Chapter 9
Even the ghosts go quiet. The chatter around us dies. The only sounds are the sizzle and pop of one of the coffeemakers and the rumble of Samia’s minivan.
Then that cuts off as well.
“Is Malcolm outside?” I ask.
I hope and pray that he is. Malcolm can sweet talk and work his charm. He can convince Samia that all is well; I’m certain of it.
“Actually,” Belinda says, her voice hesitant, “no one’s out front. Well, except for Samia.”
“Where is he?” I say this mostly to myself. It isn’t like Malcolm to wander off in the middle of an infestation this large. It isn’t like him to wander off at all. In fact, I’m surprised he hasn’t been pounding on the doors and windows, trying to get in.
“Maybe something better came along.” Carter. Of course.
Before I can say anything, before Bel
