ELLERY QUEEN MYSTERY MAGAZINE Page 17

  It was so quiet now in the closet that Ellie heard the DS as it shut down.

  "Whadda you care?" David asked.

  "You can't just leave her in there."

  "Whadda you care?" David said again.

  There was some muffled moving around. Then the DS started up again.

  Brad had it now; Ellie could tell the difference at once because Brad chortled and crowed whenever he scored points, while David was as silent as he played as he was when he did everything else.

  "I care," Brad said after a few minutes, "'cause I got a sister myself."

  "So?" David said.

  "And my mom sometimes makes me babysit her and she's only four and she's a real pain. She always wants something to eat, and she always asks me to play with her."

  "I said, so?" A pause. "Lemme have it."

  "Not yet, hold on." The bleep of the stupid game. "So—you've given me a great idea."

  "Yeah?"

  "Yeah. And whadda you think is gonna happen if you never let your sister out? Your mom's gonna find out and you'll get in trouble. People'll look for her. Everyone will find out. Right? You know?" Some more bleeps. "I got it! Oh yeah, I never got to this level before."

  Ellie knew what would happen now. David would reach for the game. He wouldn't say anything, there'd be no noise whatsoever except for the sounds the DS made, and then David would finish Brad's level, and maybe the one after that.

  It gave her a few minutes.

  Ellie's fingers squeezed the body of the lamp. The metal grew slippery in her grasp, and she wiped blood off blindly.

  You got the splinter out, a small voice said. It wasn't her mom's anymore. You can do this too.

  Faintly, Ellie could make out Brad's voice, wheedling, badgering. Finally David muttered, "Of course I'm gonna let her out, dumb-ass. Soon as I finish this level."

  For the first time since she'd been getting locked in the closet, Ellie pushed herself backwards, into the swallowing blackness. On her bottom, still holding onto the lamp.

  When the door finally opened, Ellie had to slam her eyes shut against the sudden explosion of light. She wriggled back a little more, behind the dangling coats, the carpet muffling any sound she might've made.

  "Where is she?" Brad.

  A pause.

  "Holy crap, I told you she wasn't in here anymore."

  "Shut up."

  Silence then, only silence and darkness back there in the depths, despite the light from the door. Ellie had gotten herself in pretty deep. The closet was even bigger than she'd imagined.

  "Told you," Brad said again.

  "Shut up, of course she's in here," David said. "She can't get out, I locked the door."

  "Yeah?" Brad said. There was that funny sound in his voice again. "Well, don't let it lock on us."

  Ellie's eyes had adjusted by now, and she could make out David, twisting around, feeling for the knob on the outside of the closet door. She could hear the tiny click the lock made as it turned from down to horizontal.

  "There," he said. "Now it can't lock."

  But Brad took a step backwards into the room anyway.

  "You better go in," he said. "If she really can't have gotten out, she's gotta be in there."

  "Ding, ding, ding," David muttered. "We got ourselves an Einstein."

  Ellie bought herself another inch of space.

  "Ellie." David's voice was as rough as a strap. "Get out here."

  She cringed in the darkness. She held onto the lamp like she used to hold onto her mother's skirt.

  "Go on," Brad said again. He sounded very far away. "You scared?"

  "Who's the one standing out there?" David replied. And then he entered the closet.

  Ellie lifted the lamp into the air. She was surprised at how heavy it was.

  "Ellie," David said, louder than she'd ever heard him. "You better get out here or you're not gonna like what happens."

  Ellie forced herself not to say a word, not to let out a single cry.

  "It'll be worse than the closet, that's for sure."

  Fear sliced through her, and after that everything happened very fast. David walked a few more paces in, close enough for Ellie to hear the rasp of his jeans, to smell his breath, sour from whatever he'd been eating. She'd had nothing to eat since lunchtime at school.

  He bumped against something—a carton that had once held an appliance—and ducked to shove it out of his way.

