Page 122 of Wicked Games

Eli, Liam, and Theo echoed my concern. But they’re at hockey practice, so Riley and I are here alone.

No one answers the door.

“So… you ever going to tell me what happened with your social worker?” she asks.

I grimace. “She wants me to see a therapist. I guess this kind of transition can be delicate, or whatever. The Bryans didn’t think it was a terrible idea, so we scheduled an appointment for after Christmas. Also, I’m going in.”

Into the house, I mean.

“Margo—”

The door is unlocked. I pause with it open a crack, expecting sirens. Nothing. A huge place like this doesn’t have a security system?

We creep into the foyer. Riley follows close behind me, almost touching my back. When no one comes running, we both straighten.

“That was a little anticlimactic,” she murmurs. “Plus, a therapist? You can’t just say that and then walk into someone else’s house. It kind of proves that you do need one.”

“Caleb is in here. I can feel it.”

“I’ll stand lookout, I guess. You search for him.” She shivers. “I’m picturing him tied up somewhere. Is that awful?”

I elbow her. “Don’t even think that.”

Eli saunters in through the open door, and both of us jump.

“What are you doing here?” Riley whisper-yells.

He rolls his eyes. “Have you met David Asher? He’s terrifying. You guys should not be breaking into his house.”

Our eyes go wide, and he laughs.

“Kidding. I meant, you shouldn’t be breaking inalone. Which is why I’m here. I moved your car, too, by the way. You should never park in the driveway to burgle.”

Well. He does have a point.

“I’m still keeping lookout,” Riley tells us.

She stays in the foyer. Eli and I split up. I take the first floor, and Eli jogs up the stairs to the second floor. The house is giant, I’ll just say that. There are rooms upon rooms, each more extravagant than the last. But more than that, they’reold. Antique furniture and dark wood on the walls. Rugs that have probably never been stepped on, chairs and couches that’ve never had kids bounce on them.

It’s cold. Worse than Caleb’s house. Winter is upon us, and it feels like the heat has been shut off.

I find an office-looking room, with a chessboard on the floor. The pieces are scattered across a thick rug. I shiver and keep moving.

I get to a closed door and pause in front of it. Up until now, everything has been open. I hesitate for a fraction of a second.

A low moan comes from the other side.

I shove the door open and go still at the darkness inside. After a moment of feeling along the wall, my fingers hit the light switch.

Blinding lights flicker on in the ceiling.

My gaze flies around, searching for the threat. It’s a game room with a pinball machine, a pool table, and other various games, but only one person in it.

Caleb.

He’s on the floor, his back against the wall. Like he was sitting and then fell over. His eyes are closed.

There’s blood on the wall. Just a smear, but enough that my heart hammers.

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