Kevin O'Brien - Disturbed

“Rachel Cross?” a woman asked.

Molly stopped in her tracks. She recognized that raspy, demented singsong delivery.

“Rachel, you’ll be sorry you ever moved onto that block… you stupid bitch.”

There was a click, and then a beep.

“End of messages,” announced a mechanical voice.

“What the hell?” Rachel said. “Who was that?”

“My, God, she’s calling you, too,” Molly murmured. A hand over her mouth, she moved toward the answering machine on the counter. “How — how long has this been going on?”

Rachel shook her head. “This is the first time. Why? Do you know this nut job?

“No, but she’s phoned me a few times — and said things.”

“ ‘Said things’? Well, that’s vague enough. What kind of things?”

Molly couldn’t look at her. “Mostly stuff about my brother,” she lied. She didn’t want to admit this horrible woman had caught Jeff in a lie about where he’d been the night of Angela’s murder.

“Well, I’m just going to star-six-nine her ass,” Rachel said, reaching for the phone.

“Don’t bother, the number’s blocked,” Molly said.

Rachel took her hand away from the phone and stared at her.

“Could you play the message back?” Molly asked. “Maybe if I hear her again, I’ll recognize her voice. She’s never actually left me a message. I didn’t think she’d risk having her voice recorded. She must be getting bolder.”

Rachel reached over and pressed a button on the answering machine. The Comcast lady came on, and Rachel quickly pushed another button to skip over it.

“Rachel Cross?”

Molly listened to that creepy voice, trying to discern if it sounded familiar. She blankly stared at the breakfast nook — until suddenly something moved past the window.

“Rachel, you’ll be sorry you ever moved onto that block… you stupid bitch.”

Molly spotted a man in a hooded sweatshirt. He seemed to have come from the woods at the edge of Rachel’s backyard. It looked as if he was about to walk right up to the house.

Rachel must have spotted him, too, because she suddenly let out a shriek.

The hooded man took off — toward Molly’s backyard.

Rachel frantically stabbed at the buttons on the answering machine to shut it off. “Oh, Jesus, where’d he go?” She grabbed the phone. “Did you see him? I’m calling the police!”

All Molly could think about was Erin alone in the basement, and that man heading toward her house. She ran for the front door.

“Molly, wait!” Rachel called after her. “For God’s sake, don’t go out there!”

She flew out the front door, and raced across the lawn. The door was unlocked. She hadn’t thought there would be any need to lock it. She’d been gone such a short time. Molly flung open the door and ran up the front hallway to the kitchen.

Then she saw him. The hooded man was poised outside the family room’s sliding glass door. He violently tugged at the handle. Molly could hear it rattle.

“Get out of here!” she screamed, without thinking. She spun around and fumbled for a large knife from the rack on the kitchen counter.

The rattling became louder, then stopped abruptly.

Molly swiveled around again with the knife in her shaky hand.

But the man was gone.

Natalie What’s-Her-Name quietly argued with one of the cops.

They’d pulled her car over, and now her slightly battered blue Mini Cooper was parked in front of Molly’s house. Everyone on the block had gathered at the end of the driveway while the police combed the area for the man with the hooded sweatshirt. Lynette had been at the hospital all day. Jill was babysitting Dakota and Carson. Both kids — along with Jill’s son, Darren — had been fascinated by the police presence on their block. But now the novelty was wearing off, and they were starting to hit and poke each other. Molly held Erin’s hand, while Rachel whispered to her that right now, she had sixty dollars’ worth of frozen food thawing out on her kitchen counter.

Four patrol cars had shown up, and a total of six cops were checking around each home to make sure there was no sign of a breakin. The two old skeletons of half-finished homes were getting the once-over, too. Jill wanted one of the cops to accompany her back inside her house — just to double-check and be safe.

Natalie must have misunderstood, and thought they were about to do a search inside each residence. “I can’t let you just barge in there!” she argued to a stocky, blond, babyfaced cop. Her voice was shrill. She wore jeans and a white top that seemed too big for her. Though pretty, she was way too thin. Standing this close to her, Molly noticed that her teeth were grayish. “I’m house-sitting for these people, and I’d need to check with the owners before I let anyone inside.”

Molly wondered what the hell she was talking about. She and Jeff had joked about how Natalie should have installed a revolving door in the Nguyens’ house to accommodate all the guys who dropped in — at all hours. And some of them looked rather seedy, too.

“We’re just checking the grounds, ma’am,” the cop assured her.

“Well, why can’t I go home right now? Why are you holding me here?”

Because the police want to make sure you don’t end up in one of the Nguyens’ closets with your throat slit , Molly wanted to say. But she kept quiet.

“Daddy’s home!” Erin declared. She started waving at Jeff’s silver Lexus as it crawled up the cul-de-sac.

Molly knew he must have been alarmed to come home from work to see four police cars on the block — and most of his neighbors standing at the end of his driveway. He pulled over in front of Natalie’s Mini Cooper.

“Erin, stay with Rachel for a minute,” Molly said.

Rachel took her hand. “C’mon, cutie pie, keep me company.”

Molly stepped around to Jeff’s side of the Lexus as he opened the door. “Everyone’s okay,” she said under her breath. “We had a prowler. He came out of the woods into Rachel’s backyard and tried to get into our place through the sliding glass doors. But I scared him off. I told Erin this is just a police drill. I didn’t want to worry her.”

“Oh, Jesus,” he murmured, hugging her. “You sure you’re okay?”

She gratefully held on to him. “Yeah, just a little shaken up.”

He kissed her, and Molly kissed him back. Jeff loosened his tie and slung his arm around her, and they started toward the others.

But he suddenly stopped dead and pulled his arm away. He stared at everyone gathered at the end of the driveway. Molly realized, to Jeff, most of them were strangers. “I don’t think you’ve met a couple of our neighbors, have you?” she said. “Jeff, this is Natalie. . and from next door, Rachel.”

Natalie looked him up and down for a moment. Then she turned to the police officer. “May I go inside my house now?” she muttered.

The cop nodded wearily, and Natalie retreated to her car.

“We haven’t formally met yet either, Jeff,” said Jill with a pinched smile. She put her hands on her chubby son’s shoulders. “I was a friend of Angela’s. I was at the funeral, but never got the opportunity to give you my condolences. And this is my son, Darren. Darren, say hello to Mr. Dennehy.”

“Hello,” the kid muttered.

Jeff didn’t respond at all. He glanced over at Natalie’s Mini Cooper as it pulled down the cul-de-sac toward the Nguyens’ driveway.

Just then, Erin broke away from Rachel. She ran up to Jeff and hugged him around the legs. He patted her on the head. He gazed at Jill and her son, and nodded.

“Hi, Jeff,” Rachel said, coming to him, ready to shake his hand.