ELEVEN

1

When Coy arrived at the bank Wednesday morning, Ben Shanley was waiting for him, and before Coy could even get to his desk and put down his briefcase, the manager was calling him over in the overly hearty voice he used when dealing with hesitant customers. This couldn’t be good, and for a brief moment Coy thought he was going to be fired. But then Shanley closed the office door behind them and sat down heavily in the chair behind his desk. There was a moment of silence. “We’re in big trouble,” the manager said finally. “And I need your help.”

Coy was not invited to sit down, so he remained standing awkwardly. “O…kay,” he said hesitantly, not sure where this was headed.

“It’s that new bank. First People’s. They’re not only scooping up B of A’s old customers, but they’re stealing some of ours as well. And somehow they’re signing up people who’ve never had bank accounts before. That untapped base is our Holy Grail, and banks and credit unions’ve all been trying to stimulate that segment for years to no avail. But these guys’ve done it.”

He wasn’t sure what this had to do with him or how he could help, but he nodded his understanding and agreement.

“We’re hurting,” Shanley said simply. “In fact, we’re not just hurting, we’re going down. There’ve been some…inauspicious ventures, some poor investments over the past few years, and we find ourselves a trifle over extended.” He glanced quickly toward the closed door. “If there were ever to be a run on the bank…” He shook his head. “The big banks, the national banks, the multi-national banks, the ones with politicians in their pockets, if they were in our shoes, they’d get a bailout because they’re too big to fail, and their collapse would jolt the entire economy. Unfortunately, we’re not too big to fail. There’s not a politician alive who would lift a pinky finger to save us. Which means we’re on our own here. And that’s why I need you to meet with a representative of First People’s.”

“Me?”

“Yes. You.”

Coy was confused. “You’re the manager. Shouldn’t you or someone from the board—”

“We wouldn’t come off well,” Shanley said curtly. “Not for something like this. We’d take the blame for the bad decisions; we’d take the heat. They’d want to punish us. What we need is someone encouraging, someone who can put a positive spin on our situation, someone not involved in any decision-making, someone who can’t be blamed for anything we might have done or might not have done. A go-between. We need a go-between.”

“But…what would I say? I wouldn’t even know where to start or—”

The manager waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll tell you what to say.”

Coy reminded him of Florine’s midnight visit, of her declaration that Evergreen Title was now working exclusively with First People’s. “Should we address that, too?” he asked.

“We’ll address everything. We’re fighting for our lives here. It all has to be out in the open.”

Coy didn’t want to go. He thought about his previous spy mission, where he’d been unceremoniously ejected and tossed out on the sidewalk, but Shanley told him that the meeting had already been arranged and was scheduled for ten o’clock this morning. “So we’d better get busy. There’s a lot to go over.”

He read through a series of emails sent between the management of the two banks, the gist of them being that Montgomery Community was willing to enter into some sort of ill-defined “arrangement” with First People’s, although whether that meant designating certain areas of town as non-competitive, agreeing not to poach each others’ customers or…something else, the emails did not make clear and Shanley did not know. The initial idea for some type of “arrangement” had been suggested by Julius Pickering of The First People’s Bank, and Coy’s job was to hear him out, learn the proposed terms, and report back. Not having any authority, he would not be able to agree to anything or enter into a deal, but would only be authorized as a messenger. Representing Montgomery Community, he was to make the bank appear strong, successful and magnanimous in its willingness to entertain such a notion, all without offending his hosts.

“I can do it,” he promised, and for the next half-hour, the manager coached him.

Giving himself ten minutes to cross town, twice what he needed, Coy drove down the highway onto Main, finding a parking spot across the street from the bank. From this angle, it had the appearance of some quaint cinematic financial institution like the Bailey Savings and Loan or the bank in Our Town. It looked reliable, trustworthy, almost homey.

But he didn’t like First People’s, and he couldn’t understand how they were able to do as well as they did with the business model they were following. Once past all the bells and whistles of their big grand opening, they still didn’t seem to be integrating well with the community. Rumor had it that the bank had turned down Dennis Whittaker for a home-improvement loan, even though, as high school principal for the past decade, he held a stable steady job, while that ne’er do well Bob White had been given money interest-free to put up a shack on that trash-strewn scrap of land he called his property.

