“It will work. I rewired yours exactly like mine.”

“I’m not usually in the thick of this stuff,” Marla said. “I come in afterward with hugs and Band-Aids. If this were a movie, I’d be the lame babysitter, not the action hero.” There was a hint of bitterness in her voice, and Carlton looked at her, surprised.

“Carlton, the road!”

He snapped his attention back to what he was doing and gave the wheel a controlled jerk.

“Marla, I’ve seen you in the thick of this stuff—remember Freddy’s?”

She gave a halfhearted nod.

“And don’t dismiss the power of hugs and Band-Aids,” he added, slowing the car as the restaurant’s sign came into view: CIRCUS BABY’S PIZZA blazed out over the night, casting half the block in garish red light. “Can’t miss this,” Carlton remarked as they pulled into the parking lot. As soon as they were past the neon sign, its brilliant, witchy light faded into the background: the lot was stark and bare.

“No one’s here. Are you sure about this?” Marla said urgently.

“No, but I know what I saw.” Carlton drove slowly toward the entrance, pointing toward the clown girl mascot leaning over the entryway sign. “And that is who attacked me.”

They parked close to the building. Carlton stopped to rummage around in the trunk for a minute, coming up with two small flashlights. He flicked one on and off experimentally, then handed it to Marla.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

They started around the side of the building and Carlton swept his light along the wall, illuminating a row of tall, rectangular windows. The window surfaces were tinted so dark they could not see in, and the frames were smooth black metal, with nowhere to force an opening. Carlton shook his head, and gestured toward the back of the building. Marla nodded, gripping her flashlight like a lifeline.

There was more parking behind the building, and the back wall was lined with trash cans, two Dumpsters sticking out on either side of a metal door. The only light came from a single, flickering orange bulb, set above the plain door like a decoration.

“Looks like this is our way in,” Carlton whispered.

“Look.” Marla shone her light down onto fresh prints in the mud, tracking close to the wall and leading up to the door. “Jessica?” Marla looked to Carlton.

“Maybe.”

Marla grabbed the door handle and pulled hard, but it didn’t budge.

“I don’t think we’ll find another way in,” she whispered, and he grinned.

“You think I didn’t come prepared?” Carlton said, slipping a flat leather case from his pocket. He held it out to her. “Hold this,” he said, and selected several thin strips of metal as she balanced the case for him.

“Are those lockpicks?” Marla hissed.