Love Can Be Murder

fence, and squeezed through again. By now she was bleeding, but adrenaline kept her moving forward. Darkness had fallen quickly, and here among the trees, the air was as black as India ink. Her old phobia nagged at her—the boogey man came out after dark, along with other, more tangible evils. If she hadn't traveled this path so many times, she wouldn't have been able to find her way. Finally she burst through the foliage and onto the path that ran alongside the house, where she had run into Deke only a few days ago.
    In her mind, she was plotting the quickest way to the cupola. She had been there once, years ago, before it was boarded up. Hazel had allowed her to go up and look out over the town, but the structure had been crumbling even then. Penny reasoned the lower-level windows would have security alarms, but she remembered a second-story window that she might be able to climb to if only she had a flashlight.
    Then she realized she was wearing the black coat she'd been wearing when she and B.J. had explored the pink Victorian. She shoved her hand in her pocket and was almost giddy to find the penlight B.J. had given her. She strapped on the garden tool belt, and, holding the penlight in her mouth, she did a chin up (thank you, Pilates) to pull herself up to sit on the windowsill, holding her breath while she tried to raise it. It wouldn't budge; with the penlight, she could see that the closure on the inside was secure. But one of the panes was loose, and after a bit of pressure, she was able to slip it out, then reach in and open the window from the inside.
    She was in the animal exhibit room, she realized when she dropped to the floor. The stuffed and resin animals seemed more sinister in the dark, especially when her penlight made their eyes glow with a greenish cast. She took a few seconds to orient herself and calm her breathing, then she took a step toward the hallway. But she knocked over an animal, falling with it. In the process, she managed to trigger some kind of automatic recording of animals screeching and cawing, which blasted into the air. Panicked, she felt for an off button, and finally found an electrical cord, which she yanked from the wall. Suddenly, all was quiet again, except for the sound of her own labored breathing. And...
    She closed her eyes so she could focus on the sound.
    A faint pounding noise way above her, as if someone was...stomping their feet?
    Spurred into action, she found the stairway to the third floor, then made her way up to the attic—she would have to go through it to reach the cupola. The attic door had been padlocked, but after several minutes of sawing, she was able to cut through it with a large pair of garden shears. The door led to a set of dusty stairs and up to an enormous room that was as big as the main part of the house. But the attic, like so much of the old mansion, had fallen into disrepair, and her penlight was becoming dim. She had taken only a couple of steps when the wood beneath her foot gave way and she fell through to her ankle. She cried out, but mostly in surprise. She freed herself, shed the weighty tool belt, shoved a small pair of shears into her coat pocket, and pressed forward, testing boards before putting her weight down.
    When she reached the door that led to the cupola, she was met with another padlock. This one was thicker and would be harder for her to saw through with her small, dulled shears. She pounded on the door three times and put her ear up to it.
    After a few seconds, she heard a distinct thump, thump, thump. She gasped—someone was there. The knowledge made her almost frantic to cut through the padlock. When the small shears were exhausted, she went back to get her tool belt and the larger shears, which made the trip back over the rotted floors more precarious. By the time she had cut through the padlock, her hands were blistered and bleeding. She swung open the door, her heart thudding in anticipation. The door opened into a cool blackness, a stone hallway of sorts that led to the cupola. The scurry of dozens of feet told her that many rats were about. She swallowed hard.
    "My name is Penny," she said into the darkness. "I'm here to help you. Where are you?"
    Muffled noises sounded, and she used the penlight to find her way, almost hysterical now. Suddenly she tripped over something and fell...onto a person. The penlight went flying. She cried out, and the person beneath her struggled, making muted sounds. Penny scrambled