Free Music to Die For by Radine Trees Nehring Page A

frightened. “She was here,” was all Chase said.
    Tracy spoke, her voice shaky, almost too weak to carry. “I tied that ribbon myself. There were two of them. They match her performance dress.”
    “There are toys up here,” Carrie said as she started down the steps, “but I don’t think she had time to play with them.”
    “Back door ain’t locked,” Brigid said, appearing from the hall, “but the whole house is empty. Did everyone look in closets, under beds ’n’ such?”
    No one spoke, but they were nodding as she went on, holding up a red plastic cylinder. “I found a flashlight.”
    Suddenly all of them lifted their heads as they heard the sound of a motor beginning its uphill struggle on the front lane. Chase moved first, switching off the lamp. “This way,” he said as Tracy grabbed Carrie’s hand and pulled her toward the back door, following Chase and Brigid.
    Car lights were appearing as the four crossed the clearing and, with the house shielding them from the sight of anyone in the car, crashed into the shelter of the trees. Tracy still had Carrie’s hand, pulling her along as they raced into the woods. As soon as they were hidden by trees and underbrush, they moved in a circle to where they could see the front of the house. The noise of the car stopped as the porch came into their view, and they froze into silence.
    “Front door’s still unlocked,” hissed Tracy, turning toward Chase.
    “No matter,” whispered Brigid, “back door allus was.”
    Carrie paid no attention to them. She was busy watching the man who got out of the car. His face was in shadow, but he was tall, and Carrie had glimpsed a red and white checked shirt when the car’s dome light flashed on. She wondered if anyone else in the group recognized the driver of the car. If they did, no one said anything.
    They were very still as the man walked slowly up the steps, and it was easy to hear the thunk of his boots on the boards. He carried a tote bag in his left hand.
    A barred owl called, this time a real one, Carrie hoped.
    The man reached for the doorknob and, when the door opened easily, hesitated. His right hand went to the back of his waist. He has a gun tucked in his belt, Carrie thought, and saw the glint of moonlight on metal before he disappeared inside the house.
    Tracy gasped, and Carrie put out an arm and hugged the young woman against her side. She could feel the warmth of Tracy’s body as the two of them drew together, silent and tense. Brigid’s breath was making short puffs only inches away, and Carrie sensed the electric alertness in Chase’s body, just behind her.
    They waited as a flashlight flickered back and forth through the uncurtained windows. What was the man searching for? Carrie wondered if they had missed finding something important.
    Suddenly the man’s feet thudded on the boards as, tote bag in hand, he hurried out, leaped over the steps, and catapulted into his car.
    Chase’s exclamation, “What th...,” was choked into silence as flickering light, then a roar of flame, beat against the horrified faces of the four watchers. The visitor’s car came to life, turned, and rocketed away from the burning house.
    Tracy’s scream was drowned by the noise of the fire as both Brigid and Carrie held her, fighting against her struggle to run toward the house.
    “Dulcey’s not in there! No one’s in there! You saw that yourself,” shouted Brigid over the noise of the fire as the three of them huddled around Tracy and began, as one body, to pull her away toward the back lane.
    I forgot about fingerprints, Carrie thought as she stumbled through the darkness, but it sure isn’t going to matter now.
     

Chapter VII
    They plunged through the woods, half-carrying Tracy, forcing her to move with them. Chase was walking in front of Carrie, and the branches he shoved aside whipped back against her body and face. One cracked across her lips, and she tasted blood.
    Even after they reached the lane,