Darkness Read Free Page A

you’re not dumb—you’re very smart. You’re just too generous sometimes, that’s all. You give away ideas that you could sell, and then wonder why no one wants to buy them. And don’t argue with me, Ted—you know it’s true.”
    When he remained grimly silent, she went on, “Please, Ted, relax. Stop worrying, and stop being mad at the world. You’ve always been able to find work before. You’ll find something this time, too.”
    “Yeah,” Ted groused. “And in the meantime, my daughter looks at me like I’m a total incompetent, and my wife—”
    “Your wife loves you very much,” Mary finished for him. “And if Kelly acts as though she thinks you’re incompetent, at least she acknowledges that you’re alive. In case you hadn’t noticed, she’s practically stopped speaking to me.”
    Ted smiled thinly in the darkness of the car. “Maybe you should consider yourself lucky. At least she doesn’t tell you you’re stupid when you object to pink hair.”
    “She did that three months ago, when she dyed it.” Mary sighed. “Besides, haven’t you seen the kids she hangs out with? Some of them have purple hair. And rings in their noses.”
    “What the hell are they thinking of? Don’t they know—”
    “They know they want to look different,” Mary interrupted. “For most of them, it’s just part of growing up. But with Kelly …”
    She lapsed into silence as Ted turned the Chrysler into their driveway. She frowned, staring at the small house. Every light had been turned on. She should have been relieved; usually if she and Ted came home after midnight on a Friday night, the house was dark and empty. But tonight, even aside from the bright lights, she could sense Kelly’s presence.
    Sense that something was wrong.
    She sat still in the car, making no move to open the door even after Ted had switched the engine off. Her feeling of unease was growing.
    “Mary?” Ted finally asked. “What is it? You okay?”
    His words seemed to bring Mary back to life, and she groped for the door handle. The door stuck for a second, then opened. She got out, moved along the cracked sidewalk, then stopped at the front door. She should have reached out and tried the knob—Kelly practically never remembered to lock it—but didn’t. And when Ted came up beside her, she reached out to touchhis arm, almost as if to prevent him from opening the door either.
    “What is it?” Ted asked again.
    Mary shook her head, as if to rid herself of the strange premonition she was having. “It—I don’t know,” she breathed. “There’s something wrong. I can feel it.”
    A slow grin spread over Ted’s face, and his voice took on a drawl that was even broader than usual. “What could be wrong? I got no job, and my daughter hates me, and my wife thinks I give the farm away.” He reached out and tried the knob. The front door swung open.
    About to go inside, he hesitated. Now he, too, felt a chill wash over him. His grin fading, he crossed the threshold. “Kelly?” he called out.
    Silence.
    And yet the house didn’t feel empty.
    “Maybe she’s in her room,” Ted said, hearing the lack of conviction in his own voice.
    Mary, firmly putting aside the fear that was crawling inside her, moved past her husband, starting toward Kelly’s room. But as she reached the hallway she paused, glancing into the bathroom.
    She froze, her mouth open, an unvoiced scream constricting her throat. On the floor, lying still in a pool of blood, her face deathly pale, lay her daughter, a large, jagged fragment of the smashed mirror still clasped tightly in her right hand.
    The scream died before it left her lips. Only a faint whisper emerged. “Kelly? Oh, no—Kelly—
nooo …”
She moved forward, dropping to the floor, staring helplessly at her daughter’s limp form, and then she sensed Ted standing behind her. “Do something, Ted,” she whispered. “Call an ambulance—”
    A numbness seemed to fall over her then, and she thought