STATIC FIZZLED ON THE SCREEN WHILE EVERYONE sat frozen in their seats, unable to move.
Kumiko was the first to break the spell. She jumped up and turned off the television with a shaky hand. “What the hell was that?”
Gunner scratched his knee. “Maybe Jessica’s messing with us?”
“Backstabbing? Character assassination?” Vivian’s voice seemed to have gone up an octave. “What does that even mean?”
“I can honestly say that was the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen,” Ben said.
“Math problems?” Nathan said with a tense laugh. “And a noose? I mean, it’s just a joke, right?”
“Sick joke,” T.J. said. He was still staring at the dark television screen, his jaw muscles clenched tight.
“It couldn’t mean anything,” Vivian said.
From the corner of the room, someone sobbed. Everyone turned. Lori sat on the window bench, frantically rubbing the side of her face. Her eyes were red and swollen, and heavy tears streaked down her cheeks.
“Lori, are you okay?” Kenny asked. He heaved himself off the sofa with more agility than Meg thought possible and was across the room to her in an instant.
He placed his hand on her shoulder, and Lori started as if she’d been woken out of a deep sleep. There was a look on her face that Meg could only describe as panic. Without warning, she balled up her fists and pounded them against the wooden bench. “Who did this?”
Everyone froze. Stunned.
Nathan glanced at the blank television screen. “Huh?”
“One of you did it. To scare us.” Lori looked around aimlessly. “I need … I need …” She spotted the beer Ben had placed next to her and polished it off.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Vivian said. She sounded less than sure. “Calm down, okay?”
“Calm down?” Lori grabbed Vivian by the shoulders. “Someone’s trying to scare us. Someone’s out to get us.”
Meg’s eyes grew wide. Did she mean everyone or just her and Vivian?
Vivian shook herself free. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” Lori wobbled a bit and steadied herself against the wall. “You think this is a coincidence? I know what that means. I know what you did.”
“Excuse me?”
“What you did to that girl last year. Everyone knew about it.”
Vivian flinched. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really? Please. You’d stab your own mother in the back to win that competition.”
Gunner leaned into Kumiko. “What’s with the freak-out?”
T.J. shook himself, then stood up slowly. “I think we all need to calm down,” he said. “It’s been a long day and we’re probably all tired. Maybe we should call it a night?”
“I’m getting out of here. First thing in the morning.” Lori stumbled down the hallway. “I’m not staying here with you liars.”
Meg listened to Lori’s staggering footsteps as she ascended the stairs. She’d only seen Lori drink one beer, so she couldn’t be drunk. Was she that upset?
As soon as Lori was gone, Vivian dashed down the hall after her without saying a word. Meg was pretty sure she was crying.
“Damn,” Minnie said. “What is wrong with everyone?”
“I’m sharing a room with Lori,” Kumiko said. She sounded genuinely concerned. “I’ll make sure she’s all right.”
“Okay,” T.J. said. “Good.”
No one spoke as they filed out of the living room. No one looked anyone else in the eye. There was zero interest in discussing what they’d just seen.
They trudged up the stairs, single file, like school children marching off for detention. At the second floor, everyone disappeared into their own rooms. The door to Vivian’s room was already closed. At the other end of the hall, Kumiko approached her bedroom door, knocked softly, then entered.
The oppressive silence lingered as Meg and Minnie ascended the stairs to the garret. They didn’t speak while they got into their pajamas, they didn’t speak while they climbed into bed, they didn’t speak as Meg turned off the light.
Meg stared at the roof, listening to the sharp tapping of the rain as it was catapulted into the windows by a ferocious wind. She’d been so excited to stay in that room but now everything felt odd. Off in a way she couldn’t explain.
Meg shook her head. Jessica would be arriving in the morning with more guests. The storm would probably blow over during the night and tomorrow things would be different. She was being silly; she just needed some sleep.
“We should see about getting out of here tomorrow,” Minnie said softly. The nearest guest room was down on the second floor, yet she still whispered.
“Really?” Meg asked. “But I thought you were having a good time?”
“Yeah …” Minnie’s voice trailed off, then she fell silent. Meg could hear her turning over in bed. “Meg?”
“Yeah.”
“Will I be okay? When you’re in LA?”
“Mins, you’ll be fine.”
A rustle of sheets and bedding. “Sometimes, I don’t think I can, you know? Be fine without you. I’m not sure I can do it.”
“We’ll talk about it later, okay?” Meg said. “When we’re home.” She didn’t want to have that conversation at all, let alone in the pitch-black garret at White Rock House with T.J. sleeping in a room downstairs. It made her feel even more like a traitor to her friendship with Minnie: First she was running away to college, then she was rekindling her feelings for T.J.
“Promise?” Minnie said. Another promise no one expected her to keep.
“Promise.”
A roar of wind rattled every window in the garret and the rain lashed at the glass so fiercely it sounded as if someone had thrown a handful of pebbles at the side of the house. The light filtering through the white gauze curtains was muted and dull, and Meg’s first thought as she squinted her eyes open was that the storm must have raged all night without letting up. Judging by the wind and the rain, they were in for another dark, damp day on Henry Island.
She shivered and pulled the quilt up around her ears. Damn, the house was freezing. Had someone turned off the heat? She rolled on her side to check the time on the alarm clock, but the digital face was completely blank. No wonder it was so cold. The storm must have knocked out the power during the night. No power, no heat, no satellite. Minnie was right—they needed to catch the first boat out of there.
Meg listened for other noises in the house, but there was only the sound of Minnie’s rhythmic breathing. She lay there for a moment, eyes squeezed shut against the encroaching daylight, and wondered if she should get up and tell someone about the power outage. Eh, what could they do? No point in leaving a warm bed. She snuggled under her covers, hoping she’d drift back off to sleep.
Except she had to pee. Small bladder and too much beer. She swung her legs over the bed and tested her toes on the frigid floor, silently cursing her decision not to pack slippers. With the giant comforter wrapped around her, Meg tiptoed across the garret and down the stairs.
There was a slight breeze in the open stairwell of the tower that sent a chill racing down Meg’s neck. She hitched the comforter up over her head—sympathizing suddenly with Eskimos, mummies, and women in burkas—and quickened her pace.
Pat, pat, pat. The sound of her bare feet was distant and fuzzy as it permeated the layers of thick down wrapped around her head. Her toes were so cold she could barely feel the smooth wood of the stairs, and the comforter cocoon was like having blinders on: She could only see a small oval right in front of her. She moved as quickly as her bulky wrap would allow, praying she didn’t trip and send herself careening down the stairs or worse, over the railing. That fall would certainly end in a broken neck.
Why was she always thinking of the most morbid scenarios? Sheesh. Just go down to the bathroom then back to her warm, comfy bed.
Pat, pat, pat.
Creeeeeak.
Meg paused. Was that the stairs creaking? It sounded like it came from somewhere above her. Maybe the old house was straining against the storm? She rounded a corner and heard it again.
Creeeeeeak. A shadow on the white wall of the tower caught her eye. There was something odd about it, something familiar, and yet there shouldn’t be a shadow there at all. The windows in the tower didn’t have any curtains, nothing to cast a shadow. Meg stared at it for a second and noticed the shadow was moving, swaying slowly from left to right.
Creeeeeak.
Meg froze, her eyes locked on the shadow. The heavy form, oblong and amorphous except for the dangling appendages....
Legs. Holy crap, they were legs.
Meg turned her head and came eye-to-eye with a face hanging in the stairwell. The noose around the neck. The purplish-blue hue to the skin.
Meg opened her mouth and screamed.