Hush by Eva Konstantopoulos

Hush by Eva Konstantopoulos

Author:Eva Konstantopoulos [Konstantopoulos, Eva]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781468502923
Publisher: AuthorHouse
Published: 2011-12-13T05:00:00+00:00


8

It doesn’t take long to reach the den, but when I do the room is empty. On the table, Beth’s walkie lies on its side. The computer plays her fake sound effects on a loop, the whispering of little girls over and over again. I survey the room, listening deeply, but can’t make out any other sounds except my feet on the hard wood floor. “Beth? Mrs. Green?”

I try to shut off the whispering loop, but the voices won’t mute. Finally, I just pull the plug. In the silence, I breathe deeply, stepping back, and unexpectedly bump into Mrs. Green. She’s carrying a glass of water and it slips from her hands, crashing on the floor. The glass shatters.

“Oh, dear,” she says, her face flushed. Slowly, she bends down, her knees creaking, and picks up the pieces.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “Let me.” She stands over me awkwardly as I gather the glass shards. “Where’s Beth?” I ask.

“Beth?” Mrs. Green says absent-mindedly.

“Yes, my partner. The one at the computer?”

“Oh.” Mrs. Green looks around. “She was here a minute ago. I was bringing her some water.”

“Okay…” I say. “And she called 9-1-1. Right?”

“9-1-1?”

“Yes. Elliot needs help. Did she call?”

“Oh no. Is your friend that hurt?”

I stare at Mrs. Green, my frustration mounting. “He fell through the floor,” I reply.

Mrs. Green blinks at me. “Your friend will be back,” she says. “I saw her with Manuel. Yes, I saw her with the phone. I remember now. I’m sure she called.”

Mrs. Green’s breathing is labored as she shuffles along. Something doesn’t add up. Why would Beth not be in the room? She always does what Jackson says. If Jackson told her to stay in the den, she would have stayed in the den. So, where is she? I walk into the next room, calling out Beth’s name, but no one answers.

Out the window, I see that Mrs. Green is now outside. She’s talking to Manuel, who doesn’t look too concerned. Mrs. Green sees me watching and smiles. She slowly trudges to the house. I step away from the window.

In the deserted kitchen I pick up the phone, clicking the receiver. Once. Twice. But there’s no dial tone. I slam down the phone right as Mrs. Green appears in the doorway. “Manuel’s still working, but he hasn’t seen her. Maybe she stepped out?”

“Stepped out where?” I ask. “And the phone’s dead. Are you sure you got through?”

Mrs. Green shakes her head. “Yes. We just called 9-1-1.”

“Who just called? Beth? You didn’t say that before.”

“My dear, you’re all red,” Mrs. Green replies. “Do you want to sit down? Maybe Manuel can help.”

With mounting frustration, I watch Mrs. Green totter to the back door again. She doesn’t even look at me. “Manuel always knows what to do.” She talks under her breath, her shaking hand fumbling with the door handle.

There’s no time for this, I think. No time. With that familiar dread coursing through me, I turn away from Mrs. Green, taking off down the hall.

I’m breathing hard when I reach the hole to the basement.



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