The Never List

small side table from the entryway, not ready to be fully enclosed in there, and then led the way down the hallway, fighting all the while to keep myself from hyperventilating. My pulse was racing, and that old familiar dizzinesswas creeping in. I knew, though, that for everyone’s sake, I needed to keep it under control.
    I went down the hall and stood for a moment alone in front of the double doors to the library. If anything relevant was hidden in this house, I knew it would be in that room, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready to face it.
    I put my hand in my pocket, reaching for Jennifer’s picture. I clutched it. I could feel it crinkle up in my fist. I might be damaging it, but I needed to draw a kind of physical strength from it now, to let the ink from that image soak into my fingertips and bring Jennifer closer to me. I slid the door open slowly, hoping I could take in the room in bits and pieces, easing into it.
    The first thing I saw was the rack, still there in the corner.
    Tracy’s voice was right in my ear behind me. “Ugh, why didn’t they take that freaking thing out of here?”
    “The room seems so much smaller,” Christine said softly.
    “That makes a lot of sense,” began Adele. “This room won’t have the same power for—”
    “Shut up, Adele,” Tracy and Christine said in unison.
    Adele shut up. We all stepped into the room and stared up at the bookshelves, which ran up to the top of the double-height ceiling. The books were still there. Thousands of them.
    I walked over to the heavy oak desk, with its roll top and its dark green blotter. It was expensive, clearly. Jack’s adoptive family had not wanted for money, and neither had Jack.
    In the dead center of the blotter lay an unmarked envelope. I lifted it up. It was sealed. The others came over to see what I’d found, Tracy and Christine carefully avoiding touching the rack as they made their way to my side.
    “Should I open it?” I looked at them.
    “Why not?” said Adele. “We’ve already broken and entered.”
    “We didn’t have to break anything,” reminded Christine, “andsince he never wanted us to leave in the first place, I feel like we have full guest privileges.”
    I broke the seal of the envelope and slid the paper out, then unfolded it slowly. There, in Jack’s writing, in clear bold letters, were the words Welcome home.
    I dropped the paper as though it were on fire.
    At that same moment we heard a door slam, hard, from the hall. The door we had come in. The door I’d propped open.
    We all jumped to our feet and quietly pressed ourselves to the library wall. Tracy was in front, closest to the door. We listened, but I heard only our own breathing.
    Tracy peered around the corner. No one could have gone farther into the house without passing the library door. She motioned for us to follow her, as she edged out of the room.
    There was no one there. If someone had been in here, he’d gone back outside after slamming the door shut. But why?
    Tracy made her way over and grabbed the doorknob, this time forgetting about prints. And then we understood. It was locked from the outside.
    “What the fuck??” she shouted, as she banged on the door, to no effect.
    “No way. There is no way we can be locked in this house. NO. WAY,” said Christine, shaking.
    “Let’s stay calm,” I said. “There are a million windows, and I have my cell.” I pulled it out of my pocket and held it up. Only there were no bars in the upper-right-hand corner of the screen. In my crazed state, I’d failed to check it. “Except there’s no signal.”
    “Too far up the mountain,” said Adele. “That makes sense around here. Shit.”
    I raced from room to room, peering out the windows. There was no one in sight. But the house was surrounded by dense woods.There were plenty of places for someone to hide if they were keeping an eye on us. Or planning something worse.
    Adele walked into the kitchen and tried opening the windows. They were sealed shut. The locks would not turn. She pulled open cabinets and drawers and finally found in a closet a broom with a heavy wooden handle. In a sudden frenzy, she started beating on the windows in the kitchen. Glass broke and flew around the room. We shielded our eyes and backed out of the way as Adele struck again and again. She was surprisingly strong.
    Tracy, staring at Adele in her fury, bent down, protecting her face with her hands, and leaned over to me to whisper, “Maybe I was wrong