And there were interruptions. A call from Grace, a call from Daniel, both wanting to know the details of being questioned by the police. Rose didn’t feel like talking about it to either of them. Grace’s reactions just seemed too silly now. And she felt unsure about Daniel, probably unfairly. But maybe it wasn’t a good idea to tell anyone anything anymore. Nobody could really understand.

If Daniel sensed her backing off, he was cool about it. “Call you tonight?” he said, but it wasn’t really a question.

She had just got back to her room when the phone rang again. She decided to ignore it, but Mom shouted up the stairs for her to answer.

There was a lot of noise on the line; then a faraway little kid’s voice said, “Can you come out to play?”

“What?”

“Come out to play with me.”

“Wrong number, kid,” Rose said impatiently and hung up.

“Was that Jerram?” Mom called. “Just look at this storm. He should get himself home.”

“No, it wasn’t Jerram,” Rose replied. She went back to her room to doggedly try again to reach Nancy. But she knew it wouldn’t work. Maybe if she fell asleep and had a dream? But she didn’t feel like sleeping. She gave up and went down to the kitchen and stuck a frozen taco in the microwave. While it nuked, she paced the kitchen. People who knew what to do. Detective O’Hara would want to call them, make her talk to them.

“What a case of jitters you’ve got,” Mom said, coming up from the basement with a basket of laundry. “If you have so much nervous energy, go down and fold some wash for me.”

Rose ate the taco and folded wash, then put in two more loads. The phone rang again, and she picked up the basement extension, half hoping it would be Daniel. Sweet distraction. But it was the same kid. “Come out to play,” he pleaded.

“Look, you have the wrong number. Ask your mommy to dial your friend’s number for you, okay?”

There was a moment of crackly silence.

“Do you understand? Ask your mommy,” she repeated.

Laughter. Not little kid laughter. “My mommy’s dead.”

She slammed the phone down.

Just a prank. But the child’s voice had sounded so real. Using a child to make obscene calls was too creepy. Who would be sick enough to do that?

A shadow loomed suddenly against the basement wall, and she whirled around. “Jerram! You startled me.”

“You were in another world. I said hello at least three times.”

“Where’ve you been? Mom’s been worrying,” she said, crossly.

“At the library.” He sauntered down the stairs and opened the dryer and began folding laundry with her. “Reading up on serial killers.”

“What the hell for?” she snapped.

“Find out whatever I can about the way this guy might operate,” he answered mildly.