Der Schädelring: Thriller (German Edition)

habit she tried the knob.
    It turned easily in her hand.
    The latch clicked back like the hammer of a gun, like the final beat of a heart.
    Had she forgotten to lock the door, even after that first scare with Walter?
    Impossible.
    One thing Julia Stone never failed to do was to lock the door. That was Rule Number One for keeping Creeps out of the house. Unless, of course, they snuck in behind you, as Mitchell had.
    Or were already inside.
    Julia stood, frozen with her hand on the doorknob.
    She replayed the scene in her mind of leaving for the trip. Suitcase at your feet, slam door, insert key, turn, click. Check to make sure.
    Yes, she had locked it.
    Walter could be inside, doing some kind of repair.
    Or it could be The Creep. The one who may have left a row of wooden blocks across the coffee table a few days ago.
    Because you KNOW you didn't put them there, don't you?
    Don't you?
    The autumn wind rattled the undergrowth. The branches that had been comforting moments before were now like the gnarled arms of wooden witches. Julia fumbled for the mace on her key ring, fingered the spray nozzle. If a rapist were waiting inside, she would give it to him full in the eyes, give him all the punishment she should have dished out to Mitchell. If it happened in the bedroom, she had the Louisville Slugger under the bed.
    Or . . .
    She glanced longingly at her car. She could get in, drive away, call the cops from the safety of a gas station.
    And maybe Lieutenant T.L. Snead would get the dispatcher's call. The Snead of unsolved cases, the Snead of coincidence.
    No. She would not run this time. She would not let someone invade her house. Or mind.
    She pushed the door a few inches, and it creaked like the lid of a wooden coffin. Fine hairs twitched like electric wires on the back of her neck. She tried to inhale but couldn't concentrate on a relaxing breath.
    Sweating in the chill night, Julia peered through the narrow crack.
    Nothing but dark inside. Deep and endless dark, the kind of dark that jumped out and sank its claws into you, sharp dark, the kind that—
    Stop it, Julia.
    Her hands trembled.
    A phone rang in one of the neighboring apartments. It purred faintly six times and stopped. Someone revved a car engine in the housing development that stood behind the wall of woods. A dog's bark echoed across the black hills. The sounds of normal life.
    She gripped the mace and shoved the door open with her shoulder, half-expecting the flash of an arcing blade. With her left hand, she reached across her body and raked her fingers across the wall switch. The lights burst to life like exploding stars.
    The room was empty.
    Julia went around the hall, her purse against her side, one hand holding the spray can of mace, the other clenched into a fist. Nobody in the kitchen. She kicked open the bathroom door.
    Movement erupted along one wall. Julia's forefinger tightened on the mace nozzle. A grunt died against her teeth before it became a scream.
    Just her reflection, in the mirror above the sink.
    Julia flipped on the light, eyed the shower curtain. No Creep would be that unimaginative, would he?
    She reached out, touched the plastic, yanked it across the rod, mace poised. Nothing but the fiberglass stall.
    Heart racing, Julia spun and returned to the hall. Only one room left to check.
    Of course. Her bedroom.
    The ultimate violation, that of the inner sanctum.
    The door opened with a whisper. A breeze blew across the room. The window was open.
    Go back now, girl. It's okay. No one can blame you for being scared. This isn't just your disorder speaking. It's ME.
    Sure, she could flee. She could surrender.
    Just like always.
    She clenched her jaw and stepped inside. The first thing she saw was the clock, numerals blazing like the reddest of hellfire against the darkness.
    4:06.
    If she were holding a gun instead of a spray can of mace, she would have emptied the cartridge into that digital demon to exorcise the obscenity of its frozen time.
    She could no longer fool herself that no one had been here, that she'd only forgotten to lock the door and left the window open and, gee, what an absentminded little thing she was.
    No, some Creep had waltzed in, removed the clock from her trash, restored its strange programming, and left it as a message to Julia.
    A message that he could get in any time, no matter how many locks she held keys for.
    Why would a Creep advertise? If he wanted to jump her, he could wait in the dark wings for his