So why was it that customers were deserting Montgomery Community for this bank? To him, it seemed destined for failure. Maybe Shanley was right, maybe they’d made a few missteps here and there, but Montgomery Community knew this town. These interlopers were just bribing people with false promises.

As much as he might believe in the merits of his own workplace, however, Coy knew he was in no position to act superior. He was here on a mercy mission, and if First People’s didn’t show them some love, they might very well end up shutting their doors.

He walked across the street and inside, past the two security guards who had thrown him out the last time he’d been here. Involuntarily, his heart rate accelerated, but he ignored the fear and pressed on, asking a thuggish-looking man at the desk nearest the door where he might find Mr. Pickering.

Suddenly someone was standing next to Coy, although how that had happened without his noticing was a mystery. “I’m Mr. Pickering. You must be Mr. Stinson.”

Coy nodded cautiously. Pickering seemed familiar to him, although he had never met the man before. He was like a perfect amalgam of every banker Coy had seen in movies or on television.

Only…

There was something slightly off-putting about him, something unnatural and fundamentally aberrant in his otherwise bland and benign deportment that Coy recognized but could not pin down.

“Let us step into my office.”

Coy followed him between desks until they walked through an open doorway in the side wall. The room in which he found himself was large, functional yet designed to impress and possibly intimidate visitors. How could there even be an office here? Coy wondered. With stores to either side of the bank, there was no space in the building for any other rooms, let alone one of this size.

Nevertheless here it was: wood-paneled walls on which hung framed prints of famous landscape paintings, a bookcase filled with leatherbound volumes, a massive oak desk. Its contents itemized in such a manner, the office would seem to be perfectly normal. Yet there was something hideous about it. Just as with its occupant’s appearance, no single element was particularly unusual or out of place, but the overall effect remained one of profound unpleasantness. And there was something both strange and terrible about the shadows that lurked in the corners, shadows not tied to any specific object but seemingly manifested out of nothing.

Pickering walked around to the other side of the desk and sat down. Coy was invited to sit as well, and he did so in a comfortable ergonomically designed office chair opposite the bank…manager?...president? He realized for the first time that he did not know Pickering’s position. Shanley had not told him.

There was a standing eight-by-ten frame on the desk between a computer monitor and a stack of folders, facing Pickering, and the man turned it around so Coy could see the photo within. It was a full color photograph of a naked woman, a very familiar woman, her legs spread wide to display her completely bald and extremely pink genitalia.

Coy’s heart sank.

Florine.

“That’s my wife,” the banker said. He grinned. “Some beaver, eh?”

His wife? How could that be? Coy stared at the familiar curvy body in the picture, his head spinning. Had Florine married Pickering within the past week? Or had she been married all along, even when the two of them had been dating? Had their relationship been part of some elaborate long-range plot to feed information about Montgomery Community to First People’s? None of the possibilities made any rational sense, but they were all equally awful, and he sat there, feeling like a chump, wondering how much the man in front of him knew, wondering if the banker had been behind the whole thing.

“So…” Pickering said. “To what do I owe this visit?”

Dully, Coy said what Shanley had told him to say, describing how the two banks could help each other, offering to share Montgomery Community’s local contacts and knowledge of the town with its upstart rival. It was a merger they were proposing, though Shanley had made clear that he was not to call it that. “Let them decide how to refer to it,” he’d told Coy. “It’ll make them feel like it’s their idea.”

He would have been more confident if there were a visual component, if he had graphs or charts, or a brochure to hand out, but it was evident that this entreaty was a last-minute operation, and when he’d said his piece, he sat silently awaiting a response.

Pickering didn’t react right away. He stared at a spot over Coy’s head, almost as though he were frozen, and for a second Coy was afraid he would have to repeat the whole spiel because the man hadn’t been listening. But then Pickering turned the framed photo around to face him and told Coy, “You’ve given me something to think about. Let us mull things over. Talk amongst ourselves. We’ll let you know our decision by the end of the week.”

Coy nodded.

He hazarded one last glance at the back of the frame, saw in his mind the photo of a spreadeagled Florine.

“Is there something else I can help you with?”

A touch of annoyance had crept into Pickering’s voice, and Coy quickly shook his head. He didn’t want to queer the deal because he’d overstayed his welcome. “No,” he said. “Thank you for seeing me.”

