He places his palms on the kitchen table and pushes himself to his feet. “I’m going to head over to the car and get my laptop so I can do some work. Do you want me to get anything for you?”

My stomach sinks. “You’re leaving me here?”

“Just for like fifteen minutes.”

It won’t be fifteen minutes. It took us almost fifteen minutes to walk from the car to the house last night in all that snow. “I want to go with you.”

“Absolutely not. Tricia, you’re pregnant. And you have wholly inadequate footwear.”

I suppose he’s got a point. It wouldn’t be right to make him carry me piggyback to the car and back. Of course, I could borrow a pair of Dr. Hale’s boots. We do seem to be the same size…

No. I’m not doing that.

“Fine,” I grumble. “But you promise you’ll hurry back?”

“I’ll be back before you can say ‘dream house.’”

I am not saying “dream house.”

I clear our plates away, while Ethan goes over to the front door, where he left his coat and boots. I watch him shove his feet into his black boots, suppressing the urge to cling to his leg and beg him not to leave me here. Then again, in the light of day, the house isn’t nearly as frightening. And when I see the portrait on the floor, facing away from me, it seemed impossible that it was up on the wall last night. It seems more like some sort of crazy dream.

Ethan blows me a kiss from the front door, then he stuffs his beanie onto his blond hair, and then he’s gone. And I’m all alone.

I take a few slow, deep breaths, trying not to panic. I wish there were a television in this house so I could zone out in front of a screen, but I haven’t been able to find one in all my travels. I guess Dr. Hale didn’t have a television. What sort of psychopath doesn’t own a television in this century?

It only makes me want to learn more about her. And of course, my thoughts immediately go back to the cassette tapes.

Ethan won’t make it back from the car for at least half an hour. That will give me time to listen to at least part of a couple more tapes. I’m dying to know what happened in the session after the one I just listened to. Why did she agree to take that man back? Dr. Adrienne Hale does not strike me as a pushover.

Before I can second-guess myself, I hurry to the bookcase in the back. I don’t even hesitate before I locate The Shining and tug on the spine. I hear that now familiar click and I slip inside the room, grabbing the cord to turn on the light.