“We can use my coat, and I’ll lift you,” he said as he threw the truck into reverse. Just as he was cranking his steering wheel to pull back out onto the rural highway so that we could drive to a point at which the wall was lower than it was near the gate, the gate creaked as it opened inward.

“Look! She let us in!” I exclaimed—although I didn’t know if it was Violet or Mischa who had opened the gate from inside the house.

Henry slammed on the gas and we barreled down the private drive, under the canopy of tall trees that had made me feel as if I were entering another world the first time I’d visited this place. When we reached the fountain and roundabout parking area in front of the house, Henry parked haphazardly and we both leapt out of the truck in unison. I took notice of a dark green Mini Cooper parked next to the fountain and assumed it was Violet’s; she’d recently turned seventeen, and it was easy to believe her parents would buy her a brand-new car.

“Do you think she’s going to answer the door?” Henry asked as we ran up the steps.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe we should get inside another way.” I grabbed the handle and pushed down the lever to see if the door would open, very afraid of what we were about to walk into, but the door was locked. My finger hesitated before I pressed the doorbell. There was a possibility that Mischa had killed Violet, and we were going to cross the threshold into a crime scene. In that scenario, there was also a possibility that Mischa was planning on killing the two of us the moment we stepped inside too. I was sure Violet’s house had a heavy video surveillance system. It was a possibility that either she or Mischa was already watching us standing there on the doorstep as we deliberated what to do.

Just then, Henry startled. I followed his eyes to the big living room picture window on our left. We both saw just a flash of the curtains moving, and a quick glimpse of Mischa watching us before she vanished from view.

I unleashed my fists on the front door and pounded with all my might. “Mischa, let us in! Open this door!”

But when the door didn’t open within the next few seconds, Henry and I realized in unison that we were going to have to somehow break in.

“The sunroom doors,” I said. “Around the back.”

Without waiting for him to reply, I dashed down the stairs, intending to sprint around the side of the house, but then stopped so fast in my tracks when I heard the door behind me creak open that I almost fell over.

“Inside.” It was Mischa who had answered the door, and she was positioned strangely, her body contorted inside the house so as to poke only her head through the doorway as she leaned back to greet us.