Chapter 3

Dinner was a replay of last year. Almost.

Mom's roasted turkey, Dad's bad jokes, Michael and Emily holding hands, radiating happiness.

Jessica sat beside Michael, her eyes sparkling, her laughter a little too bright.

She kept refilling his wine glass. Just like before.

"Oh, Michael, you have to try this stuffing with a little more gravy, it's divine!"

"You're so handy around the kitchen, Emily! I can barely boil water."

Every word was a carefully crafted dart, aimed at ingratiating herself.

I watched her, my stomach churning.

This time, however, there was another guest.

Dave.

Michael's old high school buddy. Divorced, with a young daughter he rarely saw. He worked at a local auto repair shop, always seemed short on cash, and had a habit of showing up at our place around dinnertime.

He also had a habit of making sleazy comments about me.

"Sarah's growing up to be a real looker, eh, Mike?" he'd said last Christmas, winking.

My parents couldn't stand him, but Michael was too loyal, too soft-hearted to turn him away.

Tonight, Dave was in his usual form, already on his third beer, his eyes lingering on Jessica's low-cut sweater.

Jessica, to my surprise, seemed to be playing along, laughing at his crude jokes.

Perfect.

As Jessica reached to refill Michael's wine glass yet again, I intercepted.

"Actually, Jess, I think Michael's had enough. He's driving Emily home later."

A small lie. Emily was staying over.

Michael looked surprised but didn't argue.

Jessica's smile tightened for a fraction of a second.

Then I turned to Dave, plastering a bright smile on my face.

"Dave! You look like your glass is empty. Let me get you another beer. And you have to try Mom's candied yams, they're amazing."

Dave's eyes lit up. "Well, if you insist, Sarah!"

I kept his glass full. And then some.

Jessica watched, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes.

Good. Let her wonder.

By the time dessert was served, Dave was slurring his words, his face flushed.

"You Millers... you're good people," he mumbled, swaying slightly. "Best Thanksgiving... ever."

Mom shot me a worried look. Dad was frowning.

"I think Dave might need to crash on the couch tonight," Michael said, looking concerned.

"Nonsense," I said brightly. "We have a guest room. He can sleep it off there."

The guest room. The same one Jessica had used last year.

The same one she'd claimed Michael had entered.

After everyone had gone to bed, or stumbled off in Dave's case, I helped Michael guide a very drunk Dave to the guest room.

It was downstairs, near the back of the house.

"He's really out of it," Michael said, shaking his head as we laid Dave on the bed.

"Yeah, well, he seemed to be enjoying himself," I replied, trying to sound casual.

Then, I went upstairs to Michael and Emily's room.

"Hey, you guys tired?" I asked, poking my head in.

Emily was already half-asleep, curled up against Michael.

"Exhausted," Michael yawned. "That was a lot of food."

"Listen," I said, my voice low. "I'm a little worried about leaving Dave alone downstairs. He's so drunk. And Jessica's in the room next door to yours, right?"

It wasn't. Jessica was in my old room, down the hall from them. But they didn't need to know that.

"What if I just... lock your door from the outside? Just in case. You know, so no one wanders in by mistake." I held up the old skeleton key that fit their door. "I'll unlock it first thing in the morning."

Michael looked at me, a little confused. "Uh, sure, Sarah. If it makes you feel better."

Emily was already asleep.

I smiled. "Great. Sleep tight."

I closed their door softly.

Click. The old lock turned.

My heart was pounding.

I went to my own room, where Jessica was supposedly asleep.

The door was slightly ajar.

I peeked in.

The bed was empty.

A cold dread, mixed with a grim satisfaction, washed over me.

She was on the move.

Just as I'd planned.

I crept back to the top of the stairs, hiding in the shadows.

A floorboard creaked downstairs.

A sliver of light from the hallway.

A figure, cloaked in darkness, tiptoed towards the back of the house.

Towards the guest room.

Towards Dave.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

Phase one, complete.

I went back to my room, locked my own door, and got into bed.

Sleep, however, was a long time coming.