their confusion, anger, and hurt. In their pain, they lashed out at each other.
One afternoon in early August, Mark came down to Seattle from their home in Bellingham, and he met Ina for a drink at the Alexis Hotel. He’d come to her for consolation. But they ended up talking about her problems with George. They also ended up in a room on the fifth floor—and in bed together.
She couldn’t believe it. Mark, her brother-in-law, of all people. She’d known him for eighteen years and, yes, when he’d first started dating Jenna, she’d had a bit of a crush on him. In his late twenties, he’d been a cute guy, but he’d gained a lot of weight and lost a lot of hair since then. Appearances were very important to Ina, and she’d married the right guy for that. She loved hearing her girlfriends describe George as a hunk. He taught history at the University of Washington, and she relished walking in on his classes from time to time. Whenever George introduced her to the class as his wife, Ina could tell which ones had crushes on him. She’d get these dagger looks from several girls (and often a guy or two) sitting in the front row. She knew they wanted what she had. Her husband was six foot two and kept in shape with visits to the gym three times a week. Sure, his thick black hair had started to gray at the temples, and his pale-green eyes now needed glasses for reading, but those specs made him look distinguished—and even sexier. Mark couldn’t hold a candle to George in the looks department. Yet her slightly chubby, balding brother-in-law had made her feel incredibly desirable in bed that afternoon at the Alexis. She’d never felt so sexy and attractive, so validated.
Still, as they were leaving the hotel, Mark started saying it had been a horrible mistake. They’d slipped. They were nice people—and married to nice people. This shouldn’t have happened. He blamed it on his grief and the number of drinks he’d had. (Only two scotches; she’d counted.) But Ina knew better. He’d always been attracted to her, and what had happened in the Alexis that afternoon had been long overdue.
She, too, regretted “slipping,” but a part of Ina still wanted Mark to find her desirable. Even if nothing ever happened again, she wanted to be desired. And for that she deserved her sister’s snippy attitude tonight.
She took another look out the window. The trees and bushes swayed slightly in the wind. On a quiet night like this, she thought she should have been able to hear Mark’s footsteps. But there wasn’t a sound.
A chill raced through her, and Ina rubbed her arms. She glanced at the doorway to the cellar, open just an inch, and beyond that, darkness. They should have checked down there—in the furnace room and the fallout shelter. Mark and Jenna used it for storage. It was a perfect hiding place.
Moving over to the sink, Ina grabbed a steak knife from the drain rack. She checked the cellar door again. The opening seemed wider than before. Or was it just her imagination? She told herself that if someone was on those rickety old basement steps, she’d have heard the boards creaking. Still, she studied the murky shadows past that cellar doorway. With the knife clutched in her hand, Ina hurried to the basement door and shut it.
The clock on the stove read 12:20. Mark had been gone at least five minutes. How long did it take to circle around this little house? Something was wrong. “C’mon, Mark, c’mon,” she murmured, looking out the window again.
She thought about calling upstairs to her sister. Why should she be the only one worried? But Jenna was probably asleep already.
Ina unlocked the kitchen door, opened it, and glanced outside. The cold air swept against her bare legs and her robe fluttered. Shivering, she held on to the knife. “Mark?” she called softly. “Mark? Where are you? Can you hear me?”
She waited for a moment, and listened.
Then she heard it—a rustling sound, and twigs snapping underfoot. “Mark?” she called out again, more shrill this time. “Mark, please, answer me…”
“Yeah, I’m here,” he replied, emerging from the shadows of an evergreen beside the house. He carried the hunting rifle at his side, and seemed frazzled. “You were right,” he said, out of breath. “Something was out there. I don’t know if it was two-legged or four-legged, but I chased it halfway up the trail.”
Dumbfounded, Ina stepped back as he ducked inside.
“We’re okay now,” he said, shutting the door and locking it. “Whatever it was, it’s not coming back.” He set the rifle on the breakfast table, then reached into one of the cupboards. “Jesus, it’s cold as a polar bear’s pecker out there. I think we could both use a shot of Jack.”
Ina set the knife down beside the gun. She watched him pull a bottle of Jack Daniel’s from the cupboard. He retrieved two jelly glasses with the Flintstones on them and poured a shot of the bourbon into each one.
“Has this kind of thing ever happened here before?” she asked warily.
Shaking his head, Mark handed her a glass. “Not quite. We’ve had bears come up to the house, like Jenna was saying. But I don’t think this was a bear.” He took a swig of bourbon.
Ina sipped hers. “What makes you so sure this…creature isn’t coming back?”
“Because it was running so fast. The damn thing must be in another zip code by now. But to be on the safe side, I’ll pull guard duty down here for another hour or so.”
“I’ll keep you company,” she offered.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Ina.”
She let out an awkward, little laugh. “Why? Are you afraid we might ‘slip’ again?”
Mark sighed. “I told you before. It won’t happen a second time. And it sure as hell ain’t gonna happen with Jenna sitting in bed upstairs. God, Ina, what’s wrong with you?”
Glaring at him, she gulped down the rest of her bourbon, and then firmly set the glass on the kitchen counter. “I was just asking a simple question. That wasn’t a come-on, you asshole.”
She started to head out of the kitchen, but he grabbed her arm. “Listen…” But he didn’t say anything for a moment. Finally, he sighed and let go of her arm. “We’re both tired and on edge, saying things we don’t mean. Just—just let’s call it a night, okay?”
Ina didn’t say anything to him, but she nodded.
“I’m going upstairs to say goodnight to Jenna. Then I’ll come back down here to keep watch. You should head up and try to get some sleep.” He poured some more Jack Daniel’s into her Flintstones glass. “Here. Have another blast of this. It’ll help you doze off.”
“Thanks,” Ina said, taking the glass, and moving toward the sink. She still wasn’t looking at him. But she could see his reflection in the darkened window as he stepped out of the kitchen.
Ina took a gulp of the bourbon. It was warming and took a bit of the edge off.
She listened to the staircase floorboards creaking. She just assumed it was Mark on his way up to the second floor.
Ina didn’t consider the possibility that the sound might be coming from the cellar steps.
The toilet flushing woke her.
Ina had nodded off for only a few minutes. She’d come up to bed about an hour ago, leaving Mark down in the living room with his hunting rifle. As Ina
