Get a Clue(55)
“Or Dante digging us out of here?”
“He’d have to dig us to China to get us out of here.”
Another thud.
Breanne and Shelly stared at each other.
“I’d feel a lot better if I knew what that was,” Breanne said.
“Yeah.” Looking around her uneasily, Shelly kept eating. “Up until this morning, I thought this house the most soothing, amazing place I’d ever seen. Now it’s just . . . creepy.”#p#分页标题#e#
“Agreed.”
“It’ll be different when the electricity is back.” Shelly hugged herself. “Probably.”
Another odd thump.
“That’s it,” Breanne said. She hopped off the stool and opened the kitchen door. “Hello?”
No one answered.
“It’s getting dark,” Shelly noted uneasily.
“Yeah.”
“Wish we could make like a fat man’s pants and split,” Shelly whispered.
No kidding. “Where’s Lariana?”
“She said she was taking a few hours off. I assumed she was having a late lunch,” Shelly said.
“Wouldn’t that be in the kitchen?”
They both looked around. No Lariana.
Thump.
“Come on,” Breanne said.
“W-where are we going?”
“I’m tired of being scared. We’re going to find out what that noise is.”
“But it’s nearly dark.”
Was dark. Breanne tugged down the nearly obscenely short skirt, snatched the lantern, and then, on second thought, took a large butcher knife out of its block, handing it to Shelly before grabbing another one for herself. “Don’t worry, we’re going to be fine.”
“Then why are we carrying butcher knives?”
“Just in case.” She tugged Shelly out of the kitchen. The hallway was dark except for the lantern’s glow, and she went still to listen. “What’s down that way?” she asked, pointing with the knife past the dining room.
“A sauna, gym, Jacuzzi, and a small, indoor pool.”
More thumps.
“Oh, God,” Shelly said, swallowing hard.
“Come on.” They tiptoed toward the area, their knives out in front of them.
The thumps got louder.
“Could you really use that knife if you had to?” Shelly whispered.
Breanne thought about the spider she wouldn’t have been able to kill. “Yes,” she lied. “You?”
Shelly’s knife was shaking so badly it was in danger of falling out of her hand, so she brought up her other hand to help support it. “Sure.” She gulped. “No sweat.”
They turned a corner and came to an open workout area, two of the walls lined in mirrors, the room filled with first-class gym equipment. There was a full-screen TV on one wall with an opened DVD case of Friends: Season One on the floor, and Shelly sighed in relief when the light from the lantern fell on it. “Oh, it’s just Patrick.”
“You sure?”
“He loves Friends. It’s how he learned American slang. He must be around here trying to get that TV running on battery or something. Patrick?” she called out.
There was no response but the odd banging, which had become . . . steady. Rhythmic. “Oh, God,” Breanne said and stopped, sagging in relief against a mirror. She couldn’t believe it.
“What?” Shelly whispered.
Someone cried out, a woman.
“Lariana,” Shelly said, and ran for the sauna.
“Shelly, wait!” Breanne took off after her, catching her just before the door. “I don’t think you want to—”
As they stood there, the door to the sauna opened and Lariana appeared in the doorway holding a flashlight, wearing only a towel and a cat-in-cream smile. At the sight of Breanne and Shelly, one carefully waxed brow shot straight up. Cool as ever, she shut the sauna door behind her.
“Ohmigod, Lariana.” Shelly put her hand to her heart and nearly nicked her own chin with the knife. “You’re not dead.”#p#分页标题#e#
“Do I look dead?”
Breanne took in Lariana’s dewy skin, the I’ve-just-been-screwed satisfaction swimming in her eyes. “Nope, you sure don’t.” Carefully, she relieved the still-shocked Shelly of her knife. “Sorry,” she told Lariana for the both of them. “Overactive imagination.”
Shelly blinked. “What were you—”
“I told you I was taking a few hours for myself.” Lariana strutted past them. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get into the shower.”
“Sure.” Breanne didn’t open the closed sauna door and peek, but she wanted to. She’d recognized those thunks. Lariana hadn’t been in there by herself—she was sure of it.