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in case Emma had to use the bathroom during the night. She had a bad
moment at the doorway, imagining the things that lurked in the shadowy
corners. She wanted to stay in her room with the grinning Mickey.
Then Darren let out a yawling cry.
There was nothing in the corners, Emma told herself as she started down
the dark hallway. There was nothing there at all. No monsters, no
ghosts, no squishy or slithering things.
It was the Beatles playing now.
Emma wet her lips. Just the dark, just the dark, she told herself Her
eyes had adjusted to the dark by the time she'd reached Darren's door.
It was closed. That was wrong, too. His door was always left open so
he could be heard easily when awakened.
She reached out, then jumped as she thought she heard something move
behind her. Heart pumping, she turned to scan the dark hallway.
s.h.i.+fting shadows towered into nameless monsters, making sweat break out
on her brow and back.
Nothing there, nothing there, she told herself, and Darren was crying
his lungs out.
She turned the k.n.o.b and pushed the door open.
"Come together," Lennon sang. "Over me."
There were two men in the room. One was holding Darren, struggling to
keep him still while the baby screamed in fear and anger. The other had
something in his hand, something that the light from the giraffe lamp on
the dresser caused to glint.
"What are you doing?"
The man whirled at her voice. He wasn't a doctor, Emma thought
as she made out the needle in his hand. She recognized him, and knew he
wasn't a doctor. And Darren wasn't sick.
The other man swore, a short spurt of ugly words, while he fought to
keep Darren from wriggling out of his arms.
"Emma," the man she knew said in a calm, friendly voice. He smiled. It
was a false smile, an angry smile. She noted it, and that he still held
the needle as he stepped toward her. She turned and ran.
Behind her she heard Darren call out. "Ma!"
Sobbing, she raced down the hall. There were monsters, her panicked
mind taunted. There were monsters and things with snappy teeth in the
shadows. They were coming after her now.
He nearly caught the trailing edge of her nightgown. Swearing, he dove
for her. His hand skimmed over her ankle, slid off. She yelped as
though she'd been scalded. As she reached the top of the stairs, she
screamed for her father, shrieking his name over and over again.
Then her legs tangled. She tumbled down the flight of stairs.
In the kitchen, someone sat on the counter and ordered fifty pizzas.
Shaking her head, Bev checked the freezer for ice. No one used more ice
than Americans. As an afterthought, she dropped a cube in her warming
wine. When in Rome, she decided, then turned toward the door.
She met Brian on the threshold.
Grinning, he hooked an arm around her waist and gave her a long, lazy
kiss. "Hi."
"Hi." Still holding the wine, she linked her hands behind his neck.