you girls traipse around town, knocking on doors”—she paused and stared meaningfully at both of us—“randomly?”

She knew. Of course she knew. She knew everything.

Just when I thought she would simply take the dollar and slink away, Janie asked, “Ma’am, you’re pretty much an expert on Glennon Heights, right?”

“I’ve learned to be cautious about calling myself an expert in anything … but I’ve lived here long enough to know the scenery pretty well.” Miss Abbot moved to the door and reached for the knob. Janie’s eyes darted to mine. Last chance, I tried to tell her. You might as well ask.

Janie nodded. “Miss Abbot, have you ever noticed anyone taking an unusual interest in my home? I know it’s a landmark and all, but maybe someone has seemed preoccupied in a way that was creepy? You know, like inappropriate? Maybe mentally unsound?”

“Oh dear.” Miss Abbot grimaced. “You’re talking about the Sentry, aren’t you?”

I felt myself go absolutely still. My neck prickled like when you’re playing hide-and-seek—that moment right before you’re found. Miss Abbot stood, still blocking the front door. Janie jutted her chin out, as if to say, We can take her. And I reminded myself that it was crazy to consider physically overpowering a seventy-year-old woman in her own home. Besides I wasn’t sure if we could take her. We’d underestimated Miss Abbot all along.

She nodded kindly at us. “You must have received a letter.” She reached for the door. At first I had a nightmarish vision of Miss Abbot flicking the bolt and locking us forever in her home: two dolls enclosed in glass domes. But that was silly; that was nuts. That was Janie’s influence, along with this week of increasingly exposed secrets. Miss Abbot only held open the screen and ushered us out.

Janie had halted in her tracks. I wrenched her forward. Nuts or not, I was done with feeling like a mouse struggling under Horatio’s paw. We needed to scamper off. Still caught, Janie stared at Miss Abbot in amazement. “You know about the letter?”

“Well, yes, dear.” Miss Abbot smiled. Not menacingly, really. More like she’d read our every thought and had been disappointed. The screen door slammed and our sweet, elderly neighbor retreated into the shadows of her darkened hallway. We could barely see her as she spoke. “And you mean letters. The Langsoms received several.”