I don’t tell her about the sign he made, or how he explained it afterward.A killer whose only purpose is to kill.
More silence. Not just on the phone. In the house. I think he really is gone.
“He also—” I swallow. “He kissed me. And I kissed him back.”
“What the fuck?” Penelope shrieks. “He broke into your house, and you just made out with him?”
“It’s complicated!” I shout back, although I really don’t want to get into the details of my sexual preferences right now. “What the hell should I do? I don’t want to call the police.”
“Yeah, fuck that.” Penelope takes another deep breath. “I’m gonna get Callie, okay? Are you sure this guy’s not gonna hurt you?” She pauses. “Do you even know his name?”
“Theo,” I say. “Theo Shorn.”
Penelope mutters the name to herself. I step out into the hallway, peering into the dark. The house certainlyfeelsempty.
“Okay, here’s what I want you to do,” Penelope says. “You sure he’s not going to hurt you?”
No, I’m not, but I still say, “Reasonably sure, yeah.”
Penelope sighs at that. “I’m guessing your grandparents didn’t leave you a gun along with the house?”
“No, of course not.”
“You should fix that. Anyway, see if he’s still… around. I’m going to get Callie on the line, and I want you to make him talk to her.” I can hear the edge of panic in Penelope’s voice, and I can’t say I blame her. But while I do feel scared—my heart fluttering, my palms clammy—I wouldn’t say I’mpanicked. I really don’t think he’s going to kill me. I mean, he hasn’t killed Oliver.
“I’m going downstairs now,” I say.
“I’m pulling Callie onto the call,” Penelope says. “I’ll just be gone for one second.”
The phone clicks over. I step into the hallway, switching the lights on as I go, until I’m in the living room. The curtains on the picture window are pushed open, revealing the lake. The back door is shut, though.
Shut, but the lock is broken.
“I’m back,” Penelope says breathlessly. “Callie’s here, too.”
“Hello.”
Callie’s voice sends a little chill over my skin, the way it always does.
“Is he with you?” Callie asks. “Theo Shorn?”
“I don’t see him.” I press my face closer to the glass, trying to get a view of the lake. I don’t want to turn the light off, even though I know it’s stupid. It just makes me feel safer. “I’m going to go outside, okay?”
“Be careful,” Penelope says. Callie doesn’t say anything.
I push the door open and step out onto the porch, flicking on the light. The night feels like velvet on my skin as I tilt the phone away from my mouth and call out, “Hello?” I definitely don’t sound certain of myself.
The wind seems to swallow up my voice, and I strain for some sign of him: footsteps or a soft rush of breath. Anything. All I hear is the lapping of the lake.
“Theo?” I try again. “I, um, I was hoping maybe we could talk?”
“Anything?” Penelope says.
“No.”
“Just because you don’t see him doesn’t mean he isn’t there,” Callie says coolly. “I know the name. Theo Shorn. The little ghost story he hides behind.”
My stomach twists around. The little ghost story that I bought into until he stepped into my bedroom. I realize now I was only buying into it because I didn’t want the alternative to be true.
