Who Are You? (9780307823533) Read Online Free PDF Page A

us shook me up.”
    “Are you too nervous to drive home through River Oaks, instead of down Westpark?” Lindy asks. “Maybe we can see the house where Douglas Merson lives. Want to?”
    “Yes,” I answer quickly, surprised at my eagerness. I can feel the pressure of excitement in my chest. I wonder why I didn’t think of this myself.
    “Can you find the house?” Lindy asks. “Do you have Douglas Merson’s address?”
    “I know what it looks like, from the newspaper photo, and that it’s on a street called Buffalo Bayou Lane.” I pull up to a stoplight at Kirby and Alabama and tug the map book out from under the seat. As I hand it to Lindy I ask, “Look it up for me, will you? You can give me directions.”
    In just a few minutes Lindy says, “We’re on Kirby, so when we get to Inwood, turn left. Keep going a little way past River Oaks Boulevard. Buffalo Bayou Lane comes in on the right and winds to the north. Hey! It’s right next to the bayou itself.”
    “Which is why, boys and girls, the street’s named Buffalo Bayou Lane. Surprise!” I say.
    “Very funny,” Lindy answers. “I don’t think I’d want to live next to one of the bayous. All the bayous in Houston are muddy and yucky and full of snakes.” She scratches her chin. “My dad says property along the bayous is more valuable because the bayous offer more privacy. But I think there’s another reason—guard snakes, to keep burglars from sneaking up on back doors.”
    “Guard snakes?” I laugh. “Now I’ve heard everything.”
    “I’m serious,” Lindy says. “If you were a burglar,would you want to go squishing through a bayou with poisonous snakes in it?”
    “What about hanging boa constrictors in the trees?”
    “Sure. They could be imported.”
    Lindy keeps going on about guard snakes, and soon we’re both laughing. I know that Lindy’s trying to keep me from worrying about what’s happened. Mom and Dad think of Lindy as an airhead because she had to be tutored through algebra II, but I know she’s sharp where it really counts.
    It doesn’t take long to get to Buffalo Bayou Lane. I turn right and follow the narrow road that winds among the trees. The homes are far apart and set back from the street. We pass a French chateau, a huge stone house that looks like an English castle, and a plantation home right out of a
Gone With the Wind
movie set. At the curve, where Buffalo Bayou makes a sharp bend, we suddenly come upon Douglas Merson’s house—very modern and stark white.
    Lindy sucks in her breath. “Wow!” she says. “That’s where he lives? Really?”
    “Really,” I answer. The yellow strips of crime tape have been taken away. Nothing should spoil the beauty of this setting.
    But something did spoil it. Attempted murder.
    Without planning to, I find myself steering the car up the long drive toward the house.
    “Hey!” Lindy whispers, and she stiffens. “What are you doing?”
    “Somebody must be inside,” I tell her. “It’s a big house. I’m sure Mr. Merson doesn’t live there alone.”
    “But if his wife comes to the door, what will you say?”
    “They said he isn’t married. Whoever answers the door will probably be someone who works for him.”
    “Wow!” Lindy says again. “A butler, maybe? Like in British films? I’ve never seen a real live butler.”
    I park next to the steps to the front door and slowly get out of the car. I’ve made a mistake. I should jump back in the car and quickly drive away. But Lindy is following my example. She’s out of the car, ready for what I’m going to do next.
    I can’t run. I have to finish what I started. I get the weird feeling that someone inside the house is watching me.
    Gulping down my fear, I take one step at a time, climb the brick steps, and ring the doorbell.
    I don’t have time to catch my breath before the door opens wide. I was right. Someone was there.

C HAPTER F IVE
    T he man who stands in the doorway reminds me of the background figures