Down the Rabbit Hole Read Online Free PDF

opening her mouth to say something else—probably some follow-up question—when the phone rang.
    â€œCarol Levin,” Mom said. She listened for a moment and said, “That’s under agreement, but I’ve got something very similar on Overland Drive. In fact, there’s an open house scheduled this—”
    Ingrid stopped listening. Her gaze was pulled right back to the paper, as though The Echo had developed some powerful force field. A suffocating feeling tightened in her chest. She read the whole article, way too fast to absorb much but powerless to slow herself down. Two sentences popped out at her, one in the middle: “Ms. Kovac had lived alone in the house at 341 Packer Street for many years.” And the very last one: “Anyone who saw or spoke to the victim within the last few days or anyone with other helpful information is asked to call the Echo Falls police.”
    Ingrid felt strange, cold all over her body but light-headed, as though she were burning up withfever. She glanced at her mother. Mom was talking about the new septic regulations, a spiel Ingrid had heard so often by now, she practically knew it by heart. She turned back to the picture of Cracked-Up Katie. It was a good-quality photograph, especially for The Echo . The eyes seemed to be looking right at you, like they were sizing you up.
    Ingrid read that last sentence again. Call the Echo Falls police? And say what? Please don’t tell my parents, but I was hanging out with Cracked-Up Katie after school. And how would that even help? What possible useful information could she have? Absolutely none, zip, zero, nada.
    Except.
    Except for that footstep overhead in a house where Cracked-Up Katie had lived alone for many years. Meaning: Who was up there?
    â€œIngrid? Did you not hear me?”
    Ingrid looked up. Mom was off the phone.
    â€œWhat?” Ingrid said.
    â€œAre you all right?” Mom said, those vertical lines on her forehead deepening. “You look pale.”
    Mom had feelers for how she was feeling. “I’m fine,” Ingrid said.
    â€œThen better bundle up.”
    â€œBundle up?”
    â€œFriday night,” Mom said. “Football. Sure you’re all right?”
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    The Red Raiders Boosters Club, of which Mom was secretary and Dad, who’d played for the Red Raiders—star quarterback and team captain—was past president, threw a tailgate party, nonalcoholic of course, at every home game. Ingrid’s job was grilling burgers, which meant making sure they didn’t burn and saying things like: “yes,” when asked by high school kids if she was Ty’s sister, and “did they have football back then?” when told by old people that Dad had been a big football star in his day. Old people didn’t seem to laugh often, but when they did, they loved it, kind of surprising themselves by how much, Ingrid thought. That didn’t include Grampy, who didn’t really fit the category and never came to football games. “Had it up to here,” he said. He said that about a lot of things.
    The parking lot filled up and Ingrid got busy, burgers arranged in a careful system on the grill at first, and soon not. Beyond the near goalpost, she could see the teams stretching, the Red Raiders in red, the visitors in white with green trim. She spotted Ty,number 19, the only freshman on the varsity, off by himself, bouncing up and down. Ty could run. Running ran in the family. Ingrid was starting to think about that when smoke rose up from the grill, reminding her at once of Cracked-Up Katie lighting up. Was everything going to remind her of Cracked-Up Katie from now on?
    Stacy came over. “What’s a flea-flicker?”
    â€œNo idea,” Ingrid said. “Why?”
    â€œThe other team’s going to try a flea-flicker on the very first play,” Stacy said. “I heard their coaches talking about it.”
    â€œWant a burger?”