Listen to the Shadows by Joan Hall Hovey Page B

actually walked around in here.
    Allen? After all this time? He was capable of breaking and entering, she knew that.
    Well, it was stupid to jump to conclusions until she talked to Jason. Katie continued on to the kitchen. Here, the air smelled of wood-smoke and of the apples Katie had picked a few weeks earlier. It was a large country kitchen, painted ivory, the trim a robin’s egg blue.
    The kitchen windows looked out on the grounds that sloped down to the road. Beyond the road were dense woods.
    The nights came early now. The stark branches whipped in the wind. Some of the trees nearer the house had lost their leaves. There were fallen leaves on the floor in her front hallway! About to turn from the window, Katie’s heart skipped as she thought she saw something move down by the big white pine near the path. She stood at the window for several minutes, her eyes fixed on the spot where she’d seen it, or imagined she had, but there was nothing. Just nerves, Katie thought, turning away. Or maybe a hungry raccoon, or a squirrel foraging for fallen pine cones.
    At the porcelain sink, she rinsed and dried the glasses, set them upturned on the counter. On either side of her was an ivory painted door. The one on her right led into a walk-in pantry, while the one on the left opened onto a narrow flight of steps descending into the cellar where the wood was kept. Thankfully, there was enough wood in the woodbox to last at least until tomorrow, Katie thought, reaching for another chunk and feeding it into the monstrous cast-iron wood stove that took up most of the back wall. It occurred to her she was hungry, but the thought of preparing something, or even eating it, would take far more energy than she had at the moment. Sleep was what she needed most right now. Hours and hours of sleep.
    She would face the world tomorrow.
    The wide stairs leading to the bedrooms rose through the center of the house. Gripping the handrail for support, the candle’s flame guiding her steps, Katie climbed the stairs on legs that felt weighted with lead chains. Once she stumbled slightly and realized that having had nothing to eat, together with all the wine she’d consumed, were taking their toll. Katie was halfway up the stairs before she noticed the same muddy tracks as in the parlor. Bending to examine them closer, she picked up what appeared to be a few pieces of straw. She shoved them into her dress pocket, refusing to give any of it another thought until she had a chance to talk to Jason.
    She thought instead about her car in the garage for repairs. The insurance would cover most of the cost, but in the meantime she was without a car. She would have to walk the mile and a half to the highway; from there she could catch a bus into town. Not a happy thought, what with the weather having turned so damned cold, but she didn’t have a whole lot of choices. She had to work. Well, no sense moaning about it. She supposed she should be grateful that the car wasn’t beyond repair, or she herself, when it came right down to it.
    As she stepped onto the landing, a cool draft brushed the fine hairs on her arms, and in the next second the candle went out, leaving Katie in inky blackness. Fear made her heart race, dried her lips.
    Get hold of yourself. There’s no reason to panic. You’re not a child; there is nothing to fear in the darkness.
    Reminding herself there was a lamp in the room, and matches with which to light it, she felt calmer. Katie continued down the hallway, feeling along the papered wall like a blind woman trying to negotiate her way in a stranger’s house. At last she was outside her room, her fingers closing around the cool porcelain knob. Pushing the door open, she stepped carefully across the threshold.
    Inside, she crossed to the dresser, relieved when her hand touched the glass base of the lamp. After fumbling briefly among familiar objects, she found the box of wooden matches. Striking one against the coarse strip on the side