bead of sweat rolling down her spine, slipping under the elastic band of her panties.
Behind her on the floor, Julie stirred. Don’t move, Julie. Don’t breathe.
The man stopped in front of the pantry door. He reached out. And pushed the door the rest of the way shut. The latch clicked into place.
He hadn’t discovered them.
Now they were truly trapped.
Andie brought a hand to her mouth to hold back her cry of relief and panic. What did they do now? she wondered, shifting slightly so she could see Julie’s face now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. And where was Raven?
Julie’s eyes were wide and terrified. Andie felt her friend’s rising hysteria; it mirrored her own. She fought the urge to scream. To just open her mouth and let out a wail of terror, and then run for it. Past the man. The man who had no business being in this house, in this neighborhood. The man who could be anyone. Or anything. A rapist or murderer.
Instead, Andie held tightly to her control and brought a finger to her lips to signal Julie to be quiet. Her friend nodded and pressed her face to her drawn-up knees.
The minutes seemed like hours. An eternity. As they ticked past, the pantry became hotter, closer. It was like a tomb, an airless box. Andie began to sweat; the urge to scream, to run, grew. She didn’t know how much longer she would be able to last.
She counted to ten, then twenty, forcing herself to breathe evenly. She told herself everything would be all right. The pantry was empty. If he didn’t hear them, there should be no reason for him to open the door. As long as they were quiet, they would be okay. So would Raven.
She closed her eyes, imagining him there in the dark, drinking his beer. Imagined him turning suddenly toward the pantry door, sensing their presence, their panic. The way a predator in the wild does.
The metallic taste of fear nearly gagged her. She strained to hear him. Every so often she thought she heard him stir, his footfall, his rhythmic breathing. She couldn’t be sure.
She held her breath and prayed. Please, God. Please make him go away.
The prayer played in her head, over and over again until she suddenly realized she was digging her nails into her palms, that she was light-headed from holding her breath.
At the same moment she realized it had been quiet for some time.
The pantry door flew open.
Her cry shattered the quiet.
It was Raven. With a sob of relief, Andie tumbled out, Julie behind her. They fell into each other’s arms, clinging to one another.
“Where were you?” Andie cried. “I was so worried he’d see you!”
“In the dining room. Are you guys okay?”
“Fine. Fi—”
“I want to go home,” Julie said, her teeth beginning to chatter. “I want to go home.”
Raven caught Julie’s hands and rubbed them. “What do you think he was up to?”
“I don’t know. It was so weird. He—” Andie bit the words back, new fear taking her breath. “Are you sure he’s gone? Are you sure—”
“He’s gone.” Raven indicated the family room. “He went the way he came in.”
Andie looked in the direction Raven pointed. “What if he comes back? He could be hiding, waiting for us.”
“Why would he do that?” Raven shook her head. “No, I heard the garage door. He’s gone.”
“I want to go,” Julie said again, starting to cry. “I don’t like it here. He could have hurt us.”
Andie hugged her. “It’s okay, sweetie. He didn’t touch us. He’s gone. You’re fine.”
“But he could have! If he’d found us, he could have done … anything. No one knew we were here!”
“Who was he?” Raven asked softly, as if speaking to no one but herself.
Andie turned to Raven. “I didn’t get a look at him. Did you?”
The other girl gazed at her for a moment, then shook her head. “You didn’t see his face? I thought for sure you had. He was right there.”
“It was dark, and when he came close I drew back from the door.” Andie pressed a hand to her fluttering stomach. “I think I closed my eyes, too. I was so scared he was going to find us.”
“Me, too.” Raven let out a long breath. “I was too afraid to peek around the doorway.” She laughed, the sound high and excited. “What a rush.” She laughed again and crossed to the breakfast counter. “Come see. He left these.”
Andie followed her friend. She stared down at what looked like two folded pieces of black fabric.
“What are they?” Andie asked.
“Scarves.”
Raven moved to pick one up; Andie caught her hand. “Don’t touch it.”
“Why not? I’ll put them back the way I found them.” She shook off Andie’s hand and picked one up. It was long and narrow and semisheer. “It’s so soft. Feel it.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Andie did. The fabric slithered through her fingers, as soft as butterfly wings. “My mom has a scarf that feels like this. It’s silk.”
“Silk,” Raven repeated. “Why did he bring these here? What are they for?” She met Andie’s eyes. “Who is he, Andie? What’s he doing here?”
Andie searched her friend’s gaze. “I don’t know. But I don’t think we need to find out.”
Julie came up behind them, white as a sheet. “I don’t feel so good. I want to go.”
Andie nodded, then nudged Raven who had turned her attention back to the scarf. She seemed almost mesmerized by it and her own questions. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“They’re for a woman, that’s for sure. But who? Why did he bring them here? And why two of them?”
Julie moaned and bent slightly at the waist. Andie put an arm around her. “Come on, Raven,” she said again. “Julie’s sick.”
As if only just realizing Andie had spoken, Raven looked blankly at her. “What?”
“Julie’s sick. We’ve got to get out of here.”
Raven nodded, refolded the scarf, then the three of them left the way they had come in. As they did, Andie glanced back at the dark house. She was never coming back here, she promised herself. Never.
6
For the next
