House at the End of the Street (3 page)

She agreed then. She didn’t want to repeat her mother’s mistakes.

The sky grew darker. Elissa looked back, suddenly realizing how fast she’d been walking. She was far out into the woods, and all the trees looked the same. The birds were quiet. She heard a twig snap somewhere behind her and spun around, staring into the darkness. The hair on her arms bristled. She scanned the horizon, looking for signs of which way she’d come from, when she saw her mother in the kitchen window, so far below. She turned and ran, sprinting as fast as she could, not knowing what exactly had frightened her.

“B
ombs away!” a tan girl in a purple bikini screamed. She ran over the brick patio and leapt into the pool. A giant wave surged out around her, rippling the water’s crystal surface. The Reynoldses’ house was three times the size of Elissa’s, complete with a pool, waterfall, and hot tub. These people had money. A few guys and girls lounged around the kidney-shaped pool sunbathing, while others played Marco Polo in the shallow end.

Bonnie Reynolds dragged Elissa away from her mom, insisting Elissa just
had
to meet her son. “That’s Tyler,” she said, pointing to a muscular boy with electric green swimming trunks. “You should get him to show you around. Tyler’s captain of the swim team, and he’s just a junior. He and his friends started an after-school club for famine relief
and raised over a thousand dollars last year.” She raked her manicured fingernails through her highlighted hair. “Was it Africa or Tibet? Don’t know, but I’m pretty sure it was one of those starving places.”

Elissa nodded, trying to focus on the cheeseburgers sizzling on the grill or the inflatable pool ball that flew over the picnic table. She’d been in Bonnie’s presence all of three minutes, and she couldn’t stand her any longer. You could tell Mrs. Reynolds was the type of parent who thought whatever Tyler did (tying his shoes, making his bed, blowing his nose) was worthy of a standing ovation. Elissa was about to break free when Tyler—the man, the myth, the legend himself—strode over. He narrowed his gray eyes at his mom, and she sauntered back toward the adults.

“Sorry about that,” he said coolly. “She give you the full treatment?” He patted himself down with a towel, flicking back a few strands of wet hair.

“Don’t sweat it—moms can be like that.” Elissa smiled, thankful that Tyler was at least semi-normal. “I’m sure you’re really a total loser.”

Tyler laughed—a real, genuine laugh, and led her over to the buffet table. There were plates of coleslaw and French fries, a tray of hot dogs, and her mom’s rancid-looking potato salad. Sarah had decided to put pickles in it, despite Elissa’s warning against it.

Tyler passed her a plastic plate and they both loaded up,
settling down beside some of the adults. Bonnie looked up from her small heap of salad. “So how are you settling in?” she asked, her eyes glancing from Sarah to Elissa.

“Have you met Ryan Jacobsen yet?” Tyler asked. His mother glared at him, but he ignored it.

“Not yet…” Elissa said, a little confused. She recognized the last name—the Jacobsens were the couple who’d been killed in the house. But she hadn’t heard anything about a relative living in town. “Is he coming today?”

“Here?” Bonnie sputtered, her voice rising three octaves.

Ben Reynolds, Bonnie’s husband, smoothed back his thin brown hair. “Gee, honey,” he joked, “Did you forget to get that invite out in time?”

The entire table erupted in laughter. A couple sitting next to Sarah nearly spit chunks of hamburger onto the patio. “Oh, stop it!” Bonnie said, waving him off with a smile. She turned to Sarah and Elissa. “Ryan Jacobsen is the son of the couple who were murdered. He still lives in the house, but he pretty much keeps to himself.”

“Somebody should burn that house down,” a woman with oversize sunglasses said.

“Stop it, Jenny,” Bonnie hissed.

The woman just shrugged. “I didn’t say Ryan Jacobsen had to be in it. But come on! Why is the kid still living there?”

Ben Reynolds shook his head. “He’s driving down all the home values. The town tried to buy the house. We
would’ve torn it down and donated the land to the state park.”

Elissa glanced sideways at Sarah. What was that supposed to mean? Were they also considered undesirable tenants? The single mother with her daughter. The rusted Ford Bronco that sat out front. Sarah rested her hand on Elissa’s leg, sensing she might say something. “It does seem a little strange that he’d want to stay in the house,” Sarah tried, joining the conversation.

The woman pulled off her sunglasses, revealing heavily made-up eyes. “The house where his parents were murdered. Maybe he’s crazier than his sister.”

Elissa straightened up, having a hard time listening to this. Who were these people to judge Ryan Jacobsen—to judge
her
? “I can think of crazier things than living in the house you grew up in. What exactly happened?”

