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remembered the first day they’d found the house. Toria had gone missing, and then her footsteps had seemed to clomp on for a lot longer than they should have.
    â€œLet’s . . . uh . . . ” He tried to think of something else. If he heard footsteps now, he would drop over dead. “Let’s see what else we got in the kitchen.”
    â€œThere’s a lotta s’ghetti,” Toria said.
    â€œGreat.”
    They walked hand in hand toward the kitchen, David focusing on the lighted room ahead of them. He was sure, sure he would see shadows moving on the second floor if he looked.

CHAPTER
    six
    T UESDAY, 8.30 P.M
    â€œThat’s not what we agreed,” Taksidian told the man standing in front of him. They stood in the parking lot of the cabin-sized building that acted as Pinedale’s sheriff ’s office and jail. “All of them out of the house. That’s what I wanted.”
    He rubbed his sharp nails over the scar on the back of his hand. It was all he could do to keep from wringing the man’s neck.
    Sheriff Bartlett pushed his fingers up under his hat to scratch his head. The light from a streetlamp cast itself on the man’s displeased features. He said, “What we got here, Mr. Taksidian, is a favor that went awry. You spoke to the mayor, who suggested we take immediate action to remove that family from the house. But, sir, those aren’t the proper channels. If those kids were really in danger, we got procedures . There’s a child services office over in—”
    â€œI know,” Taksidian said. He brushed his long, kinky hair from his face: he knew his gaunt features, thin lips and unflinching eyes were intimidating, and he wanted the the man to get a clear view of them. “That takes days, even weeks, especially considering the father’s position at the school.”
    The sheriff nodded. “They did a thorough background check before he was hired. The man has an impeccable record. No complaints, no—”
    â€œSheriff Bartlett,” Taksidian said with a heavy sigh. “I’m interested only in the children’s safety.” An image of their freshly covered graves flashed in his head, and he resisted smiling. “I’m sure once they are out of the house and the proper authorities have an opportunity to investigate, they will find evidence of child endangerment. If not from the parents, then from the house itself.”
    â€œThe house?” the sheriff said, a puzzled look crossing his face.
    â€œI mean, of course, from the condition of the house,” Taksidian said. “It’s not fit to live in.”
    â€œLook, sir,” the sheriff said, puffing out his chest. “I was willing to accommodate a request from the mayor, since it didn’t seem like such a big deal . . . with the possibility that you’re right about the dangers and all. But those kids didn’t want to come, and physically removing them—Well, that’s a whole ’nother matter. That’s a line I won’t cross, not without a warrant, sir, no way. The only reason we got the father in there”—he hitched a thumb at the jail—“is he accosted one of my deputies. And quite frankly, I don’t blame him. Unless you can get child services down here fast, I can’t hold him.”
    Taksidian pointed a gnarled finger at the man’s face. He said, “Listen, the mayor—”
    A phone chirped.
    Taksidian tightened his lips and gave the sheriff his most piercing glare. Keeping his finger up, he removed a mobile phone from his pocket and flicked it open. “What?”
    A child’s voice said, “Uh . . . is this Mr. Taksidian?”
    â€œWhat do you want?”
    â€œA friend of mine . . . from school . . . he gave me your number. You stopped him and his friends on their way home. He said you were asking about that old house outside of town. The haunted one?”
    Taksidian turned from