Page 137 of Their Little Ghost

The pit of dread in my stomach intensifies, unable to shake the feeling that something is wrong. Very wrong.

“Mom, he has her!” I announce, running into her bedroom, where Mom’s busy applying a fresh layer of anti-wrinkle cream. “He has Erin!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Dad’s got Erin,” I say, tripping on my words because I’m speaking so fast. “She was pretending to be me. Something bad has happened. We need to call the police. We have to look for her!”

“Your father’s in Washington, and Erin’s probably reading somewhere.” Mom shakes her head and stifles a yawn. “You’ve been drinking again, haven’t you? Your father won’t be happy if he finds out. Go to bed and sleep it off.”

“Erin’s not here. Her bed’s empty,” I say. “Check for yourself, if you don’t believe me.”

“Enough with your ridiculous stories!” She holds up a finger to silence me, then reaches for her sleeping pills. “Now, shoo! Not everything is about you, you know. Have you seen my crow’s feet lately? I need my beauty sleep.”

I sigh in exasperation and stomp out. It looks like I’m in this alone.

I return to Erin’s room and sit on her bed, surrounded by her childhood plushies. I watch the clock on her wall. The hands tick on; seconds stretch into minutes, then into an hour. I hit redial again and again. Still no answer.

Where could they go at four a.m.? Has he locked Erin in Sunnycrest? Guilt gnaws at my insides. Erin’s fragile. She’s not like me. Taking her to that godforsaken cell will traumatize her for life, and it’ll be my fault for manipulating her into switching places.

Suddenly, a noise downstairs draws my attention. I sneak out, pressing my back against the wall, and tiptoe down the stairs. I stay in the shadows, watching Dad slink in. Alone.

I fumble around for my phone and call Erin.

Ringing echoes through the hall, and I gasp as Dad fishes her cell phone out of his pocket. If he has it, where is she? Panic takes over, and I’m about to dial 911 when the phone slips from my sweaty fingers. It hits the wooden step with a bang, and the screen cracks, blowing my cover.

Dad whirls around. “Erin?”

I only have one chance to escape.

I make a break for the front door, but I’m too slow.

Dad’s surprisingly fast. He grabs my arm and yanks me back, almost dislocating my shoulder.

I wrestle to free myself, sinking my fingernails into his skin. “What did you do to her?”

“Sarah?” Dad’s jaw drops in horror. All the color drains from his face like he’s seen a ghost. “But you’re…” His mouth opens and closes like a bewildered fish. “Where’s Erin?”

“You tell me,” I snarl.

“I don’t understand,” he mutters. “You were at a party…”

“Erin went to the party instead of me,” I say. “Remember that game we used to play when we were little? We swapped places. All Erin wanted was to have fun for a change, instead of staying here like a fucking prisoner. Where is she?”

“No, no!” Dad wobbles on his feet. His eyes mist over, and his face crumples in devastation, like his entire world has collapsed. “Not my Erin…”

“What did you do?” I demand. “Where’s Erin, Dad? Did you hurt her?”

His pained, guilty expression says it all.

“It can’t be,” he murmurs. “No… it’s not possible… my Erin can’t be…”

I stagger back, fighting the urge to throw up.

“She’s dead, isn’t she?” I whisper, daring to voice my worst fears. “You killed her.”

Dad’s entire demeanor changes in a flash, from a broken man into a monster. A new menacing determination crosses his features. He lunges at me again, grabbing my jacket, and searing me with a stare full of pure hatred.

“This is your fault.” His lips curl into a vicious sneer. “I did nothing, it is you who killed her!”