eyes, looking up at her through the shattered wood of the loft door. Her wrist still burned where the man had held her; and when she had washed up for bed, she had carefully studied the bright red half-moons where his grimy fingernails had dug into her skin. The cut from the splinter still hurt, too, but she and Lisa had secretly washed and bandaged it up without anyone finding out.
Most frightening of all, though, was when Angie thought about that steely grip. It didn’t feel like it was around her wrist; she couldn’t get rid of the sensation that those bony fingers were closing around her throat, cutting off her air and making her pulse hammer in her ears.
i
She stirred, rolled over onto her side facing the wall, and groaned when her father sat down on the edge of his bed, making the bedsprings creak. He took off one shoe and let it drop to the floor.
Like soft hammering! Angie thought, and a surge of panic almost made her cry out.
He took off the other shoe and let it drop; then he got up and went into the guest bathroom down the hallway.
The whole time he was gone, Angie lay, staring wide-eyed at the blank wall no more than a foot from her face. Her father left the door open a crack, and the light from the hallway cast her rounded shadow on the wall. Then the door opened, and she saw another shadow loom up over her own. Again, she almost cried out in fear. The shadow looked too large, too slouch-shouldered, too misshapen to be her father! It got bigger and bigger as it came toward her bed.
A sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead as she gripped the sheets into tight-fisted balls. The shadow grew larger as the slow, steady thumping of its tread got closer and closer !
Angie tried to keep the thought out of her mind, but all she could think of was that, with a sudden, inhuman grunt, the shadow would suddenly materialize and come crushing down on her. Its bony fingers would reach for and find her neck, and then slowly… painfully crush her throat to pulp.
“Dad?” she whispered, her voice a gravelly gasp.
“Sorry, Angie,” her father said softly. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” The bedroom door eased shut again, and the room darkened.
Angie frantically wished she could get enough air into her lungs and enough courage so she could tell her father about what had happened out at the barn. She knew she should tell him about it, but then again, she and Lisa hadn’t been hurt and maybe Lisa was right. They should keep quiet about it and make sure they never went to the old barn again!
She stirred and rolled onto her back, smacking her lips and muttering a string of senseless words, pretending to talk in her sleep.
Her father came over to her bed and placed his hand lightly on her shoulder. “Are you awake?” he said, so softly she could barely hear him even at this close range.
She snuggled down into her pillow and again smacked her lips, wondering if she was laying it on too thick. As much as she wanted to say something, as much as she wished she could just fall apart and cry on his shoulder, she forced herself to keep her eyes shut and to feign sleep.
Lisa was right, she decided after all. Just forget all about what happened out there at the barn. Keep the secret of Lisa’s “secret place”! But that didn’t stop the nightmares that came later, once she fell asleep.
Chapter Three
“Some Unanswered Questions”
I
A t six-thirty on Sunday morning, Kellerman’s Cafe had all the smells and warmth that only a small-town, working-class greasy spoon can have. Over the snap and sizzle of frying eggs and bacon, and the shouting of orders to Herbie, the cook, and requests for coffee refills, the steady drone of conversation was reassuring to Dale that even in the face of death, life did go on. He found that, ever since Natalie’s death, he took to noticing such reassurances.
Between the much-too-soft mattress, the sounds of Angie’s disturbed sleep, and thinking about his awkward
Most frightening of all, though, was when Angie thought about that steely grip. It didn’t feel like it was around her wrist; she couldn’t get rid of the sensation that those bony fingers were closing around her throat, cutting off her air and making her pulse hammer in her ears.
i
She stirred, rolled over onto her side facing the wall, and groaned when her father sat down on the edge of his bed, making the bedsprings creak. He took off one shoe and let it drop to the floor.
Like soft hammering! Angie thought, and a surge of panic almost made her cry out.
He took off the other shoe and let it drop; then he got up and went into the guest bathroom down the hallway.
The whole time he was gone, Angie lay, staring wide-eyed at the blank wall no more than a foot from her face. Her father left the door open a crack, and the light from the hallway cast her rounded shadow on the wall. Then the door opened, and she saw another shadow loom up over her own. Again, she almost cried out in fear. The shadow looked too large, too slouch-shouldered, too misshapen to be her father! It got bigger and bigger as it came toward her bed.
A sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead as she gripped the sheets into tight-fisted balls. The shadow grew larger as the slow, steady thumping of its tread got closer and closer !
Angie tried to keep the thought out of her mind, but all she could think of was that, with a sudden, inhuman grunt, the shadow would suddenly materialize and come crushing down on her. Its bony fingers would reach for and find her neck, and then slowly… painfully crush her throat to pulp.
“Dad?” she whispered, her voice a gravelly gasp.
“Sorry, Angie,” her father said softly. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” The bedroom door eased shut again, and the room darkened.
Angie frantically wished she could get enough air into her lungs and enough courage so she could tell her father about what had happened out at the barn. She knew she should tell him about it, but then again, she and Lisa hadn’t been hurt and maybe Lisa was right. They should keep quiet about it and make sure they never went to the old barn again!
She stirred and rolled onto her back, smacking her lips and muttering a string of senseless words, pretending to talk in her sleep.
Her father came over to her bed and placed his hand lightly on her shoulder. “Are you awake?” he said, so softly she could barely hear him even at this close range.
She snuggled down into her pillow and again smacked her lips, wondering if she was laying it on too thick. As much as she wanted to say something, as much as she wished she could just fall apart and cry on his shoulder, she forced herself to keep her eyes shut and to feign sleep.
Lisa was right, she decided after all. Just forget all about what happened out there at the barn. Keep the secret of Lisa’s “secret place”! But that didn’t stop the nightmares that came later, once she fell asleep.
Chapter Three
“Some Unanswered Questions”
I
A t six-thirty on Sunday morning, Kellerman’s Cafe had all the smells and warmth that only a small-town, working-class greasy spoon can have. Over the snap and sizzle of frying eggs and bacon, and the shouting of orders to Herbie, the cook, and requests for coffee refills, the steady drone of conversation was reassuring to Dale that even in the face of death, life did go on. He found that, ever since Natalie’s death, he took to noticing such reassurances.
Between the much-too-soft mattress, the sounds of Angie’s disturbed sleep, and thinking about his awkward
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