House at the End of the Street by Lily Blake, David Loucka, Jonathan Mostow

Jacobsen!” The officer kept knocking. Ryangrabbed a handkerchief from the drawer and knotted it around Elissa’s head, tying the end of it in her mouth. She gagged several times as she tried to scream through the cloth. Then Ryan turned to go. He didn’t look back at her as he climbed the ladder, the trapdoor falling shut behind him.

R yan stood at the top of the basement stairs. He straightened his shirt and made sure there were no blood smears on his clothes. This wasn’t his fault. He had been punished for so long; he was just trying to make everything right. Why couldn’t they all see that he was trying to make it right? He wouldn’t let Officer Weaver take the girl away from him. He’d already lost Carrie Anne once. He wouldn’t let it happen again.
    He walked into the kitchen, taking in the silhouette just outside the door. Weaver had his hands cupped over his eyes, trying to see inside the dark kitchen. He’d come to know this man over the years. Weaver said he looked out for him. He was the one who’d come by when people were outside, throwing rocks through the upstairs windows.Weaver claimed he cared about Ryan—he said he was there if Ryan needed someone to talk to, though they he never had.
    “Ryan, I was just at the hospital,” Officer Weaver said as Ryan opened the door and let him in. “I saw what you did to Tyler’s leg. His parents are threatening to sue. Want to tell me what happened?”
    Weaver’s eyes scanned the kitchen. Ryan moved in front of the trash can, closing the lid behind him. He blocked it from Weaver’s view. “All I did was fight back.”
    Weaver rested his hands on his belt. “Listen, I’m going to do my best to get this to blow over. But I need you to stay out of trouble.”
    Nothing is going to blow over
, Ryan thought. It was too late now. Everything was wrong. Any chance he’d had for a normal life had disappeared long ago. Everything was punishment now, punishment for what he’d done to Carrie Anne.
    Ryan leveled his eyes at the officer. “You ever get tired of playing tough guy?” he asked. This was always Weaver’s routine, telling Ryan what to do, pretending like he was protecting him. He’d never protected him. No one had.
    Weaver let out a long, slow breath. “I’ll call you in the morning so you can give your statement. Elissa’s mom is worried about her. She sent me over here because she thought Elissa was with you. Have you seen her?”
    Ryan’s eyes fell somewhere on the floor. He picked at hisfingers, a numbness spreading out inside of him. “I saw her earlier at the Battle of the Bands,” he lied. “Isn’t she there?”
    “No. We thought she might be at home, but she’s not there either.” Weaver stared him down. Ryan hated how the officer studied him, his house, as if it were his right to be here.
Get out of my house
, Ryan thought, the rage building inside him.
This is
my
house—the only thing I have left.
    “I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” Weaver said. As he walked out, his eyes lingered for a moment on the counter. Then he stepped onto the porch, the door closing behind him.
    Ryan turned, noticing the girl’s wallet sitting there in plain view. Weaver had seen it—he knew he had. Ryan threw it in the trash can and went to the door, locking it. He started back toward the basement, when he heard a phone ringing—Elissa’s phone. In the dimly lit kitchen he couldn’t make out exactly where it was. He glanced out onto the front porch, where he saw Weaver, his cell phone pressed to his ear. He had turned back to the house when he’d heard the first ring coming from somewhere inside.
    Ryan scurried along the kitchen floor, moving quickly around the middle island, trying to find it. He finally spotted it under the table, the light glowing from the plastic screen. He made a dive for it. When he had it in his hands, he managed to turn it off, but it was too late. Weaver was already at the door. He pounded hard against the