Crimes by Moonlight

“New Jersey State Police are investigating the disappearance of sixteen-year-old Shane Malone. The teenager was last seen at a popular tourist attraction, the House of Horrors, in Seaside Heights. According to authorities, Malone apparently entered the dark, mazelike haunted house and never emerged. A search of the building revealed no signs of foul play. Pretty strange stuff, folks. Please keep an eye out for Shane. He’s five ten, one hundred fifty pounds, blond hair, blue eyes. And now, here’s the Red Hot Chili Peppers…”

“DID you see how much Grace ate for breakfast this morning?” John said as he helped load the dishwasher the following Saturday morning. “Three big pancakes and four strips of bacon, and she’s still as thin as a rail.”

“It must be a holdover from her babyhood. Do you think she remembers being hungry?” It wasn’t the first time Miriam had asked this. She was plagued by what she knew of her foster daughter’s past. The five days Grace had spent as a toddler alone in her apartment with Mittens the cat, sharing dry kibble from a bag Mittens had resourcefully clawed open. CAT SAVES ABANDONED TYKE-John and Miriam remembered reading the headlines six years ago, never suspecting at the time that the traumatized child in the story would one day live with them.

If Grace remembered, she never spoke of it. She acted as if her life began when she walked through their door.

“Just keep pumping her full of food, honey,” John told his wife. “Buy her a hot dog at the game today.”

“I don’t like baseball,” a light voice piped.

John spun around to find Grace standing the in kitchen doorway.

“Can I please stay home?” she asked.

“Not all alone.” John grabbed the Windex and started spraying the counters.

Miriam and Grace both stared at him quizzically. “She wouldn’t be alone,” Miriam said. “You said at breakfast you were staying home to do some yard work.”

“Oh. Yeah, right.” John scrubbed at a sticky spot. “I just meant she wouldn’t have anyone to play with, since I’ll be working.”

“I don’t want to play. I’ll help you work.”

“Isn’t that nice! Daddy’s little helper!” Miriam beamed.

“Great,” John said.

“There you are.” Christopher charged into the kitchen and grabbed Grace by the arm. “Let’s go out to our clubhouse until it’s time for me to go to my game.”

“Grace is so good for Christopher,” Miriam said, watching the kids run out to the patch of woods behind the house. “She gives him a chance to be the leader, instead of following Gordon around like a lost lamb.”

“Do you think they should be out there alone?” John asked. “Is it safe?”

The police had called earlier in the week looking for any information the Harrigans could provide about the House of Horrors and the group of teenagers with Shane Malone. John had answered all their questions, even put Gordon on the line since he had been the first person to follow Shane’s group. The detective had seemed disappointed in what little they had to offer.

Miriam gave him a quick hug. “I know. I’ve been feeling overprotective lately, too. I keep thinking it could have been one of our kids, snatched away in the dark while we were right there beside them.”

John stared through the kitchen window. “You’re right. It could just as easily have been Gordon or Christopher.”

“Or Grace,” Miriam said. She shivered. “I can’t imagine how horrible it would be not knowing where your child is.”

John put his arm around Miriam’s shoulders. “You’re right. Nothing is worse than not knowing.”

JOHN got so absorbed in trimming the ivy in the side yard he didn’t notice when the boys and Miriam left for the baseball game, and he forgot about Grace’s offer to help him. Then he ripped up a particularly ornery vine, staggered backward, and there she was, staring at him expectantly from the edge of the lawn.

“Do you want to load the ivy clippings into the garden cart?” was all he could think to offer.

She didn’t answer, didn’t even smile, but ran off to get the cart at lightning speed. They spent the next hour working as partners. He showed her how to use the garden shears; she stopped him from chopping down an azalea. Grace’s keen eyes missed nothing-she pointed out a bird’s nest in the rain gutter and a praying mantis eating aphids off Miriam’s roses. And as ski

While Grace was off with the last load, John admired the manicured border. Some ivy leaves trembled, and a garter snake came slithering out. It crossed inches away from his sneaker and curled on the flagstone path to soak up some sun. As John stared at it, the tiny snake lifted its head and shot its forked tongue out at him. John felt a revulsion so deep the trees and lawn seemed to melt away. The whole world was the snake. He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t force a sound from his constricted throat.

Then a fragile hand slipped into his. “Don’t be afraid,” Grace said.

John smiled down at their clasped hands. When he glanced back at the walk, the snake was gone. He sca

“Where did it go?” he asked Grace.

The doors of the minivan slammed, and ru

Grace’s pale green-gold eyes met his without hesitation, and she smiled. Then she pivoted and scampered off to meet Christopher, shouting the answer over her shoulder.

“Away.”

JOHN rolled through the cha

“… missing teen, Shane Malone. Authorities are calling this a true locked-room mystery,” the voice-over said as the camera zoomed in on the House of Horrors. “There are only three doors in the building, and all three were ma

The screen flashed to a yearbook photo of Shane in a shirt and tie, hair neatly trimmed, smiling confidently at the camera.

“Kid was kind of a jerk, wasn’t he?” John asked as he stared at the TV. “He made fun of his friends and mocked Christopher, a kid he didn’t even know.”

“He was rude, that’s all,” Miriam said. “No worse than Gordon can be.”

No worse than Gordon, except Gordon was here, and Shane had disappeared.

John studied his wife. Her hands, still so slender and delicate, were never still, even when she was reading. Absently, she looped a strand of honey-colored hair behind her ear. The summer sun had brightened it, but some of the highlights were silver, not gold. Her brow furrowed as she concentrated on her book. How much Christopher looked like her! How similar was Gordon’s nervous energy! Suddenly John felt crushed by the love he felt for Miriam and for his sons. No harm could ever be allowed to come to them. Never.

John flung back the covers.

“Where are you going?” Miriam asked.

“To check on the boys. And Grace.”

GORDON slept flat on his back with his hands at his sides, a carving on a royal tomb. He was as tall as his mother; his feet were as big as his father’s, but to John, Gordon looked as i

Miriam had gone off the deep end with the princess motif. Bubblegum-pink walls, frothy white curtains, pink shag rug, and, in the center of the floor, a canopy bed. He squinted, trying to make out Grace’s tiny form in the midst of all those pink covers. Finally he spied her curled on the far edge of the bed, as if she were sharing it with a sumo wrestler, so insubstantial she barely dented the pillow.