“Well, you’re not alone. Caroline has a tattoo she wants to get rid of. She went through an artsy phase in college.”
This is a nice thing to say, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. I’m sure Caroline’s tattoo is extremely tasteful. It’s probably a rose, or a crescent moon, or a meaningful Chinese character—not some freakish googly-eyed monster. I ask Ted where she’s hiding it but I’m interrupted by another loud crack.
We both turn toward the forest.
“Someone’s out there,” I tell him. “I heard them walking around earlier.”
“Probably a rabbit,” he says.
There’s another crack and then a quick panicked thrashing, the sound of a small animal darting across a forest.
“That was a rabbit. But earlier, before you came out, the noise was louder. It sounded like a person.”
“Maybe it was teenagers. I’m sure these woods are popular with high school kids.”
“It’s worse at night. Sometimes I’m lying in my bed and it sounds like they’re right outside my window.”
“Probably doesn’t help for Mitzi to fill your head with strange stories.” He winks. “Caroline told me about your encounter.”
“She’s an interesting person.”
“I’d steer clear of her, Mallory. All this business about so-called energy readings? Strangers parking in her driveway, knocking on her back door? Paying in cash? It feels shady to me. I don’t trust her.”
I sense that Ted hasn’t spent much time in the company of psychics. Growing up, I had a neighbor, Mrs. Guber, who read tarot cards in the back of the local pizzeria. She was legendary for predicting that one of the waitresses would win $100,000 on a scratch-off ticket. She also consulted on marriage proposals, adulterous boyfriends, and other affairs of the heart. My friends and I called her The Oracle, and we trusted her more than the front page of the Inquirer.
But I don’t expect Ted to understand any of this. The guy won’t even acknowledge the existence of the tooth fairy. A few nights ago, Teddy spat up a loose molar, and Ted just reached into his billfold and pulled out a dollar—no mystery, no fanfare, no late-night tiptoeing into the bedroom to avoid detection.
“She’s harmless.”
“I think she’s dealing,” Ted says. “I can’t prove it, but I’m watching her. You need to be careful around her, okay?”
I raise my right hand. “Scout’s honor.”
“I’m serious, Mallory.”
“I know. And I appreciate it. I’ll be careful.”
I’m opening the gate to the pool, ready to leave, when I realize Caroline is walking across the yard, still dressed in her work clothes, carrying her notebook and a pencil. “Mallory, wait. Did you get a phone call yesterday? From Teddy’s school?”
Immediately, I realize I’ve messed up. I remember the call, and I remember writing the principal’s number on a slip of paper. But then Teddy walked into the kitchen with his weird drawing, and I must have been distracted.
“Yes—the principal,” I tell her. “I have the message in my cottage. It’s probably still in my shorts. I’ll go get it—”
Caroline shakes her head. “It’s fine. She just emailed me. But I could have used the message yesterday.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“If we miss a single deadline, Teddy will lose his spot. The kindergarten class has a waitlist with thirty names on it.”
“I know, I know—”
She cuts me off. “Stop saying ‘I know.’ If you really knew, you would have given me the message. Next time be more careful.”
She turns and walks back to the house, and I’m shocked. It’s the first time she’s really yelled at me. Ted hurries out of the pool and rests a hand on my shoulder. “Listen, don’t worry about it.”
“I’m sorry, Ted, I feel awful.”
“She’s mad at the school, not you. They’re drowning us in paperwork. Vaccines, allergies, behavioral profiles—this stupid kindergarten application has more pages than my tax return.”
“It was an honest mistake,” I tell him. “I wrote down the phone number, but I was distracted by something Teddy gave me.” I’m so desperate to make things right, I start describing the drawing to him, but Ted just talks over me. He seems anxious to get back to the house. I can see Caroline’s silhouette in the sliding glass door, watching us.
“She’ll cool off, don’t worry,” he says. “Tomorrow she won’t even remember.”
His voice is relaxed but he walks away in a hurry. As he crosses the yard, his form flattens into a silhouette—and when he reaches Caroline, he puts his arms around her. She reaches for the light switch, and after that I can’t see anything else.
A little breeze kicks up and I start to shiver. I wrap my towel around my waist and walk back to my cottage. I lock the door and I’m changing into my pajamas when I hear the footfalls again, light steps treading on soft grass—only this time, they’re right outside my window. I pull back the curtains and try to peek outside but all I see through the screen are the slimy wriggling moths.
A deer, I tell myself. It’s just a deer.
I close the curtains and turn off the lights and get into bed, pulling the blankets up to my chin. Outside, the thing moves right behind my bed—I can hear it moving on the other side of the wall, inspecting the cottage, circling the perimeter, like it’s searching for a way inside. I curl my fingers into a fist and bang on the wall, hoping a good loud noise will spook it away.
Instead, it ducks under the cottage, scratching at the dirt, squeezing itself beneath the floorboards. I don’t know how anything can fit down there. The building can’t be more than eighteen inches off the ground. There’s no way it’s a deer but it sounds big, like it’s the size of a deer. I sit up in bed and stomp on the floor to no avail.
The thing just burrows deeper and deeper, wriggling itself into the center of the room. I stand up and turn on the lights. Then I climb down on all fours and listen, trying to follow the noise. I pull back the rug and discover a square outline cut into the floorboards—an access panel large enough for a person to crawl through. There are no hinges or handles, just two oval-shaped slots allowing someone to grab hold of the panel and lift.