Howling at the Moon by Karen MacInerney

Author:Karen MacInerney [MacInerney, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror & Ghost Stories
Published: 2010-05-30T01:01:45.315000+00:00

20

I hung around just long enough to see the reveal. Stacy and Clinton were good, but they weren’t quite fairy godmother material. I guess there’s only so much you can do with fabric. After fixing myself a quick cup of tea, I kicked off my fluffy bunny slippers and slipped into a pair of dark jeans. It was only when I arrived at Brewster’s building that I realized I’d never figured out a good explanation for how I could open combination locks by ear.

“What took you so long?” Lindsey hissed as I closed the car door behind me.

“I got held up,” I said, a little embarrassed to tell her I’d wanted to watch the end of a reality show.

“Hot date?”

I snorted. “Hardly. Heath’s out of town on a deposition.”

As I crept up the front walk behind my voluptuous friend, she said, “I checked the window, and I think it’s still unlocked.”

I half hoped it wasn’t. Brewster’s office had a menacing air tonight; the dark windows looked like bottomless holes. The idea of returning home to my bunny slippers and another rerun of What Not to Wear was sounding better and better. “Which one was it?”

“That one,” she said, pointing at the big window to the right of the door.

“Well, then, let’s give it a try.” I glanced around warily. I had the uncomfortable sense of having eyes on my back, and I didn’t like it one bit. After a quick sniff and another glance over my shoulder, I bent down and tugged at the window. It didn’t budge. “Are you sure it’s unlocked?”

“It was fifteen minutes ago,” she said, flicking on a flashlight. My feeling of being watched intensified as she focused it on the lock. “Still is. Maybe they painted it shut.”

“Let’s try together,” I said.

I was beginning to think I would have a second session with my bunny slippers when the window shot up with a thud.

Lindsey reeled backward across the porch. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself?”

“I think I broke a nail.”

“A nail?” I said. “Sheesh. I thought you lost a finger.”

“Easy for you to say. You didn’t just drop fifty bucks on a manicure.”

As Lindsey examined her nail, I glanced around, looking for the source of my uneasiness. Who was watching me? Or was it just my imagination? “Lindsey. We’re about to commit an illegal act. Can we talk about your nail later?”

She said, looking up from her damaged nail. “Do you have any nail repair?”

“I didn’t think I’d need it. Now, let’s go.” A moment later, we clambered through the window into the front hall. I had hoped being inside would make me feel better, but if anything, the feeling of foreboding increased. I took a deep breath, and my hackles rose.

“There’s something different,” I said. “It smells funny in here.”

“Smells like dust to me,” she said, brushing off her skirt. Only Lindsey would wear a skirt to a break-in, I thought. At least it was black.

“These are for you, by the way,” she said, handing me a pair of orange rubber gloves.

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