“Hey,” Emily says, just as I say, “Shit!”

She laughs, sees my face, then goes serious. “Did you see anyone?”

I look behind me, trying to figure out what I saw, then grab Emily’s arm and pull her back toward the house.

“What are you doing?” she yells.

“Come inside,” I say, as quietly and calmly as I can.

But Emily shakes her head, takes a deep breath, and shouts, “Where are you, you prick? I’m here! I’m ready to play!”

I grab her arm again, but she pulls it away. I can see curtains twitching and porch lights coming on. Most of the neighbors weren’t here when Mom was murdered, but they know our history.

A man steps out of a house on the other side of the road and asks if we’re all right.

“We’re fine,” I say. “Thank you. She’s…a little drunk.”

The man nods but doesn’t close his door, just watches us as Emily looks back and forth, searching for something that isn’t there.

“Please,” I say. “Don’t do this now. The neighbors…”

But it’s more than that. I’m desperate to get back indoors. The night plays tricks on us all the time, but sometimes it’s not a trick, and the longer I stay here, the more anxious I feel.

Emily looks like she’s about to shout again when she catches my eye and stops.

“It’s not him, Jess. It’s some kid messing around…or a lonely old man with nothing better to do.”

That’s what I thought too. But the feeling on the back of my neck, the slow suffocation of a silent street at night, means I’m not so sure now.

“Jessica?”

Over my shoulder, I see Dad walking toward us, his face a mixture of confusion and concern. He still has his slippers on, and I remember Mom chiding him for treading dirt into the house.

“Inside shoes…outside shoes,” she would say, holding each in turn. But Mom’s rules have been forgotten now.

“It’s okay,” I say, touching Emily’s hand and leading her back to the house. “Everything’s fine.”

I say that even if everything isn’t fine, even if I have the strangest feeling that someone was outside after all.

Before I close the front door, I stand our gnome back up and hope it was Emily who knocked it over, not someone else.

Chapter 42

We don’t sleep much that night. Emily checks the window every hour, while the glow of Hanna’s phone doesn’t fade until I finally drift off around three.