Pickering’s eyes bored into his. “Good. Now get the fuck out of here before I have my guards toss you out on your ass again.”

2

Girls’ night out.

Anita could not remember the last time she’d hung with her friends for an evening. In fact, it had been so long that until all four of them had arrived at The North Fork, she wasn’t even sure they were still friends. Acquaintances, yes—they kept up on Facebook, sent each other birthday emails—but these days, aside from Jen, she saw no other women on a daily, weekly or even monthly basis.

That’s what marriage, motherhood and middle-age could do to you.

Such a sense of social isolation was probably what had led to the situation with Steven. That, in turn, had prompted her to get the old gang together again. She did feel a little guilty about leaving Kyle and Nick home alone tonight, especially after recent events, but the two of them had been through it together—she’d been little more than a bystander—and it was probably good for them to have some time to themselves. She was well aware that this was nothing more than an after-the-fact rationalization, but the truth was that Kyle had always been more self-sufficient than she was. He was perfectly happy to be left alone, but she needed more, and while they had both grown up in Montgomery, she had always been a part of things and he had just been…apart. That difference had been an ingredient in their appeal to each other, an element of their mutual attraction, and in a very real way, it was what had made their marriage work.

Until it didn’t.

The fact was, while their family had cut her off from her social life, it had given Kyle one. Left to his own devices, he would have been content reading a book or binge-watching television. It was she, and to a greater extent Nick, who were responsible for whatever engagement he had with people outside the store.

Now, drinking and hanging out with Ellen, Sharon, Patty and Gabrielle, she realized how much she missed being with her friends. Patty had gotten a new job since the last time they’d spoken. She’d quit working for that handsy Wade Portis at the Ford dealership and had been hired to work in the office at the junior college. Sharon was planning to break up with Chuck but didn’t know how to do it without causing him to freak out. So much had happened. Everyone’s life was so dynamic. In comparison with hers, which was completely static.

Another reason she’d almost gotten into that mess with—

Steven.

Her breath caught in her throat. There he was. At the bar, leaning in and sitting too close as he chatted up a topheavy bim. Anita could see him clearly between the shoulders of two cowboy-hatted men sitting across from their wives at a tall narrow table. She quickly looked away, praying she hadn’t been spotted, and crouched down a little behind Ellen in an effort to avoid being seen.

A moment later, she hazarded another glance in that direction.

And their eyes met.

“Shit,” she said.

He left the bar and started toward her.

“Oh, shit.”

“What is it?” Ellen asked.

Anita nodded toward Steven. “I’ve been trying to avoid him but he spotted me.”

Sharon squinted. “Is that the guy from the nursery?

“Yeah.”

“He always seemed alright to me. In fact, I thought he was kind of cute.”

Anita didn’t respond as she watched him approach. There was a smirk on his face and a swagger in his walk. She remembered the last time she’d seen him, in the greenhouse with his pants open and his erection out, and when she brought the bottle to her lips to take a fortifying sip of her beer, her hand was shaking.

“Hey there, ladies.” He nodded. “Anita.”

She ignored him, turning to Ellen and trying to come up with something to say in order to make it seem as though they were in the middle of a conversation, but her mind was blank.

“I haven’t seen you for a couple of days,” he told her. “What’re you up to?”

“Nothing,” she said, still not looking at him. She kept her hands on the table to keep them from shaking.

“Well, I’m expanding my business,” he bragged. “Getting into home security.”

She gathered up her courage. “A nursery and home security,” she said drily, letting the idiotic incongruity speak for itself.

What had she ever seen in him?

“That’s right. Got some major backing from that new bank. They believe in me.” That last was accusatory since it was clear even to him that she did not.

Good.

Something was needling her, a subtle nagging in the back of her mind, and it took her a few seconds to realize what it was.

Got some major backing from that new bank.

That was it.

The bank.

Just thinking about the place made her shiver, and she recalled with guilt and horror her initial—

sensual

—reaction upon meeting Mr. Worthington, her guilty feelings amplified by the fact that the banker had shielded Victor from the police after Victor had slaughtered his parents.

What in the world was happening in this town?

