more. Because the very thought of you tortured me for seven years. Because you were there torturing me. Even in my sleep. Even in my dreams.
Maybe tonight you’ll dream about my present to you. Maybe you’ll dream about cockroaches crawling up and down your body. Maybe in your sleep tonight you’ll feel the prickle of their feet against your skin, their dry bodies as they move over you, swarm over you . . . cover that cute little string bikini of yours, cover your arms, your legs, climb into your eyes, your mouth . . . choke you . . . smother you.
Soon you’ll be a playground for bugs and worms. Under the ground, in the dark, where the bugs and worms play.
Soon, Ellie. Soon.
22
A few mornings later—cloudy, gray, the ocean air heavy and wet—I dropped the kids with some friends on Noyac Road and then headed the Taurus toward town.
My tires splashed through deep puddles of rainwater. The trees on both sides of the road glistened and dripped. It must have rained hard during the night, but I hadn’t heard the storm.
I’d slept a deep, dreamless sleep. And when my alarm went off, I’d blinked my eyes open, confused. I didn’t know where I was.
Now I was on my way to Southampton to buy party supplies for Abby. She was having a small party—a barbecue if the weather cooperated—and she needed beer and wine, and paper plates, lemons and limes, and a long list of other items, which I had tucked safely in my bag.
Noyac Road bumped past woods and small frame and shingle houses set close to the road. I passed a homey-looking restaurant with a big sign that proclaimed ARMAND’S , then a pretty marina with small boats bobbing in the choppy, gray bay water.
I searched the radio for some lively music, something to wake me up, and I settled on Party 105: dance, dance, dance. I recognized Pink, singing a song from a couple of years ago— “Get the Party Started”—and I sang along with her at the top of my lungs.
The music cheered me up, and thinking about Teresa coming out made me eager for the weekend.
Oh, yeah. Get this party started, all right!
I was still in a good mood at the gourmet store on Main Street when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
I had a sudden heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach, a feeling of cold dread as I turned and stared at Mrs. Bricker.
So much for my good mood.
Her bony hand was still on my shoulder. She pulled it away slowly. She wore a blue-and-white flower-print dress, a little faded with age. She had the same scarf she’d been wearing last time tied loosely around her throat.
Her round face was heavily rouged, and as a smile formed on her scarlet lips, her cheeks appeared to crack and crumble.
“Ellie? I hoped I’d find you today.” Her voice was soft and smooth, a young woman’s voice.
Had she been coming to town every day hoping to run into me?
Leave me alone, you old freak!
No. Don’t do it, Ellie. You’re a polite, young woman. Especially to old people. Remember?
“Hi, Mrs. Bricker. Nice to see you,” I said.
She licked her heavily lipsticked lips. Her teeth were smeared with red. “You’re still working for the Harpers?”
I pulled two boxes of wheat crackers off the shelf and dropped them into my basket. “Yes, of course. It’s been only a few days.”
Her smile faded. Behind the thick-lensed glasses, her blue eyes were sharp and cold. “Did you think about what I told you?”
“Well, actually—”
She grabbed my arm so hard I nearly dropped the shopping basket. “I need to talk to you, Ellie. I didn’t get a chance the first time. You really need to hear—”
I raised my free hand, as if calling for a truce. “Please, Mrs. Bricker. I have so much shopping to do. I really can’t today.”
I tried to turn to the shelves, but her grip tightened. “You’re in danger, Ellie. I must speak to you. Now. It really can’t wait.”
My heart started to pound. What did I do to deserve this? Didn’t I have enough trouble back at the house?
“No,
Maybe tonight you’ll dream about my present to you. Maybe you’ll dream about cockroaches crawling up and down your body. Maybe in your sleep tonight you’ll feel the prickle of their feet against your skin, their dry bodies as they move over you, swarm over you . . . cover that cute little string bikini of yours, cover your arms, your legs, climb into your eyes, your mouth . . . choke you . . . smother you.
Soon you’ll be a playground for bugs and worms. Under the ground, in the dark, where the bugs and worms play.
Soon, Ellie. Soon.
22
A few mornings later—cloudy, gray, the ocean air heavy and wet—I dropped the kids with some friends on Noyac Road and then headed the Taurus toward town.
My tires splashed through deep puddles of rainwater. The trees on both sides of the road glistened and dripped. It must have rained hard during the night, but I hadn’t heard the storm.
I’d slept a deep, dreamless sleep. And when my alarm went off, I’d blinked my eyes open, confused. I didn’t know where I was.
Now I was on my way to Southampton to buy party supplies for Abby. She was having a small party—a barbecue if the weather cooperated—and she needed beer and wine, and paper plates, lemons and limes, and a long list of other items, which I had tucked safely in my bag.
Noyac Road bumped past woods and small frame and shingle houses set close to the road. I passed a homey-looking restaurant with a big sign that proclaimed ARMAND’S , then a pretty marina with small boats bobbing in the choppy, gray bay water.
I searched the radio for some lively music, something to wake me up, and I settled on Party 105: dance, dance, dance. I recognized Pink, singing a song from a couple of years ago— “Get the Party Started”—and I sang along with her at the top of my lungs.
The music cheered me up, and thinking about Teresa coming out made me eager for the weekend.
Oh, yeah. Get this party started, all right!
I was still in a good mood at the gourmet store on Main Street when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
I had a sudden heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach, a feeling of cold dread as I turned and stared at Mrs. Bricker.
So much for my good mood.
Her bony hand was still on my shoulder. She pulled it away slowly. She wore a blue-and-white flower-print dress, a little faded with age. She had the same scarf she’d been wearing last time tied loosely around her throat.
Her round face was heavily rouged, and as a smile formed on her scarlet lips, her cheeks appeared to crack and crumble.
“Ellie? I hoped I’d find you today.” Her voice was soft and smooth, a young woman’s voice.
Had she been coming to town every day hoping to run into me?
Leave me alone, you old freak!
No. Don’t do it, Ellie. You’re a polite, young woman. Especially to old people. Remember?
“Hi, Mrs. Bricker. Nice to see you,” I said.
She licked her heavily lipsticked lips. Her teeth were smeared with red. “You’re still working for the Harpers?”
I pulled two boxes of wheat crackers off the shelf and dropped them into my basket. “Yes, of course. It’s been only a few days.”
Her smile faded. Behind the thick-lensed glasses, her blue eyes were sharp and cold. “Did you think about what I told you?”
“Well, actually—”
She grabbed my arm so hard I nearly dropped the shopping basket. “I need to talk to you, Ellie. I didn’t get a chance the first time. You really need to hear—”
I raised my free hand, as if calling for a truce. “Please, Mrs. Bricker. I have so much shopping to do. I really can’t today.”
I tried to turn to the shelves, but her grip tightened. “You’re in danger, Ellie. I must speak to you. Now. It really can’t wait.”
My heart started to pound. What did I do to deserve this? Didn’t I have enough trouble back at the house?
“No,
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