I don’t have enough time to make it to the French doors, open them, and close them before she’ll come into the room.
Under the bed? The closet? Back to the bathroom?
Her footsteps thud at the top of the stairs.
“Goddamn it, Fidget. Kathy wants a scarf and sunglasses. Like anyone’s going to recognize her here. I have to get these people out of my house. This is crazy. Also, why are we eating dinner so early? It’s like five thirty.”
Fuck. Fidget is still gnawing on the treat I gave her.
“What do you have there?” Winnie demands.
Fidget swallows the last of her treat.
“That better not be one of those sticky bra things, Fidget. I will get another border collie, I swear to—”
Through the crack in the closet door, I see her pause. She senses someone watching her.
Her breathing gets more shallow as she hesitates, tiptoes up to the French doors, and throws them open. “I thought I locked these… Hello? Fidget, was someone in here?” She steels herself then grabs a fistful of the comforter to check under the bed.
My teeth dig into the skin over my knuckles.
She heads to the bathroom, pulling out her phone to check the cameras that I’ve been looping the feed over. “I shouldn’t put up a camera in my bedroom, right?” She sounds uncertain.
Fidget waddles over to the closet.
“And you’re not even going to help me look for the creepy stalker?”
I’m silently offended. I almost,almostwant to jump out of the closet and demand that she take that back.
“Maybe I should put up another camera,” Winnie chatters anxiously as she swipes through the app.
Fidget plops down, panting at the door to the closet. She smells the other treats I brought for her.
I will give you all the treats if you go anywhere else in the room,I try to silently communicate to the dog.
The cameras don’t show anything untoward, but then, they never do. Winnie’s not stupid.
I can’t even breathe as she glances at the closet door.
Just get the scarf and leave,I mouth.
“There isn’t anyone here.” She takes a step toward the closet door. “I’m being crazy, right?” She swallows. “Hello?”
In my pocket, my phone beeps with a message. I silently curse whichever brother is texting me.
“What the—” She looks down at her phone. “What was that?”
Outside, the car horn honks.
“Coming!” she yells and looks at the closet door.
I just clap a hand over my pocket and pray the phone doesn’t go off.
The front door opens.
“Winnie,” her grandmother hollers, “are you up there masturbating?”
“Oh my god, no!” Winnie hollers, throwing open the dresser drawer and grabbing a scarf then the sunglasses hanging on the mirror and racing out of the room.