Steven was describing the alarm and surveillance systems he could install in houses, apartments and trailers. It was an attempt to make himself sound professional and successful, and while it was ostensibly for the benefit of everyone at the table, Anita knew his pitch was really aimed at her.

When he finished talking and there was an awkward silence as none of them asked any followup questions or exhibited any interest in him or what he had to say, Steven got the hint. Excusing himself, he walked back to the bar, and Anita breathed a sigh of relief, finishing off the rest of her drink.

Her friends were silent for a moment, looking at each other with raised eyebrows and stifled smiles. It was Patty, of course, who broke the ice. “What was that about?”

Anita shook her head. “Nothing.”

Ellen bumped her shoulder. “Don’t do that. Share.”

She hadn’t come clean with Jen, not even after Jen had apparently deduced what was going on, but she unburdened herself now, and it felt freeing to be able to speak openly about things she had only thought privately.

“He exposed himself?” Sharon said, grimacing with distaste. “What a creep.”

Ellen nodded. “That’s just icky.”

“Do men actually think that works?” Gabrielle wondered. “Do they really think that if we see it we’ll get so excited that we’ll do whatever they want?”

“It’s my fault,” Anita said softly. “I shouldn’t have let it go that far.”

“It’s not your fault,” Patty said. “At least, not all your fault.”

“Marriages are tough,” Gabrielle offered. “Sometimes you have to work at them. I know we’ve had our ups and downs.”

“I had an affair,” Ellen admitted, taking a sip of her drink.

They stared at her, shocked.

“It’s true,” she said quietly.

“What happened?” Anita asked.

“We went through kind of a rough patch early on, before the boys were born, when I was still an aide at the high school. We weren’t really talking…or doing much of anything else. I stayed after work a few too many times, got a little closer than I should have, and ended up doing something I shouldn’t have. Everything straightened itself out eventually, but…there was a lapse.”

“So who was it?” Patty.

“I’m not going to say.”

“Come on!” Everyone.

“Okay. Fine.” There was a long pause.

“Who?” they prodded.

“Dennis.”

Eyes widened all around. “Dennis Whittaker?” Sharon said.

Ellen nodded, embarrassed. “I know you used to go out with him,” she said, turning to Anita.

Anita raised her hands. “Tenth grade. And nothing happened.”

Patty cackled. “Well, it happened with Ellen.”

“Gross,” Gabrielle said.

“It actually was,” Ellen confided. “Gross, I mean. Sort of.” She fanned a hand in front of her. “I’m not getting into it.”

“Dennis,” Sharon said wonderingly.

“Yeah, well, it was a mistake. One I regret.” She turned toward Anita. “One you were smart to avoid.”

“I still think he’s cute,” Sharon reaffirmed. “But you definitely dodged a bullet there.”

“So did your husband ever find out?” Gabrielle asked.

Ellen shrugged. “I don’t know. I think he might have. But we never talked about it, and we’ve been back on track ever since.”

They were silent for a moment, letting it all sink in.

“Anybody have anything else?” Patty asked. “Any of you used to be a man?”

They laughed and decided to order one more round before calling it a night.

“This was fun,” Anita said as they prepared to leave. “We should do it more often.”

“We should,” they all agreed, but they were each so busy now that she knew it couldn’t be a regular thing. It would probably be awhile before they could make time to meet like this again. The thought made her sad.

She cast a furtive glance toward the bar. She didn’t see Steven, but the bim he’d been hitting on was still in place, talking to someone else. She imagined him waiting for her behind one of the cars in the dark parking lot, taking his penis out and stroking it so that it would be hard when she saw him.

“Anyone need a ride?” she asked as they got up and headed for the door.

“No.”

“Nope.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m good.”

“Well, could one of you walk with me to my car? Just in case…” She left the sentence unfinished.

“One for all and all for one,” Patty told her. She hefted her purse. “My pepper spray’s ready to go.”

Once in the open air, they all grew a little tense. The night was dark, and The North Fork was not only set back from the highway but ringed by an intimidating line of ponderosas that effectively blocked any lights from the street behind it. There were still quite a few vehicles in the parking lot, and each time they walked past one, Anita tensed up, half expecting to see a dark figure leap out at her.

Ahead was her own car, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw it.

Then she noticed the vehicle parked next to her Kia.

Steven’s truck from the nursery.

