“I love you guys,” I say, my eyes burning.
***
The house is dark when I pull into the driveway and park. It’s after eight, so I doubt both girls are in bed. Maybe Emily is watching horror movies with Sophie and her friend Ariel.
There’s a bag on the front porch with my name on it in black Sharpie and the name of our local bakery stamped on the center of the brown paper. Inside, there are bagels, tubs of cream cheese and a container of fresh strawberries. I look around, but don’t really expect to see anyone on the street waving to let me know they left breakfast for us.
After they left dinner for us earlier. And yes, we did eat it, because it was delivered by the pizza restaurant and the driver promised it hadn’t been tampered with.
Maybe Sophie and Ariel ordered the bagels? Unlikely.
Nope. I have a feeling that whoever left this is the same person who raked the front yard and put the hose by the door. I was planning to just put the hose back where it was until Hailey explained I should leave it in the garage so the water in it doesn’t freeze and burst the hose.
Last year, I hadn’t even brought the hose out, so it hadn’t been an issue. It was only out this year because I tried to start a flower bed in the front yard.
It failed. I am not a gardener.
As much as I appreciate the outdoor assistance for the house, the breakfast actually creeps me out. It feels personal in a way the other actions didn’t.
Like maybe whoever left this knows we’re flying out tomorrow morning and won’t have time to make breakfast. I check the camera on our doorbell and see that another delivery driver dropped off the bagels and no one tampered with them after. So, we’ll eat these, too. Even if it is creepy.
I glance around the neighborhood one more time before I hurry inside.
I slip off my shoes, set the bag of bagels in the kitchen, put the cream cheeses in the fridge, and go in search of my sisters.
Sophie’s in the basement, curled on the couch with Ariel, watching a teenager run from a chainsaw-wielding killer. Emily’s not with them.
Deciding not to interrupt their movie, I head upstairs to let Emily know I’m home.
I almost don’t go into her room, because there’s no light shining out from under her door. She’s probably gone to sleep early. She did seem tired at the trunk-or-treat.
Walking past her room to my own, my stomach twists with unease. Emily never goes to bed early. No matter how exhausted she is.
It won’t hurt to peek in and make sure her bag is packed. Or maybe I just want to be sure she’s okay after the fight we had this afternoon. A fight I still feel horrible about.
Maybe I should have let her go to the party. I remember how important parties and friends were to me at her age.
But I also remember how much trouble can come from a party. It’s my job to keep her safe. Whether she likes it or not.
Even if she ends up hating me for the rest of her life.
I ease the door open as gently as I can and peer into the dark room. Not a sound. Not even the steady rhythm of her breathing.And her noise machine, which she always turns on to sleep, is off.
Still, she could have fallen asleep before she turned it on. Maybe she was watching something in bed on her tablet. My eyes adjust slowly to the darkness. Her room is lit only by the moonlight sneaking in between the slats of her closed blinds.
Her bed appears to be perfectly flat, with no telltale lump of her sleeping body.
I flip the light on, my heart pounding. The bed is empty, and Emily’s not curled up asleep on her beanbag or at her desk. I even check the closet, but Emily’s not in this room.
I suck in a deep breath. It’s okay. She’s probably just somewhere else in the house. None of her friends drive. There’s no way she’s gone to that party on her own.
I race through the rest of the dark house, flipping on every light as I go, but Emily’s not here. She’s actually gone.
Could she have run away? Is she out in the cold night, freezing and lost? Or maybe she hitchhiked to the party, and she’s trapped in a car with a serial killer, scared and... I shut down the thought. It’s too horrible even to consider.
Nearly blind with panic, I stumble down the stairs to the basement. “Sophie,” I shout. “Emily’s not here.”
Ariel screams in terror, and Sophie pauses the movie, which I only now realize was in the middle of a very tense scene probably leading up to a jump scare.
