Nothing about this place feels like it should. Most of all, my aunt and uncle themselves are complete strangers to me. I didn’t even know who they were at first when they showed up in court. As grateful as I am for their help, it’s obvious that my daughter isn’t happy here. Her recent, snappy letter proved that.

I’d mailed out dozens of letters, all of which had gone unanswered until I’d received her short reply.

Considering how eerie and isolated it is out here, I can see why she hates it. This isn’t at all what I expected. What other surprises are in store for me? I wondered, overcome with a sense of foreboding.

Steadily, I gripped my suitcase and approached the house.

I must get my daughter back, at all costs, and take her home to Chicago.

Chapter Two

The house looked out of place: this dark, Victorian monster in the middle of a desolated cornfield … almost like it had been picked up from some ancient era and dropped from the heavens above. I couldn’t shake the thought that it didn’t belong. But who was I kidding? I don’t belong here, either. And neither does my daughter.

The once-white paint was peeling now, and I fought the urge to pluck a strip and peel it all the way back as I rapped my knuckles on the old screen door.

Breathless, I held on to my suitcase, fingers white and achy with nerves. I waited. Then waited some more. A flutter of excitement at seeing Gemma and anxiety at facing my relatives raced through me, making my stomach twist and curl noisily as the minutes ticked by. Like an obscene version of ‘the butterflies’ I couldn’t get rid of… For a moment, I almost wished I’d taken an extra dose of my anti-anxiety medication on the way here. But the doctor’s voice reverberated in my head: It’s important that you take your meds as prescribed. Even though these are non-narcotic, make sure you follow the dose and don’t over-medicate.

I drummed my fingers on the screen door, waiting.

When no one came, that flutter turned to something else—what if I’d come to the wrong place? What if I’m stuck out here, this house straight out of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre movie, with no ride to get me back into town? Where is Gemma?

I moved to the dusty front window and cupped my hands around my face, squinting to see in.

There was no one inside as far as I could tell, but I was relieved to see the house was better kept on the inside than the out, and there were no chainsaw-wielding weirdos.