  Ellie brought the lamp back, up over her shoulder, sure that David would detect the motion and grab it out of her hands.

  But he didn't seem to see a thing.

  "Okay, that's it," David said. "If you're really not in here, I'm going out. Brad and I'll go over to his house. And Ellie?"

  A pause, while Ellie fought not to jump up, tell David she was right here, fall on top of him, and give him the lamp.

  "Mom's not coming home tonight." And he started to turn.

  Ellie brought the lamp down with a hysterical screech. She didn't know where on David's body the lamp hit him, she only knew that it did. She could feel the solid weight of metal slamming against something, making the lamp vibrate so hard she felt it in her teeth.

  And she heard David—who seldom raised his voice above a whisper, not even when their dad had walked out for the last time, telling David it was all his fault—scream.

  Ellie raced out of the closet, stepping on some part of her brother so that she almost tripped, then righting herself and pushing past Brad, who was still standing by the couch, staring stupidly in her direction.

  She ran up to her room and contemplated hiding in her closet. She did get down under her bed for a minute or two. But no one came upstairs, and Ellie crawled out. For a while she just stood there, listening for noises down below, but not hearing much.

  It was getting dark; it must be late. This really had been the longest time ever. David had kept her locked up until almost dinner. Their mom was going to be mad that the meal wasn't on the table, wasn't even near to being prepared.

  Finally the front door opened and closed; then there was quiet again.

  "Elizabeth!" her mother called.

  Ellie went downstairs, heart thudding.

  Their mother was crouched before David, who was sitting on a kitchen chair, cradling his arm. Their mom's gaze flew up to Ellie.

  "I have to go back to the hospital," she said, an unsteady stitch in her voice. "I'm taking David over."

  Ellie waited to be accused.

  "You'd better get your coat," their mother went on.

  "Why?" Ellie asked. She didn't dare look at her brother.

  "Well, you can't stay alone," their mom said, still squatting on the floor. David's long legs were splayed out around her.

  "No," Ellie replied, finally meeting David's gaze. "I mean, why? What happened?"

  She looked out at the living room. It had been cleaned up. The closet door was shut.

  "Your brother was wrestling," their mother said, standing up. "With Brad after school." She gave a short, hard jerk of her head. "I think he broke his arm."

  David was as silent as ever while the doctor poked and prodded his arm, positioned it for X-rays, then set it. There were no chairs in the tiny, curtained-off space, so Ellie had to sit on the waxy tile floor, staring at a streak that might've been blood.

  "Now will you learn?" their mother said as she helped David off the bed. "You're supposed to be watching your sister anyway. No roughhousing." She glanced back at the doctor and gave him a smile that flushed her cheeks. "Thanks, Ron."

  The next day after school, Ellie waited for David to exact his revenge. But he never came near her. It was hard for him to write—the arm Ellie had broken was his right one—and he seemed to labor over his homework, muffling grunts of frustration, bright green cast lying uselessly in his lap.

  Ellie took it upon herself to prepare dinner. That was usually David's job—he often did it while she was in the closet; she'd strain to hear the noises that meant at least one of these secon
ds, minutes, hours, their mother would be returning home—but she could make macaroni and cheese from a box. She could tear up lettuce.

  There was still time left before their mother was due back, and Ellie wanted to stay far away from David. Eventually he'd finish struggling with his homework, or else give it a herky-jerky, left-handed throw aside. Then there'd be nothing left for him to do.

  She trudged upstairs.

  It was getting dark. The light in David's room was off, but across the strip of lawn, Brad's had been turned on. Ellie wondered why he hadn't come over today. She turned and looked back over her shoulder, making sure David wasn't on his way up to play spy with his best friend. But all was quiet downstairs.

  Ellie took a step into David's room.

  His blanket was in a twist, hanging off the bed. The clothes he'd tried on earlier—two shirts whose sleeves he couldn't get over his cast—lay on the floor. Some new games were scattered about too. Ellie began to step over them. But when her foot came down on one, Ellie stepped a little harder, listening for the crack.

