sat on, silent and still, as I waited for more
information. Dad wanted her to go to bed
immediately, which was easy enough to see from the
way he kissed her neck. But she was deep in thought.
Her eyes were fixed on her silver sandals as she spoke
of how Clover had died.
"It couldn't have been Bart," she said slowly, as
if to convince herself as well as Dad. "It had to be
some sadist who tortures animals--you know how we
read that the animals in the zoo were being crippled?
One of them must have seen Clover," and her voice died away, for so seldom did we ever see a stranger
on our road.
"Chris," she added, while that horrible look of
fright was still on her face, "today Bart took me
completely by surprise. He told me about
a little boy
who was locked in closets and in the attic. Later on he
told me that little boy's name was Malcolm. Could he
know about him? Who could have told him that
name? Chris, do you think somehow Bart has found
out about us?"
I jerked. What was there to know about them
that I didn't already know? I knew they had some
terrible secret. I crawled away, then raced to my room
and threw myself on my bed. Something awful was
wrong with our lives, I felt it in my bones--and Bart
must have sensed it in his too.
The Snake
.
Sun and fog were playing games, keeping each