A picture of Miles, on the summit of MountRainier. He was grinning and giving the thumbs upsign. His hat was off and his auburn hair was shining in the sun like red gold. He looked handsomeand a little wicked.
Scrawled in black marker across white snow was"For the bossiest, nosiest, stubbornest, BEST little sister in the world. Love, Miles."
With no idea whyshe was doing it, Maggie pulledthe picture out of the mirror. She shoved it in herjacket pocket and ran back down the hall.
Everyone was gathered around the couch, now.Even Jake was nosing his way in. Maggie couldn't see her mother, but the lack of frantic activity toldher that there wasn't any crisis going on. Everyoneseemed quiet and restrained.
It'll just take a few minutes. It's better for me notto tell them anything until I'm sure. I'll probablybe back before they even realize I'm gone.
With that jumble of excuses in her mind, sheslipped out the front door to follow Sylvia.
Chapter 3
Itwas raining, of course. Not a terrible storm, justa steady spitting patter that Maggie hardly noticed.It plastered her hair down but it also concealed thenoise of her steps.
And the lowlying clouds blocked out MountRainier. In clear weather the mountain loomed over the city like an avenging white angel.
I'mactuallyfollowingsomebody,Maggiethought. She could hardly believe it, but she wasreally moving down her own home street like a spy,skirting cars and ducking behind rhododendron bushes.
While all the time keeping her eyes on the slender figure in front of her.
That was what kept her going. She might havefelt silly and almost embarrassed to be doing thisbut not tonight. What had happened put her farbeyond embarrassment, and if she 'started to relax inside and feel the faint pricklings of uncertainty,memory surged up again and swept everythingelse away.
The memory of Sylvia's voice. The buckle might not have been fastenedright.And the memory ofher mother's hand going limp as her body sagged.
I'll follow you no matter where you go, Maggie thought. And then...
She didn't know what then. She was trusting to instinct, letting it guide her. It was stronger andsmarter than she was at the moment.
Sylvia's apartment was in the U district, the college area around the University of Washington. Itwas a long walk, and by the time they reached it,the rain was coming down harder. Maggie was gladto get out of it and follow Sylvia into the under ground garage.
This is a dangerous place, she thought as shewalked into the echoing darkness. But it was simply a note made by her mind, with no emotionattached. At the moment she felt as if she couldpunch a mugger hard enough to splatter himagainst the wall.
She kept a safe distance as Sylvia waited for the elevator, then headed for the stairs. Third floor. Maggie trotted up faster than the elevator could make it and arrived not even breathing hard. Thedoor of the stairwell was half open and she watched from behind it as Sylvia walked to anapartment door and raised a hand to knock.
Before she could, the door opened. A boy wholooked a little older than Maggie was holding it,letting a couple of laughing girls out. Music driftedto Maggie, and the smell of incense.
They're having a party in there.
That shouldn't be so shocking-it was Saturdaynight. Sylvia lived with three roommates; they were undoubtedly the ones having the party. But as the girls walked past Sylvia they smiled and noddedand Sylvia smiled and nodded back before walkingcalmly through the door.
Hardly the sort of thing you do when your boyfriend's just been killed, Maggie thought fiercely.And it doesn't exactly fit the "tragic heroine" act,either.
Then she noticed something. When the boy holding the door let go, it had swung almost shut - but not quite.
Can I do it? Maybe. If I look confident. I'd haveto walk right in as if I belonged, not hesitate.
And hope she doesn't notice. Then get behindher. See if shetalksto anybody, what she says...
The laughing girls had caught the elevator. Maggie walked straight up to the door and, withoutpausing, she pushed it open and went inside.
Look confident, she thought, and she kept ongoing, instinctively moving toward a side wall. Herentry didn't seem to have caused a stir, and it waseasier than she'd thought to walk in among these strangers. The apartment was very dark, for onething. And the music was medium loud, and everybody seemed to be talking.
The only problem was that she couldn't see Sylvia. She put her back to the wall and waited forher eyes to adjust.
Not over there-not by the stereo. Probably inone of the bedrooms in back,changing.
It was as she moved toward the little hallwaythat led to the bedrooms that Maggie really noticedthe strangeness. Something about this apartment,about this party... was off. Weird. It gave her thesame feeling that Sylvia did.
Danger.
This place is dangerous.
Everybody there was so good-looking - or elseugly in a really fashionable way, as if they'd juststepped off MTV. But there was an air about themthat reminded Maggie of the sharks at the SeattleAquarium. A coldness that couldn't be seen, onlysensed.
There is something so wrong here. Are they alldrug dealers or something?Satanists?Some kindof junior mafia? They just feel so evil....
Maggie herself felt like a cat with all its fur standing on end.
When she heard a girl's voice coming from thefirst bedroom, she froze, hoping it was Sylvia.
"Really, the most secret place you've ever imagined." It wasn't Sylvia. Maggie could just see thespeaker through the crack in the door. She waspale and beautiful, with one long black braid, andshe was leaning forward and lightly touching theback of a boy's hand.
"So exotic, so mysterious-it's a place from thepast, you see. It's ancient, and everybody's forgotten about it, but it's still there. Of course, it's terribly dangerous-but not forus...."
Not relevant, Maggie's mind decided, and shestopped listening. Somebody's weird vacationplans; nothing to do with Sylvia or Miles.
She kept on edging down the hall. The door atthe end was shut.
Sylvia's bedroom.
Well, she has to be in there; she isn't anywhereelse.
With a surreptitious glance behind her, Maggie crept closer to the door. She leaned toward it untilher cheek touched the cool white paint on the wood, all the while straining her eyes toward theliving room in case somebody should turn her way. She held her breath and tried to look casual, buther heart was beating so loudly that she could only hear it and the music.
Certainly there was nobody talking behind thedoor. Maggie's hopes of eavesdropping faded.