The table fell silent. Tyler set down his fork. “The daughter, Carrie Anne, killed her parents.”

“That part I know,” Elissa said, trying not to roll her eyes. “But where was Ryan?”

“He didn’t live there. He lived with an aunt upstate.” Tyler swiped his sun-bleached hair off his forehead.

“What happened to Carrie Anne after they were killed?” Elissa asked. She pushed back her plate, suddenly losing her appetite.

Mr. Reynolds met her eyes. “There was a massive search for her. She drowned near the dam.”

“But they never found her body,” Tyler jumped in. “Some people think she still lives in the woods.”

Bonnie stood, dropping her plate in the trash. “Ignore him. That’s just an urban legend that he and his friends believe.”

“There’s no way she could survive out there in the woods,” Jenny said, wiping her massive sunglasses on the edge of her pink polo shirt. The rhinestones on the sides glinted in the sun.

Ben shook his head. “She had an accident outside—fell from the swings and never recovered. The girl was out of control. She’d have these horrible screaming fits. You could hear her all the way over here.”

“Why wasn’t she in the hospital?” Elissa asked.

“They were supposedly homeschooling her,” Ben Reynolds explained. Bonnie gestured to a maid standing by the back door, signaling for her to pick up the empty plates and glasses.

Jenny let out a low, sarcastic laugh. “Right. They basically kept her tied to the radiator.”

“Enough,” Bonnie said, an edge in her voice. “Can we please change the subject?”

The table slowly broke into different conversations, some talking about the basketball game the night before, others speculating on when they’d finish the new restaurant at the end of main street. Elissa watched her mom push the remnants of her burger around her plate. There were so
many questions about what happened in that house and what happened to that girl. But Elissa kept turning over the same ones:
who was Ryan Jacobsen and how could he stand to stay there, day and night, alone?

T
he sun was setting when they started back down the road. They could hear the sounds of the party receding behind them. Sarah clutched the empty bowl to her chest. “So, did that freak you out a little?” she finally asked, turning to Elissa.

“Definitely—our neighbors suck. ‘Maybe we should burn his house down’?” She mimed quote signs in the air. “Real nice. I wonder where they keep their torches and pitchforks.…”

Sarah went silent. Elissa knew it was impossible for her to deny it. Maybe the houses in this neighborhood were classy, but the residents were not. She couldn’t imagine what they were saying about them right now—this new single mother and her daughter renting the house down the road. They’d be horrified if they knew Sarah was a lowly X-ray technician at a hospital. If you didn’t have an MD, PhD, DDS, or Esq after your name, you might as well be dead.

“Tyler seems pretty cool, though,” Sarah ventured.

“Jury’s still out on that one.”

They kept walking, starting up the long driveway toward
their house. The woods were dark. As Sarah climbed the front steps, Elissa paused on the lawn, looking out beyond the trees. “Do you really think someone could live out there?” she asked.

Sarah turned back, her gaze following Elissa’s. “No,” she said softly. “I don’t.” Then she turned into the house, flicking on the light in the foyer.

Elissa just stood there, staring into the darkness. She had the strange feeling that someone was watching her. She had felt it this morning as well, when she brought the cushions out onto the back porch, arranging them on the chairs. She kept her eyes locked on a specific tree, studying a shadow behind it. She blinked, wondering if it was a trick of the light. She turned back toward the house, but the edgy feeling still followed her long after she was inside, the door closed and locked.

E
lissa got out of Tyler’s car, staring up at the mansion in front of them. She hadn’t wanted to come here. She’d phoned Sarah after school to finalize their plans— the first real quality time they’d spend together in… well, she couldn’t remember when. They were supposed to make Elissa’s signature Old Bay popcorn tonight (which tasted awesome but made your breath smell) and watch black-and-white movies on TCM. Sarah had called to bail a half hour before. Something about having to work the night shift at the hospital, being new, and not being able to say no. Part of it enraged Elissa, the fact that they’d come all this way to be the same people they were in Chicago. What was the point of Sarah spending so much time
training as an X-ray technician if she was going to have the same hours as at her old bartending jobs?

Tyler bounded up the front steps and into the house, signaling for Elissa to follow. The famine relief fund-raising meeting. What fun. He’d invited her here after finding her alone on the school quad. It had been that kind of day—alone in study hall, doodling on her notebook, alone in gym, standing in the outfield for softball practice. Alone at her locker, walking through the halls, alone, alone, alone. The thought of going home to an empty house was the only thing that brought her here. That, and she couldn’t help but admit that Tyler was just the tiniest bit attractive (in that traditional, he-could’ve-been-pickedout-of-a-catalog way).