She’d fallen asleep at her desk again, something she’d already done a couple of times over the past week. There were only a few changes left to make on Synchronicity. It would take an hour or so, assuming she could stay conscious that long. She stood, yawning. Must be an open window somewhere.
And suddenly she was wide awake, frozen in place, her heart pounding. There were no open windows in her house in November. She knew that for a fact.
At least none that she’d opened herself.
She reached behind her desk for the baseball bat she’d begun keeping there after Lorne Barrymore’s visit. Was it Barrymore? Why would he come back at night? Jess started inching toward the hall that led to the bedrooms.
Shadows cloaked the dining room and the kitchen—the only light she’d left burning was in the living room, and it reflected dimly over the dining room walls. Jess moved carefully along the side of the room, narrowing her eyes to see into the faint light. Cool air brushed across her face from the open window.
One mystery solved. She knew damn well she hadn’t left the dining room window open when she’d started working on the site. She tightened her grip on the bat, moving closer to the bedrooms.
The bedrooms where Jack was sleeping.
She felt a quick surge of panic, making her throat clench. Stop it! You don’t have time for this. Cool air from the window played along the back of her neck. She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering herself together, then moved into the hall as quietly as she could.
Darkness enveloped her again, more total here. None of the light from the living room reached this far. She fumbled her hand along the wall, trying to find the light switch.
The blow to her shoulder sent her stumbling backward. Jess squawked in surprise and pain as the bat slipped from her fingers onto the floor with a thump. A shadowy figure brushed past her, shoving her hard against the wall as it did. Jess clawed at a sleeve, feeling muscle and bone underneath. The intruder jerked away, backhanding her hard across the face.
Sparks danced in front of her eyes, but she lurched to her feet again, turning back toward the dining room. “Son of a bitch,” she gasped, stumbling after the dimly moving shadow until she heard a thin wail behind her.
“Jack,” she whispered. “Oh, Christ, Jack!” She turned and ran back down the hall toward the bedrooms.
The door to Jack’s room was closed. Jess pushed through, muttering, “Please be all right, please, please, please.” In his room, Jack clung to the side of his crib, his wails increasing as he saw her. She scooped him into her arms, fighting back the wave of nausea roiling through her stomach.
She sank to the floor, holding him against her chest, feeling his breathing calm to a series of gasping sobs. “It’s okay,” she murmured, rubbing his back. “It’s all okay.” She leaned her forehead against the crib rail, trying to catch her breath, knowing she was a fool and a fraud.
Things in Konigsburg, Texas, had never been less okay, at least not for the Carroll family.
Lars knew he should go to bed. It was after ten. He had to get up at six tomorrow, if Daisy didn’t get him up sooner than that—as she probably would. Nothing in the report he was writing had to be done tonight.
Still he kept doggedly hitting keys. He was going to finish one thing before he went to bed. Even if it was so boring he was ready to doze on top of his keyboard.
The buzz of his cell phone jolted him back to consciousness. He glanced at the number. Jess Carroll.
Jess Carroll? At this time of night? Please, please, please don’t have a sick kid that will make me send Daisy to Wee Care. The thought of the logistical nightmare that scenario would involve made his blood run cold. He hit the connect button. “Yeah?”
“Mr. Toleffson? Lars?”
Lars frowned. Her voice sounded muffled, scratchy. Oh lord, maybe she was the one who was sick! That was worse—adults took
And suddenly she was wide awake, frozen in place, her heart pounding. There were no open windows in her house in November. She knew that for a fact.
At least none that she’d opened herself.
She reached behind her desk for the baseball bat she’d begun keeping there after Lorne Barrymore’s visit. Was it Barrymore? Why would he come back at night? Jess started inching toward the hall that led to the bedrooms.
Shadows cloaked the dining room and the kitchen—the only light she’d left burning was in the living room, and it reflected dimly over the dining room walls. Jess moved carefully along the side of the room, narrowing her eyes to see into the faint light. Cool air brushed across her face from the open window.
One mystery solved. She knew damn well she hadn’t left the dining room window open when she’d started working on the site. She tightened her grip on the bat, moving closer to the bedrooms.
The bedrooms where Jack was sleeping.
She felt a quick surge of panic, making her throat clench. Stop it! You don’t have time for this. Cool air from the window played along the back of her neck. She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering herself together, then moved into the hall as quietly as she could.
Darkness enveloped her again, more total here. None of the light from the living room reached this far. She fumbled her hand along the wall, trying to find the light switch.
The blow to her shoulder sent her stumbling backward. Jess squawked in surprise and pain as the bat slipped from her fingers onto the floor with a thump. A shadowy figure brushed past her, shoving her hard against the wall as it did. Jess clawed at a sleeve, feeling muscle and bone underneath. The intruder jerked away, backhanding her hard across the face.
Sparks danced in front of her eyes, but she lurched to her feet again, turning back toward the dining room. “Son of a bitch,” she gasped, stumbling after the dimly moving shadow until she heard a thin wail behind her.
“Jack,” she whispered. “Oh, Christ, Jack!” She turned and ran back down the hall toward the bedrooms.
The door to Jack’s room was closed. Jess pushed through, muttering, “Please be all right, please, please, please.” In his room, Jack clung to the side of his crib, his wails increasing as he saw her. She scooped him into her arms, fighting back the wave of nausea roiling through her stomach.
She sank to the floor, holding him against her chest, feeling his breathing calm to a series of gasping sobs. “It’s okay,” she murmured, rubbing his back. “It’s all okay.” She leaned her forehead against the crib rail, trying to catch her breath, knowing she was a fool and a fraud.
Things in Konigsburg, Texas, had never been less okay, at least not for the Carroll family.
Lars knew he should go to bed. It was after ten. He had to get up at six tomorrow, if Daisy didn’t get him up sooner than that—as she probably would. Nothing in the report he was writing had to be done tonight.
Still he kept doggedly hitting keys. He was going to finish one thing before he went to bed. Even if it was so boring he was ready to doze on top of his keyboard.
The buzz of his cell phone jolted him back to consciousness. He glanced at the number. Jess Carroll.
Jess Carroll? At this time of night? Please, please, please don’t have a sick kid that will make me send Daisy to Wee Care. The thought of the logistical nightmare that scenario would involve made his blood run cold. He hit the connect button. “Yeah?”
“Mr. Toleffson? Lars?”
Lars frowned. Her voice sounded muffled, scratchy. Oh lord, maybe she was the one who was sick! That was worse—adults took
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