Chapter 12: The Cottage

At half past midnight I texted Kirk: I'm going to the cottage.

His answer came back at once.

Not alone.

I'll be at the east gate, I wrote. If I'm not back in ten minutes, come in.

Ten minutes, he wrote. Not eleven.

I went down the back stairs in my socks with my shoes in my hand.

I waited in the potting shed with my back against the boards.

Twenty minutes later my father came out of the cottage.

He locked the door behind him with a key from his coat pocket.

He walked back toward the house with his shoulders bowed and an empty tray under his arm.

He did not look up once.

I waited until my pulse steadied.

Then I crossed the lawn.

The grass was soaked through my socks, and the clouds had covered the moon.

The shutters on the front of the cottage were closed.

On the side, by the kitchen, one shutter hung half open.

Yellow light fell across the flower bed in a long stripe.

I put my back against the wall.

My heart was going so hard it hurt.

I made myself turn and look.

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