  Still quiet downstairs. No one was behind her.

  She'd traveled all the way across the room by now.

  She ducked down like David did, peeking through the window.

  It was as clear as watching a movie on their dad's HDTV. Ellie had only been there once—and David never at all—but she had been amazed at how new and shiny their dad's apartment was. It was as if he'd stripped off the old, gray life he'd shared here with Ellie and David and their mom. Like a papery, outgrown skin.

  Brad was walking around in his room, his steps big and angry. Even from here, Ellie could tell he was making a lot of noise. His mouth kept opening and closing. He threw a bunch of wadded-up clothes, or maybe a sheet, onto the floor. Then he ducked out of his room to grab something.

  It was a little girl.

  Ellie saw her swinging ponytail as Brad yanked her around.

  He pulled open the door to his bedroom closet and shoved the little girl inside. Ellie watched as Brad took a key off his dresser and twisted it in the old- fashioned lock.

  He stomped out of the room, disappearing from view.

  Ellie thought she could see the door bulge in and out as it was pounded, but maybe she was imagining that.

  She felt as if she were in a trance. Once somebody—called a hypno-something—had visited their school for a special assembly. He'd made the kids come up on the stage and do all sorts of things, bark like dogs, think their skin had turned purple. Even a couple of teachers had gone up. All the kids thought it was really funny, but Ellie had found it creepy.

  She felt like that now. Like somebody besides herself was making her do things.

  She tiptoed down the stairs, even more intent than before on making sure David didn't hear her.

  She was almost to the front door, taking the knob in her hand and beginning to nudge it around slowly, soundlessly, when something struck her.

  She'd gotten lucky in the closet the last time. Funny to think of it that way, but she had. If the lamp hadn't fallen, after years and years of her praying nothing would, she wouldn't have been able to break David's arm. And not every closet had a lamp in it.

  It didn't have to be a lamp, she realized. The one she'd used was too heavy to carry next-door anyway.

  She stood a minute, thinking. Her gaze roamed around the house, lighting on different objects.

  She forced herself to hurry, to decide. Brad's little sister—Ellie didn't even know her name; her mom had never tried very hard to get to know their neighbors—was in the closet right now. And Ellie knew what she was feeling, what she must be doing. She hoped the little girl hadn't hurt her hands too badly yet. Or her head.

  Then she thought of something good.

  She raced back upstairs—saying sorry in her head for the extra seconds; promising the little girl it would be worth it—and swerved into David's room again. She paused.

  "David!" she called. Wanting, needing to know where he was right now.

  It was stupid, though. David would never shout back.

  She ran across his room and pulled open the third dresser drawer. The box was behind a stack of T-shirts, and the secret drawer was in the bottom, opened by a series of taps.

  Easy.

  When she wasn't in the closet, she was usually watching David.

  The game she had stepped on in David's room—broken, you broke it, said the new voice—gave her an idea. Ellie dashed outside and ran across the two front lawns, pants pocket heavy with the thing she had taken. She pounded on Brad's front door.

  "David says you have his X-Men Three!" she shouted breathlessly as soon as Brad opened it.

  "What? I do not," Brad replied. He was giving her a look like his laugh had been, funny, shaky.

  "You do too!" she shrieked hysterically. "David says so! Go look!"

  Still with the same look, Brad began to back away, and Ellie watched him walk to some distant part of the house.

  "It's not here!" he called out loudly after a moment or two.

  Ellie squinted. She couldn't even see where Brad was calling from.

  "Fine!" she shouted. "I'll tell David but he won't be happy!"

  Brad would start to look again, she figured. At least give it one more try.

  She stepped into the house, pushing the door shut loudly, so Brad would think she had really left. Then she tore upstairs.

  The screams coming from the closet were so loud they hurt her ears. It was like running straight into a wall of sound. Ellie's eyes teared, her head smarted.