She audibly sucked in her breath, but Ellen immediately grabbed her hand in support, and Patty walked in front of them both, pepper spray at the ready.

He must have still been inside the bar, because there was no sign of him out here. There was no one in or around the truck, and Anita quickly said her goodbyes, got in the car, then watched and waited as her friends got into their own vehicles. They drove in a caravan onto the highway, staying together until they reached their own neighborhoods and honked their final farewells before branching off onto different streets.

3

“Can’t you sleep?”

Patty rolled over in bed to face him, and Brad sighed, shaking his head. He couldn’t sleep. He’d been in bed since nine, trying to catch up on all the shuteye he’d missed over the past week, and for the first hour or so he’d actually dozed, but some random household noise had roused him from slumber after that, and he’d been wide awake ever since. The only reason he hadn’t gotten out of bed to watch TV in the living room was because he hadn’t wanted to wake his wife.

Now that Patty was up, though, he kicked off the covers and swung his legs out of bed. He sat there for a moment staring down at his bare feet, fatigued but not sleepy, frustrated by the unwillingness of his brain and body to rest when they were supposed to.

But how could he shut down and relax with everything that was going on?

He saw in his mind the B of A manager slaughtered in the ditch by the control road; all those dead bodies laid out in the field; the Clarks butchered in their own garage; Carl Yates shooting himself in the head, brains and bone and blood bursting out the other side.

More than anything else, though, it was the new bank that was keeping him awake.

He could not forget the odd feeling he’d experienced inside the bank, a space that to him seemed far too large for the building it was in. And he could not shake the sense that something was wrong with the employees he and his men had questioned, many of whom had seemed vaguely familiar, like people he had once arrested.

More pertinently, the bank seemed to be at the swirling center of everything bad that was happening in Montgomery. It was the bank’s rivals from B of A who had been found dead in the forest. The bank had hired that Victor kid who had killed his parents (although everyone at the bank denied it. Denials he flat-out disbelieved). Even Carl had killed himself because a bank was foreclosing on his place, although, granted, it had been a different bank.

It was all probably just a bizarre coincidence, but, as a sheriff, he found coincidences automatically suspect, and Brad could not help thinking that there was a picture here he wasn’t seeing simply because he could not connect the dots.

Yet.

Patty had scooted over to his side of the bed, and she sat next to him on the edge. She smiled. “Should we turn on the radio? Listen to Chet’s show?”

“While he tells all his dimwitted insomniacs that they should kill me? I don’t think so.”

Patty frowned. “Has he really been saying that?”

Brad nodded tiredly.

“Throw his ass in jail,” she said fiercely. “Threatening a police officer.”

“I would if I could,” Brad confessed.

Patty was silent for a moment. She turned toward him. “Do you think one of them might actually—”

“They’re kooks,” he declared. “All bark and no bite. Just like Chet. They’re not going to do anything.”

“Carl did something,” she said softly. “And Chet blames you for it. I’m not sure he’s as toothless as you think he is.”

Brad put a hand on her bare knee. “I always take precautions, and I don’t take anything for granted,” he assured her. “But, honestly, I’m not worried about Chet and his dingbats.”

“Then what are you worried about? Because there’s some reason you’re wide awake at two in the morning.”

He sighed again. “Everything. All of it. Do you know how many people have died here in the past month? And I’m not talking old age. I’m talking murder and mysterious circumstances. It’s overwhelming. We’re just a little podunk force here, and we’re way out of our depth. I’m out of my depth.”

“Can’t you call…I don’t know, the state or something? The FBI?”

“Yeah. And we have. We are. And maybe they’ll send someone, but I’m pointman on this. This is my town, my jurisdiction, and me and my guys need to get our asses in gear and show some results.” He shook his head. “Then there’s that damn bank.”

“What bank?”

“The new one. The First People’s Bank. They’re hip deep in something, and I need to prove that, too.”

Patty straightened. “That bank’s been a godsend for real estate.”

“Seriously?”

“Well, maybe not in the long run, because their loan requirements are really lax, but—”

“Isn’t that what led to the housing crisis?”

“Realtors have to use good judgment. I’m not selling to just any Elmer off the street. If I think someone doesn’t qualify, I’ll steer him in another direction. But there are people who are borderline, who don’t look that good on paper but who I know are good for it—I’ve been in this business many years; I can spot them—and the new bank is giving them an opportunity.”

