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I sat back down, slid an elastic off my wrist, and pulled my long blond hair up into a ponytail. With love, of course, because we're best friends. “Can we get back to it, please?”ĭarcy gave me the stink eye. And fourth, I like to try to figure out the ending. Third, it's ten thousand times better than those sleep-inducing astronomy documentaries you watch. It's my favorite detective show, Crime Scene: New York. “First off,” she began, “it's not horror. Her entire wardrobe was black and purple. You'll have nightmares.”ĭarcy ran her hand through the purple streak in her short black hair, which matched her outfit. “You shouldn't be watching those horror shows anyway. “Norah! It's just getting to the good part!” Darcy protested. “Will you shut that thing off?” I said, looking over Darcy's shoulder. She stepped forward, one hand reaching out for the doorknob, and —

A floorboard squeak, followed by the rattle of a hanger, told her that something — or someone — was in the closet. But the woman with the wire-rimmed glasses paused and tilted her head to the side. The killer held his breath and huddled in the back of the darkened closet, hoping not to be found.