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Back When the Stars Go Dark Save as PDF
Chapters (83)
  1. Epigraph
  2. Maps
  3. (prologue)
  4. Part 1: Signs and Vapors
  5. (one)
  6. (two)
  7. (three)
  8. (four)
  9. (five)
  10. (six)
  11. (seven)
  12. (eight)
  13. (nine)
  14. (ten)
  15. (eleven)
  16. (twelve)
  17. Part 2: Secret Things
  18. (thirteen)
  19. (fourteen)
  20. (fifteen)
  21. (sixteen)
  22. (seventeen)
  23. (eighteen)
  24. (nineteen)
  25. (twenty)
  26. (twenty-one)
  27. (twenty-two)
  28. (twenty-three)
  29. (twenty-four)
  30. (twenty-five)
  31. (twenty-six)
  32. (twenty-seven)
  33. (twenty-eight)
  34. (twenty-nine)
  35. (thirty)
  36. (thirty-one)
  37. (thirty-two)
  38. (thirty-three)
  39. (thirty-four)
  40. (thirty-five)
  41. (thirty-six)
  42. (thirty-seven)
  43. (thirty-eight)
  44. (thirty-nine)
  45. Part 3: Time and the Maiden
  46. (forty)
  47. (forty-one)
  48. (forty-two)
  49. (forty-three)
  50. (forty-four)
  51. (forty-five)
  52. (forty-six)
  53. (forty-seven)
  54. (forty-eight)
  55. (forty-nine)
  56. (fifty)
  57. (fifty-one)
  58. (fifty-two)
  59. (fifty-three)
  60. Part 4: The Bent Grove
  61. (fifty-four)
  62. (fifty-five)
  63. (fifty-six)
  64. (fifty-seven)
  65. (fifty-eight)
  66. (fifty-nine)
  67. (sixty)
  68. (sixty-one)
  69. (sixty-two)
  70. (sixty-three)
  71. (sixty-four)
  72. (sixty-five)
  73. (sixty-six)
  74. (sixty-seven)
  75. (sixty-eight)
  76. (sixty-nine)
  77. (seventy)
  78. Dedication
  79. (acknowledgments)
  80. (author’s note)
  81. BY PAULA MCLAIN
  82. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  83. What’s next onyour reading list?

I got up and went into the kitchen and started making breakfast for us, but kept checking out the window every few minutes to see if someone was coming. The kids had cartoons on, turned up too loud. I felt anxious and distracted and kept thinking I heard someone coming down the hall outside. Finally, I went and checked there too, looking both ways along the corridor. That’s when I smelled the eggs burning. I had the gas turned up too high and the butter had blackened and begun to smoke. The second I realized what was happening, I shoved the pan off the heat with a skittering clatter, but the smoke alarm went off anyway, screaming and blinking in the middle of the kitchen ceiling. I couldn’t reach it, even with the chair. The sound was earsplitting and endless as my heart raced. Both kids started to cry and I was yelling at them to stop, but they only wailed harder. I couldn’t think. I didn’t know what to do. And then someone was pounding on the door, and I knew I’d made a terrible mistake. We should have only had cereal. Cereal and peanut butter.

The cops pushed into our living room, two of them, heavy and wide, scaring the kids with their uniforms and holstered guns, their strings of questions. When was the last time I’d seen my mom? What did she say before she left? Had she mentioned where she was going on Christmas Eve? Did I know how to contact my dad? Was there other family around? Mostly, I didn’t have answers for them. Jason and Amy were cuddled up next to me on the couch, pressing hard against my sides. I kept trying to tell the kids it was going to be okay, but I already knew it was far too late for that.

—

The Curtises live north of town on a secluded stretch of Lansing Street, high above Slaughterhouse Gulch. When we pull up to the security gate in Will’s cruiser, he pushes a button, and someone buzzes us through.

“It sure looks like a movie star lives here,” I say as the wiper blades rattle, sluicing back a thin film of rain.

“She’s not a movie star anymore. She stopped working as soon as they moved here four years ago.”

“What is she like?”

“Before all this, you mean? I don’t even know. The family hasn’t had anything to do with the rest of us. The husband commutes on a private plane. They have all their groceries delivered. I’m surprised they let Cameron go to public school instead of hiring a tutor or something. That must have been their one concession, a stab at real life.”

—