Grace shivers; Izzy has left the door open, and the cold smashes into the room like a fist.

Melissa

“Slow down, Paul.” Melissa winces as the car lurches around a corner. They skid to a halt by a traffic light. There is a dull thump from the trunk. “We’ll have an accident.” She holds the dashboard as though braced for serious pain. “The road is icy.”

The car smells of alcohol; Paul has been drinking again. He knows he shouldn’t be driving, though she daren’t point it out. If she’d realized how intoxicated he was, she would never have gotten in the car. He moves forward before the light changes, wrenching the wheel to the left.

“I’m sick of being part of that crazy setup.” He takes another left. “We should get Izzy out of there as soon as we can. They’ve lost two kids; can’t you see that something weird is happening in that house?”

Izzy had insisted on staying; she refused to abandon her best friend. It can’t possibly be true that she’s in danger, that there’s some peril lurking at Eve’s, picking off children one by one. Ash drowned in a terrible accident, Sorrel is missing; separate tragedies. Melissa doesn’t reply; in this mood, he’ll argue with whatever she says.

“I’ve had enough of the police and their bloody questions.”

She glances at him, the flushed face and dilated pupils. He must have been at the wine all afternoon; a glass at his elbow while working, frequently replenished. He’d had more when he arrived at Eve’s. The alcohol has tipped him into paranoia; she’s seen it before.

“The police were simply doing their job.” She tries to speak soothingly though her voice trembles; when he’s drunk like this he takes it out on her later. “I was questioned, everyone was. It wasn’t just you.”

The Mercedes shudders to a halt by a pedestrian crossing, allowing two old men to walk across the road, but Paul steps on the accelerator when they are only halfway, and their terrified faces flash white in the headlights.

“If you hit someone on a crossing, it’s manslaughter.”

He doesn’t answer, he’ll probably punish her for that remark too. He turns into their road and speeds toward the house, his fingers clenched on the wheel. Melissa grips the edge of her seat, sweating in fear. The electronic gates swing open just in time and the car screeches in. The security lights flash on, lighting up her car on the forecourt, but it’s too late. The crash of metal against metal is deafening. Her body slams up against the seat belt.

“What a bloody stupid place to leave your car,” he yells. “You can fucking well pay for it.”

She gets out trembling. Thank God Izzy hadn’t been with them. The side of her car is badly dented and the windows are smashed, though his seems unscathed.

She reaches in the back for her bag as he slams his door and comes around the car toward her. She backs out quickly but he doesn’t give her long enough. He doesn’t see that the strap of her bag has become tangled with the seat belt. When he kicks the door shut, it catches the side of her face and her shoulder, knocking her to the ground. She lies quite still. Bright skewers of pain penetrate the darkness. Her tongue probes salty tatters of flesh in her mouth, though her teeth feel unbroken. She turns her head to watch Paul lurch into the house. She rolls on her side trying not to cry. Crying doesn’t make any difference, it simply makes you more tired. She gets up slowly. The world spins and she steadies herself by holding on to the car. After a while she follows Paul into the house and shuts the door behind her.