Page 25 of Never Lie
Much like the bedroom upstairs, there’s no lock on the door to the office. That means I can’t even barricade myself in the room overnight. And there’s no way to contact Ethan and try to wake him up. My only comforting thought is that it seems like whoever is in this house doesn’t want to be found.
Then again, maybe they don’t want to be found byEthanbut would be less bothered being found by a smaller, less muscular person.
In any case, I’m not spending the night in this office. I rifle through the other drawers in the desk, looking for something I can use as a weapon. The first drawer is mostly filled with papers and the cassette tape I had stuffed inside earlier. The second drawer has more papers and a roll of duct tape. My father always claims there are a million uses for duct tape, but I don’t think it can be a weapon—I can’t imagine fashioning duct tape into a knife. The third drawer has more office supplies, including a pair of scissors that look pretty sharp. It’ll have to do.
Armed with the pair of scissors, I grab the doorknob and twist it. I keep the scissors in my right hand as I yank the door open. I’m ready to confront whoever is out there.
Except the living room outside the door is completely silent.
“Hello?” I call out.
No answer.
My hand holding the scissors is shaking. I take a few steps forward, squinting into the mostly dark living room. I spot a light switch and flip it on, my grip tightening on the scissors.
No. Still nobody.
My breathing slows. I don’t see anyone out here. No trace of movement anywhere. The living room is silent and empty. I don’t know what that sound was, but it could have come from upstairs. After all, thereisanother person in this house—Ethan.
But then my heart drops into my stomach.
The painting of Dr. Adrienne Hale. The one that Ethan took down and placed facing away from us. It’s back on the wall. And Dr. Hale’s green eyes are boring into me.
Chapter 15
It takes all my self-restraint to keep from screaming.
I could have accepted that we imagined the light in the window, or that it was some optical illusion. I could even have reluctantly accepted that Judy might have purchased some white bread and bologna for the refrigerator. But that portrait…
Ethan took it down. I saw him take it down. It wasn’t on the wall when we went to bed. And now it is.
Still gripping the scissors, I race up the spiral stairs so fast that I nearly trip and topple down. Thankfully, I regain my balance and make it the rest of the way to the bedroom. I fling open the door to the master bedroom, where Ethan is still sound asleep.
I close the door behind me, looking around for something to wedge under the doorknob. There’s a trunk in the corner of the room that looks sort of heavy. I can shift it over so that it blocks the door. It won’t stop anyone from coming in here, but it will slow them down.
Ethan is stirring in the bed from all the noise I’m making. He rubs his eyes. “Tricia?”
“There’s someone downstairs.” I can’t keep the panic out of my voice. “Somebody in the living room.”
Ethan sits up in bed, his eyes suddenly wide open. “You saw someone down there?”
“Well, no. But I heard a noise.”
He groans. “Christ, Tricia. All this over a noise? It was probably the house settling.”
“It was not the goddamn house settling! It was acrash.”
He still doesn’t seem perturbed. “So it was some snow sliding off the roof. I mean, I can think of a million things that could make a noise like that.” He inhales sharply at the sight of the scissors in my hand. “What the hell are you doing with those?”
“There’s an intruder in the house!”
“Yeah, but…” He rubs his eyes again. “What do you think? That somebody is burglarizing us during a blizzard in the middle of nowhere?”
“Maybe somebody was squatting here. And they’re still here in the house somewhere.”
“Maybe…”
Of course, that doesn’t explain what I saw downstairs. The painting was moved. Why would a squatter do that?
