“They wanted to rush over, but I put them off. I told them I’d be here with you.”

“Thanks. I’ll call Mom later.”

Corrine and I finish our dinner. Well, I did the best I could to force a few mouthfuls down. She wanted me to go back to her place for the night, but I didn’t want to. I walked with her through the house, checking that all the doors were locked and lights on. Sadie stuck right by my side. Finally, Corrine left, and I set myself up on the sofa with my computer on my lap, flipping screens, monitoring the house.

The doorbell rings, and I go back to the porch feed. A young woman with long dark hair is standing there with a cameraman next to her. She leans on the doorbell again, and Sadie runs down the hall to see who’s there.

I don’t move. Maybe she’ll go away.

“Mrs. Bradley?” I hear through the door. More bell ringing. “Mrs. Bradley? It’s Ashlyn Davis from Channel 2 News. May I speak with you for a minute?”

Go the fuck away. Please. I say under my breath. Please. Please. Please.

“Mrs. Bradley?”

I watch her take a couple of steps back. Then she walks toward the living room window, leans, and shades her eyes. I go cold, sitting still as a statue, and pray she can’t see me. Eventually, she leaves, and I can breathe again. I set my laptop on the coffee table, pull the throw over me, and burrow into the sofa.

* * *

My phone jolts me awake. It’s dark outside, and I must’ve dozed off. The clock on the mantel says one-thirty a.m. Who would be calling at this hour? Sadie jumps up from where she’s been lying on the floor next to me.

“Hello?”

“Melinda Wright?” I shiver. Another reporter? But then the voice continues, muffled, the same caller from before.

“I know who you are, Melinda Wright. The girl in the cellar. I heard they found a dead woman near your house. You better take care, Melinda. You escaped once—”

I throw my phone on the floor, jump up from the sofa, and run for the laundry room. Sadie trots after me, and I close us both inside the room. I slide down onto the floor. Sadie lies next to me, and I sob, my hand on her bristly back.

CHAPTER 36 - Rita

CHAPTER 36

Rita