Go now

“Wait here,” you say, grabbing the flashlight out of your glove box.

“Kay,” Karen slurs. You get out of the car and look around before jogging up to the house. You ring the bell and wait, but of course there’s nothing. Nobody’s here. You don’t think anybody’s watching, and it’s dark. The porch light isn’t on.

You duck around the side of the house and head to the back. Professor Austen has a detached garage, and you peer in through the window. It’s dark, so you turn on the flashlight.

Her car is not here. So she’s somewhere else. OK.

You go to the back door of the house and try it, but it’s locked. It’s not possible to get past this with your library card. You stand on the back porch, trying to think. Professor Austen keeps her yard tidy, except for a potted plant near your foot. It’s been knocked over, and the soil has spilled.

You have a bad feeling about this.

Screw it. You smash one of the small windows in the back door and reach through to unlock it. Inside, you turn on your flashlight. A stand by the door that once held umbrellas lies on the floor along with the umbrellas. Otherwise, the kitchen looks normal. You look around, trying not to make it too obvious with the windows that there’s someone in here with a flashlight.

Everything appears to be in its place. Professor Austen’s home isn’t large, but it’s nice.

You find no sign of Sissy. Not so much as a forgotten tube of lipstick or a compact. You don’t smell her perfume either, just soap.

You make your way up to the bedroom, where you know that something’s wrong, but you can’t put your finger on it. No sign of Sissy’s clothes or anything. You check the bathroom, but there is only one toothbrush.

Back in the bedroom, you think hard.

The dresser! When you peeked in here, there were framed photos on it. They’re gone.

And the floor: you remember noting some of the cast-off clothes on the rug. The rug is gone.

Suddenly feeling cold, you rush downstairs and out the back, dashing across the yard to the trash cans by the garage. You open the lid and lean in, tearing open the garbage back on top.

Inside, you find broken glass and frames. No way. No way.

The lid clatters shut as you back away in shock. You can see it: a struggle in the bedroom, a body in the rug, being dragged through the house, knocking things down and… the pot on the porch on the way to the garage, into the trunk of a car… holy shit. You want to puke.

You sprint back around the side of the house, leaping back into the car where you find Lisey and Karen, softly, gently, incoherently making out. They stop as you arrive, slamming the door shut and locking it as you fumble with the keys.

“What’s wrong?” Lisey asks.

You ignore her, trying to think. What do you do?

Call the police? What can you tell them? It’s not like you have evidence.

But how can you just sit on this?

Go to the police?

Or drive back to CCL House?