Free Music to Die For by Radine Trees Nehring

someone’s inside, should be a little light somewhere. If you don’t see anything, come around to the front. Now, stay in the woods ’til I give an owl call, ’n’ we’ll all come in.”
    Silently, Chase, Tracy, and Brigid faded into the darkness, and Carrie stood alone, staring at the moonlit back of the house with its vacant windows. There were no vehicles in sight but, like the van, they could be hidden in the woods. A wide lane, undoubtedly the main road Chase had referred to, led into the yard at the front of the house.
    An owl called. Chase was a good owl mimic, just as good as she herself was.
    Carrie left the shelter of the trees and started across the clearing, trying to stay close to the moon-shadows of various objects and bushes and almost tripping over a board that was too flat to cast a shadow. One more ding for the blue shoes!
    Then she was against the wall of the house, touching the splintery wood with her hands. She moved past the three windows on her side, standing on tiptoe at the edge of each one, peering over the sills. There was no light showing, but, if anyone was inside in the dark, they could surely have seen the shadow of her head in the moonlight. Had Chase thought about that? But no voice or movement challenged her, and there were no sounds anywhere else in the clearing.
    She continued on to the corner of the house and looked around, catching a glimpse of Brigid’s skirt as it disappeared past the front corner. She followed, and in another minute they were grouped together by the front steps.
    Chase held up a key. “Stay here,” he said.
    Quick as a cat, his mother snatched the key out of his hand. “Better me,” she whispered. “Don’t want to risk Dulcey’s daddy.” She stepped out of Chase’s reach and climbed the steps.
    The key clicked, and Brigid moved sideways against the wall as she turned the knob and pushed the door open, letting it squeak inward into blank darkness.
    Carrie held her breath for seconds that seemed like minutes. Then Brigid Mason stepped around the doorframe and into the house, while the other three hurried up the steps behind her. When they were all through the door, Carrie shut it as quietly as she could.
    Tracy’s voice said, “Dulcey?” sounding loud in the silence, and only silence answered her.
    “Tracy, go turn on a light,” Chase said, “and tell us how the house’s laid out.”
    “Two bedrooms, bathroom on the left. A kitchen, right. We’re in the main room now. There’s no cellar, solid rock under the house. Loft’s above us.”
    She switched on a lamp, revealing a large room that was clean, but full of male clutter. Most of the furniture was old and worn, but there were a few newer pieces, including a recliner and a television set.
    Carrie drew a quick, involuntary breath. There was also a glass-front case in the room, with a collection of deadly looking knives displayed against its cloth backing.
    Tracy noticed what Carrie was looking at and said, “Farel collected ’em,” but she took no time to say more. She was already turning on a light in the kitchen, and Chase and his mother had disappeared in the direction of the bedrooms.
    Carrie looked closely at the knife collection, then, seeing a plain wood stairway at the side of the room, she climbed up to take a look. The stairs led to an empty loft with a large rag rug on the floor. In the center of the rug sat a cloth doll with staring button eyes, a child’s plastic tea set, and building blocks stacked in a small wagon pulled by two painted horses. A child was meant to be here. Carrie could imagine what fun a four-year-old would find in this high-up hidey-hole. Maybe Tracy had known what she was talking about, and Farel really hadn’t meant Dulcey any harm.
    But now the toys were silent, alone, and arranged way too neatly.
    Carrie heard footsteps below and looked over the railing. Chase was back in the room, carrying a blue hair ribbon. Tracy followed him, her face drawn and