“Are you talking about your new clients?”

“Oh, no. I told you, they’re buying by the golf course. They’d qualify anywhere.”

“Now that you brought them up—”

“You brought them up.”

“—you do seem to be spending a lot of time with these people,” he said. “Maybe a little too much time.”

“I suppose so,” she mused. “But, believe me, it’s going to pay off.”

“Still, the girls.”

“I know.”

“And with all this going on, I’m having to put in extra hours, and work right now is not exactly…kid-friendly.”

“I understand. And I’ll try to schedule my outside meetings during school hours, so I can be there for them when they get out.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” He shifted position and his hand slipped from her knee, accidentally sliding up her thigh, where his fingers touched wetness.

He looked at her, eyebrow raised. “Really?”

She nodded, smiling.

Leaning back on the bed, she spread her legs, and he got on top of her. They did it wordlessly, silently, and when he sensed that it was about to happen and she was going to make some noise, he put his mouth over hers to muffle it, so the girls wouldn’t be awakened.

Afterward, they both used the bathroom, then both went back to bed.

Where they both fell asleep.

****

When he awoke in the morning, Patty was gone.

The girls were still in bed, and a note on the kitchen counter told him to make them breakfast. He was angry that, even after her promise last night to spend more time with the kids, she’d left him here without telling him where she was going, while he was supposed to get them ready and take them to school.

Only it wasn’t a school day, he remembered. It was Saturday. With so much going on, he was losing track of time.

So who was going to watch the girls? He still needed to be in the office by eight, and he grew even angrier as he realized that he was also going to have to arrange for daycare.

What could Patty have been thinking?

“Time to wake up!” he called out.

Judging by the screams and laughter that greeted his words, Sue and Jillian were already awake. Brad was not much of a cook, and the only breakfast foods he knew how to prepare were cinnamon toast or Cheerios, but he offered them their choice of either, and they both voted for cinnamon toast with hot chocolate.

He drank some coffee and checked his phone while Sue and Jillian ate their breakfast, hoping Patty had arranged for someone to watch the girls. There were no messages, but Patty called right at that moment, apologizing profusely. An emergency had come up, she told him.

“Emergency?” he said. “I’m the goddamn sheriff. I deal with real emergencies.”

Jillian’s eyes grew wide. “Daddy said a bad word!”

“Keep eating,” he told her. He took the phone down the hall to the bedroom. “It wasn’t a real emergency,” he told Patty. “It was a real estate emergency. There’s a big difference. You should have woken me up and told me. Now I have to get to work and find someone to watch the kids.”

“Just drop them by my office on your way,” she said. “I’ll be there before you will. And you’re right. I should have woken you up. I’m sorry. Forgive me?”

He couldn’t stay mad at her when she used that voice, and he apologized for getting angry, and she apologized again for not waking him, and they hung up on good terms.

He walked back to the kitchen. For some reason, his tackle box was out, moved from the rec closet to the floor in front of the dryer, and he wondered if Patty had needed something from it. What could that be, though? The mystery gnawed at him as the girls finished eating and then went off to brush their teeth, and though he thought about calling her back, he decided to wait and ask her in person.

Patty was indeed waiting for them at the real estate office, and Brad gratefully dropped off Sue and Jillian. He’d had the scanner on low, so the girls couldn’t hear it while they chattered away in the back seat, but there’d been a robbery and assault overnight, and he needed to get to the office as quickly as possible. The amount of crime in Montgomery was getting ridiculous. Their little town was turning into a miniature Chicago.

He kissed Sue and Jillian, gave each of them a hug, then handed them off to their Mommy.

It was not until he was driving away that he realized he’d forgotten to ask Patty about the tackle box.

That’s okay, he thought. He’d ask her later.

4

Jen awoke at six to the sound of tapping.

At first she thought someone on the street was having some remodeling done and that construction was starting. Then she thought it might be the woodpecker she’d seen yesterday on the telephone pole behind their house. But she quickly realized that the tapping was not coming from outside.

It was coming from The Room.

A chill passed through her, and Jen instinctively reached for Lane, but his side of the mattress was empty. He was already up and in the bathroom, and as the tapping continued, she got out of bed and stepped into the hallway. The noise was louder here, and she could definitely tell that it was coming from behind the closed locked door of The Room.

