She turns her head to gaze up at me. Wide eyes. Angelic. Haunting.

“We were waiting for you. We had to wait a long time.”

I let the words sink in. Each one is a bolt of lightning. Each one shocks me into disbelief.

“Waiting for me?” I ask now. “How did you know I would be there?”

My heart is wild in my chest and I pray that she can’t feel it as she pets my skin. I need to find out what she’s saying.

“We knew lots of things. We knew you were coming. And we knew about your daughter. I didn’t think you’d tell me but you did. You’re a very honest person.”

She leans her head into my chest. The hairs stand up on every inch of my skin as she continues to stroke my arms. To pet me like an animal.

“Oh!” I say. My voice trembles. “And here I thought you just happened to run into me.”

She giggles. “I know. That was just a little secret we kept. We waited for you, silly. We saw you running to the gas station and then stop and look around like you were confused and sad. And then you started to walk to town. Then I said ‘is that her?’ and he said ‘yes’ and I asked if we still had to run the truck into you, and he said ‘no’ and then we followed behind you with the lights off for a while, then we pulled up close and then we got you!”

I am standing. She is lying on the floor, stunned. I don’t know what happened in this instant, except that I could not stand to have her in my arms after those words left her mouth.

“What are you doing?” she asks as I walk out of the room. I hear her follow me, little feet running.

“I just have to get something,” I say. “From the kitchen. Some water . . .”

My voice shakes as I walk. She is right behind me. I have to get away from her. Away from this house.

They followed me. They took me. They knew I was coming.

I search the drawers.

“What are you looking for?” Alice asks.

I don’t answer. I find a pair of scissors. I take them, and a knife, from a butcher block. I fold them into a dish towel and then set them aside, hoping she doesn’t notice as I get a glass of water and drink it down. My throat is tight. My mouth bone dry as I try to swallow.

I look at her and focus now. I can do this. I can outsmart a nine-year-old girl.

“You know how you have allergies to the outside?” I ask.

She nods.

“Well, I have something similar. I have allergies to the insides of houses. I have to go outside every day for a few minutes or I start to get sick.”