“Mom’s ring,” Liam remembered. “You can get another, Kell—Mom had all kinds of jewelry.”

Kelly shook her head. “You don’t understand, Liam. That ring was special to Mom. As long as I had it, I felt safe. Like Mom was with me, my guardian angel. Always looking out for us.”

Liam leaned close against his sister, looked into her misty eyes.

“And now she’s gone,” Kelly said. “She’s gone forever.”

The fierce war within the walls died down. The room filled with silence, like air entering a balloon. And for the first time in years, Kelly and Liam shared the same bed, huddled close for protection.

Neither one slept.

11. The Story of Mary

11

THE STORY OF MARY

The next morning, they discovered that Doolin was gone.

“What do you mean, gone?” Mr. Finn asked. He gulped down a glass of orange juice while filling a Thermos with coffee.

“I’ve looked everywhere,” Liam said.

“You think she got out?”

“Dad,” Liam barked, frustrated. “I’m telling you she’s not here. It’s like she ran away or—”

Or something.

Could something have hurt Doolin? Liam’s mind turned to Bloody Mary and the mirror. Could she have taken his dog?

“We have to find her. I’m afraid something bad’s happened.”

Mr. Finn banged the counter with the edge of his palm. CRACK. He was a strong man and it was a loud noise. “Look, Liam, I don’t have time for this now,” he said. There was anger and frustration in his voice. “I’m sorry, but I’m late for work already.”

“But, Dad!”

Mr. Finn ran two tense hands through his hair, elbows raised to eye level. “Liam, please. Listen to me. I am having a hard, hard time at the new job. It’s not what I thought it would be. Not at all. The hours, the conditions, my boss…” His voice trailed off. “I cannot be late for work, Liam. It’s not an option, not with these people.”

Liam scowled at his father. He didn’t care.

“Doolin is a smart, old dog,” Mr. Finn said, trying to make it right. “If she got out, I’m sure she’s nosing around in the woods out back. Maybe she caught a scent and followed it. She’ll come back, I promise. It’ll be okay.”

“You can’t promise anything,” Liam said to his father, as cold and as hard as he could make the words sound. “Nothing is okay. I hate this house, and I hate you!” he shouted, and bounded up the stairs.

The front door slammed. The car revved up, pulled out of the driveway, and raced away, hurling small stones from the back tires.