The wave of cold that passed over her could have merely been her own physical fear response, or it could have actually come from beneath the doorway to The Room. Either way, it rooted her in place, and in a small trembling voice she called, “Lane?”

“Be out in a minute!” came his reply from the bathroom, and for a moment, the tapping paused.

Then it started again.

She stared at the closed door of The Room. What was in there and how had it gotten into the house in the first place?

It.

She was already thinking of it as “it.”

The tapping continued.

Was something knocking on the door itself, or was there an object within the room that was being struck? It was impossible to tell, but either way, it sounded like wood rather than metal. Definitely not plastic or glass.

Was there a pattern to it? She couldn’t detect any. The taps came in even intervals, and there were no differences in their length or volume. The sound was metronomic in its constancy, and the fact that she couldn’t readily identify its source contributed to Jen’s unease.

What was in there?

Gathering her courage, she knocked on the door, a light polite rap.

The noise on the other side stopped, replaced by a less mechanical, more biological sound that almost reminded her of a laugh.

It sounded once, then all was silent. But that once was enough. She ran back into the bedroom, slamming shut the door and screaming as she leaped on the bed and hid her head under the covers like a child.

She heard the toilet flush, its sound muffled by the blanket, and seconds later, Lane burst into the room. “What is it? What’s going on?”

She threw off the blanket and practically jumped into his arms.

He seemed confused. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t live like this!” She was practically sobbing.

“Like what? What are you talking about?”

“That noise!” She pointed to the wall that separated them from The Room. “Didn’t you hear it?”

He nodded. “I admit, it’s annoying…”

“Annoying? What the hell is it? There’s a room in our house that we can’t go in, and something’s living in there! Something that knocks on the wall or the floor or the ceiling or whatever furniture is in there with it.” She pulled away from him, looking frantically into his eyes. “I knocked on the door, and the sound stopped, and something laughed! Laughed!” She shivered. “We can’t live like this! I can’t live like this!”

“What do you want to do?” he asked her. “Give up our home? Because that’s the only other choice.”

“I could. Easily. Because it’s not my home. It’s not our home. We haven’t settled in here. We haven’t even finished unpacking! Most of our boxes are still in the garage.”

“What are you saying?”

“We sell it. We put it on the market, recoup our loss and look for someplace else.”

“That’s crazy. We haven’t even made our first payment yet.”

She looked at him levelly. “I’m not living in a house where I can’t go into one of my own rooms, a room that has some sort of thing in it. I mean, Jesus, there could be a…a mental patient tied up in there, or a wild animal, or—”

“A monster?”

“See? You’re thinking it, too!” She put her arms around him, felt the tension in his muscles. “This isn’t normal, this isn’t right, and I’m not living like this, afraid of my own house.”

“All right, okay, it’s freaky. It creeps me out, too. But…I’m not sure there’s anything we can really do about it. I mean, we did sign the agreement—”

“And whose fault was that?”

“Fine. Blame me all you want, but I’m pretty sure we’re locked in.”

“I’m pretty sure we’re not. Because people sell houses all the time. People flip houses. There are shows about it!” She looked up at him. “And that’s all we’d be doing. We bought a house, now we try to sell it for more than we paid and make a profit.”

“What if we can’t sell it?”

“We walk away. People do it all the time. The bank’ll take it, and then it’ll be their problem.”

Lane shook his head. “Our credit would be ruined. We’d never be able to buy a house again. And you know how much you wanted a house. How much we wanted a house.” He thought for a moment. “Although…” he said slowly.

“Although what?”

“We could rent it out. Our monthly payments are low, pretty much what rent for a place like this would be. We could rent it out to a couple or a family and use the money to make payments while we tried to sell it. It’d give us the chance to wait for a decent price.”

Jen immediately felt brighter. “Yes! Let’s do it!”

“I’ll have to find out how,” he mused. “Although I think Stapely, at work, has a rental unit. I could ask him. Even if he doesn’t know, he’ll know someone who will.”

She smiled. “Then we can get a real house, one that’s all ours. A home.”

He smiled back at her. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Me, too.”

They hugged.

And from inside The Room, the tapping started again.