  She didn't even have to use the map in her head of where Brad's room must be—directly across from David's—to locate the little girl. She flung herself around a corner into Brad's room and ran straight for the dresser. It was tall, higher than any of the furniture in their own house. The key had to be somewhere on top, but Ellie couldn't see it. She looked around wildly, knowing she'd never be able to hear Brad coming up over all this screaming. But her brother's friend seemed as unbothered by it as David always was. Ellie stood on tiptoes, straining the backs of her legs till something felt ready to rip inside, and swiped her palm across the top.

  The key fell off. It dropped beneath the dresser.

  Heaving a grunt of pure frustration, which was lost beneath the little girl's cries, Ellie dropped to her knees and looked down.

  The key was out of reach.

  Ellie stretched her fingers, feeling splinters from the underside of the wood break off and stab the skin on her hand, before she touched its jagged edge. She forced herself to go slowly, nudging the key out, so she wouldn't lose it again. For a moment she paused to clap her hands over her ears, shutting out the sound of those awful screams. But she knew she couldn't stay like this because she wouldn't hear if Brad came upstairs, not even if he walked right up behind her.

  On hands and knees, she swung around.

  It didn't seem possible, but the little girl had gotten even louder, the whole room shaking now. Ellie understood. She could remember pushing her own voice beyond limits she hadn't known it had, stopping only when her tongue blocked her throat and she started to choke.

  The key was in her hand.

  Ellie stood up and fitted it into the lock on the closet door.

  There wasn't so much as a break in the little girl's screaming before Ellie pulled the door shut again and dropped down beside her in the dark.

  "Shhh!" Ellie hissed. "You have to stop screaming! Now!"

  Unbelievably, the girl fell silent. She didn't question Ellie's presence, or why Ellie hadn't let both of them out. All went quiet around them, two girls huddled in dark as complete as any Ellie had ever known, but somehow not as scary, as paralyzing as it had been only a day ago.

  And then they heard footsteps coming into the room.

  "Lily?" they heard Brad say.

  Ellie located the jackknife in her pocket in the dark. She had to prod out its blade by feel, pushing the can opener back in when she ran her thumb across it and didn't f
eel a sharp tip.

  Beside her, the little girl's breath heaved in and out, as if she were a small animal. Ellie couldn't see anything, but she gave the little girl—Lily—a nod, hoping she could somehow sense it in the dark.

  "Lily? You in there?" Brad said again.

  They would be blinded when the door opened, Ellie knew that.

  She raised the knife to what she hoped would be mid-section height on Brad, gauging it by feeling her own chest, then moving up several inches, and turning the tip so it faced out.

  Footsteps strode across the room and the door was yanked open.

  Ellie thrust forward with the sharp end of her blade.

  She missed completely—Ellie could tell because the knife had sunk into nothing but air—but it didn't matter. The second he knew who she was, and what she had done, Brad fell backwards onto the floor, like he did when David wrestled him, soft belly exposed.

  Ellie crawled across the floor. The knife was still open; she was holding it out. She bent down over Brad and whispered into his hot, red ear. "If you ever put her in the closet again—"

  "No—" Brad shook his head. He had started to cry. "No, okay, I won't, I promise—"

  Ellie jumped to her feet. She turned around and took one look at Lily. The little girl's face was all smeary with tears and she'd bitten right through a spot on her lip. But she didn't look scared anymore. Her eyes were big and shining as they gazed up at Ellie.

  Ellie pocketed the knife, and ran.

  They ate Ellie's macaroni and cheese for dinner, and her mom said it was good.

  David kept his eyes cast down, refusing to look at Ellie. He wouldn't quit cradling his cast, which already looked grimy.

  When their mother tried to coax him to speak, David's voice reached a high-pitched, teetering note. "I said I don't want to talk!"

  The next day, David stayed home from school because he said his arm was hurting. Ellie figured he'd play his DS all day long. He'd gotten pretty good at it left-handed.