THE NOISE OUTSIDE, a snap from behind the house, brought back an old fear. That she was being watched. Not like at the mall or the beach. She wasn’t afraid of leering kids or perverts. (That was irritating or flattering—depending, naturally, on the kid or the perv.) No, what terrified Kelley Morgan was some thing staring at her from outside the window of her bedroom. Snap… A second sound. Sitting at the desk in her room, Kelley felt a shivering so sudden and intense that her skin stung. Her fingers were frozen, pausing above the computer keyboard. Look, she told herself. Then: No, don’t. Finally: Jesus, you’re seventeen. Get over it! Kelley forced herself to turn around and risk a peek out the window. She saw gray sky above green and brown plants and rocks and sand. Nobody. And no-thing. Forget about it. The girl, physique slim and brunette hair dense, would be a senior in high school next fall. She had a driver’s license. She’d surfed Maverick Beach. She was going skydiving on her eighteenth birthday with her boyfriend. No, Kelley Morgan didn’t spook easily. But she had one intense fear. Windows. The terror was from when she was a little girl, maybe nine or ten and living in this same house. Her mother read all these overpriced home design magazines and thought curtains were totally out and would mess up the clean lines of their modern house. Not a big deal, really, except that Kelley had seen some stupid TV show about the Abominable Snowman or some monster like that. It showed this CG animation of the creature as it walked up to a cabin and peered through the window, scaring the hell out of the people in bed. Didn’t matter that it was cheesy computer graphics, or that she knew there wasn’t any such thing in real life. That was all it took, one TV show. For years afterward, Kelley would lie in bed, sweating, head covered by her blanket, afraid to look for fear of what she’d see. Afraid not to, for fear she’d have no warning of it—whatever it was—climbing through the window. Ghosts, zombies, vampires and werewolves didn’t exist, she told herself. But all she’d need to do was read a Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight book and, bang, the fear would come back. And Stephen King? Forget about it. Now, older and not putting up with as much of her parents’ weirdness as she used to, she’d gone to Home Depot and bought curtains for her room and installed them herself. Screw her mother’s taste in décor. Kelley kept the curtains drawn at night. But they were open at the moment, it being daytime, with pale light and a cool summer breeze wafting in. Then another snap outside. Was it closer? That image of the effing creature from the TV show just never went away, and neither did the fear it injected into her veins. The yeti, the Abominable Snowman, at her window, staring, staring. A churning now gripped her in the belly, like the time she’d tried that liquid fast then gone back to solid foods. Snap…. She risked another peek. The blank window yawned at her. Enough! She returned to her computer, reading some comments on the OurWorld social networking site about that poor girl from Stevenson High, Tammy, who’d been attacked last night—Jesus, thrown into a trunk and left to drown. Raped or at least molested, everybody was saying. Most of the postings were sympathetic. But some were cruel and those totally pissed Kelley off. She was staring at one now. Okay Tammy’s going to be all right and thank God. But I have to say one thing. IMHO, she brought it on herself. she has GOT to learn not to walk around like a slutcat from the eighties with the eyeliner and where does she get those dresses? she KNOWS what the guys are thinking, what did she expect???? —AnonGurl Kelley banged out a response. OMG, how can you say that? She was almost killed. And anybody who says a woman ASKS to be raped is a mindless l00ser. u should be ashamed!!! —BellaKelley She wondered if the original poster would reply, hitting back. Leaning toward the computer, Kelley heard yet another noise outside. “That’s it,” she said aloud. She rose, but didn’t go to the window. Instead she walked out of her room and into the kitchen, peeking outside. Didn’t see anything…or did she? Was there a shadow in the canyon behind the shrubs at the back of the property. None of her family was home, her parents working, her brother at practice. Laughing uneasily to herself: It was less scary for her to go outside and meet a hulking pervert face-to-face than to see him looking into her window. Kelley glanced at the magnetic knife rack. The blades were totally sharp. Debated. But she left the weapons where they were. Instead she held her iPhone up to her ear and walked outside. “Hi, Ginny, yeah, I heard something outside. I’m just going to go see.” The conversation was pretend, but he—or it—wouldn’t know that. “No, I’ll keep talking. Just in case there’s some asshole out there.” Talking loud. The door opened onto the side yard. She headed toward the back, then, approaching the corner, she slowed. Finally she stepped tentatively into the backyard. Empty. At the end of the property, beyond a thick bar rier of plants, the ground dropped away steeply into county land—a shallow canyon filled with brush and some jogging trails. “So, how’s it going? Yeah…yeah? Sweet. Way sweet.” Okay. Don’t overdo it, she thought. Your acting sucks. Kelley eased to the row of foliage and peered through it into the canyon. She thought she saw someone moving away from the house. Then, not too far away, she saw some kid in sweats on a bike, taking one of the trails that was a shortcut between Pacific Grove and Monterey. He turned left and vanished behind a hill. Kelley put the phone away. She started to return to the house when she noticed something out of place in the back planting beds. A little dot of color. Red. She walked over to it and picked up the flower petal. A rose. Kelley let the crescent flutter back to the ground. She returned to the house. A pause, looking back. No one, no animals. Not a single Abominable Snowman or werewolf. She stepped inside. And froze, gasping. In front of her, ten feet away, a human silhouette was approaching, features indistinct because of the backlighting from the living room. “Who—?” The figure stopped. A laugh. “Jesus, Kel. You are so freaked. You look…gimme your phone. I want a picture.” Her brother, Ricky, reached for her iPhone. “Get out!” Kelley said, grimacing and twisting away from his outstretched hand. “Thought you had practice.” “Needed my sweats. Hey, you hear about that girl in the trunk? She goes to Stevenson.” “Yeah, I’ve seen her. Tammy Foster.” “She hot?” The lanky sixteen-year-old, with a mop of brown hair that matched her own, headed for the refrigerator and grabbed a power drink. “Ricky, you’re so gross.” “Uh-huh. So? Is she?” Oh, she hated brothers. “When you leave, lock the door.” Ricky screwed his face into a huge frown. “Why? Who’d wanna molest you?” “Lock it!” “Like, okay.” She shot him a dark look, which he missed completely. Kelley continued to her room and sat down at the computer again. Yep, AnonGurl had posted an attack on Kelley for defending Tammy Foster. Okay, bitch, you’re going down. I am gonna own you so bad. Kelley Morgan began to type.