THREE DAYS BEFORE

CHAPTER ONE

3:17 A.M.

The first thing Mara noticed was the cold.

Not the ordinary kind that came from sleeping under an air conditioner. This cold had weight to it. It pressed against her skin and seemed to have settled beneath it.

She opened her eyes.

For several seconds, she didn't move.

The ceiling above her was a pale blur. Her bedroom. Her curtains. The narrow strip of streetlight that always slipped through the gap between them.

Everything was where it should have been.

Then she tried to move her right hand.

Something sticky pulled against her fingers.

Mara frowned.

She reached for her phone on the bedside table.

The screen lit up.

3:17 A.M.

For one strange second, she wondered why the time frightened her.

Then the light caught her fingers.

They were red.

Mara stopped breathing.

She stared at her hand.

Blood had dried between her fingers and around the edges of her nails. There was more across the heel of her palm, dark and tacky now. Her thumb was smeared with something almost black.

"No."

The word barely escaped her lips.

She pulled herself upright.

Her white shirt was stained.

Not a little.

Irregular patches covered the front, concentrated around her stomach and chest. Some had dried brown at the edges. Others were still wet enough to shine beneath the light of her phone.

Mara stared down at herself.

Her breathing became shallow.

She couldn't remember putting the shirt on.

She couldn't remember going to bed.

She couldn't remember anything after—

Elena.

The name appeared suddenly in her mind.

Mara closed her eyes.

A restaurant.

Warm yellow lights.

A glass of water sweating onto a paper coaster.

Elena sitting opposite her.

Crying.

No.

Not crying.

Trying not to cry.

Mara opened her eyes.

"Elena?"

Silence.

She looked toward the bedroom door.

It was open.

She was almost certain she'd closed it.

Something about the room felt wrong.

Mara lowered her feet toward the floor.

The moment her right foot touched it, she pulled back.

Something was beneath it.

Wet.

She looked down.

A footprint.

Bare.

Red.

Her stomach turned.

There were more.

A trail crossed the floor from beside her bed toward the bedroom door.

One footprint.

Then another.

Then another.

They were hers.

She could tell from their shape.

She had apparently walked through blood.

"No. No, no, no."

Her phone vibrated.

Mara nearly dropped it.

UNKNOWN NUMBER

One message appeared.

DON'T TURN ON THE LIGHT.

She stared at the screen.

Another message arrived.

HE CAN SEE YOU.

Mara slowly looked toward the ceiling.

Nothing.

Then toward the window.

Nothing.

The curtains moved slightly.

There was no breeze.

Her phone vibrated again.

MARA, WHATEVER YOU DO, DON'T LOOK UNDER THE BED.

She stopped breathing.

Her eyes moved toward the darkness beneath the bed.

She couldn't see anything.

That was worse.

The room was so quiet she could hear the refrigerator humming from the kitchen downstairs.

Then—

Scratch.

Mara froze.

Another sound.

A faint dragging noise beneath the bed.

Scratch.

Something was under there.

She clamped a hand over her mouth.

Her phone buzzed again.

She didn't look at it.

The scratching stopped.

For several seconds, there was nothing.

Then—

Knock.

Mara's eyes widened.

Knock.

A third knock followed.

Knock.

Three slow knocks against the underside of the mattress.

Mara stumbled backward.

Her shoulder struck the wall.

The phone slipped from her hand and landed on the floor.

Its screen remained illuminated.

The message stared back at her.

NOW YOU REMEMBER.

"I don't."

Her voice cracked.

"I don't remember."

A sound came from beneath the bed.

Not scratching this time.

Breathing.

Slow.

Wet.

Mara's eyes filled with tears.

She wanted to scream, but some instinct told her not to.

She looked toward the bedroom door.

The hallway beyond it was completely dark.

She could stay.

Or she could run.

The decision came before she had time to think.

She ran.

She didn't bother with shoes.

Her bare feet slapped against the cold floor as she crossed the hallway. Blood left faint marks behind her.

She reached the staircase and nearly fell.

Her hand caught the railing.

Pain shot through her palm.

She looked down.

A shallow cut ran across the base of her thumb.

She didn't remember getting it.

She kept moving.

Downstairs.

The front door.

The lock wouldn't turn.

For one horrible second, Mara thought someone had locked her inside.

She tried again.

The deadbolt shifted.

She yanked the door open.

Rain hit her face.

Cold.

Heavy.

Real.

Mara stumbled onto the porch and sucked in a breath.

The street was empty.

No cars.

No people.

Just rain shining beneath the streetlights.

She ran.

She didn't know where she was going.

She only knew she had to get away from the house.

Away from the bedroom.

Away from whatever had been beneath her bed.

Her feet burned.

Gravel cut into her soles.

She barely felt it.

A car passed at the end of the street.

Mara turned toward it.

"Help!"

The car didn't stop.

She kept running.

Her lungs hurt. Her wet shirt clung to her skin. The blood on her hands had begun to wash away, running pink between her fingers.

She looked over her shoulder.

The house was still there.

Her bedroom window was visible on the second floor.

The curtains were open now.

Mara stopped.

Someone was standing behind the glass.

Her breath caught.

A figure.

Too far away to see the face.

Too still to be a reflection.

Mara stared.

The figure lifted one hand.

Not waving.

Pointing.

Down.

Toward her.

Mara turned and ran.

She didn't look back.

She made it two blocks before headlights appeared.

A police vehicle slowed beside her.

The passenger window came down.

"Miss?"

Mara stumbled toward it.

"Please."

The officer stepped out.

He looked young, perhaps early thirties, wearing a rain-darkened uniform.

"Are you hurt?"

Mara tried to answer.

Nothing came.

His eyes moved to her bare feet.

Then her clothes.

Then her hands.

His expression changed.

"Ma'am, what's your name?"

"Mara."

"Mara what?"

"Vale."

He reached for his radio.

Mara grabbed his sleeve.

"Don't take me home."

He looked at her.

"Why?"

She glanced toward the road behind her.

"I think someone was in my house."

"Did you see them?"

"No."

A pause.

"Are you sure?"

Mara swallowed.

"I heard them."

The officer studied her for a moment.

Then he asked, "Where do you live?"

She gave him the address.

He repeated it into the radio.

Something about the way he said it made her nervous.

"Why are you asking?"

"We need to make sure you're safe."

"Is someone there?"

He didn't answer.

His radio crackled.

The officer listened.

Mara watched his face.

She could tell something had changed.

"What?"

He lowered the radio.

"Miss Vale..."

"What?"

He hesitated.

Then said, "Where is Elena?"

Mara stared at him.

"What?"

"Elena Hart."

Her stomach dropped.

"I don't understand."

The officer looked at her carefully.

"Isn't she your friend?"

"Yes."

"When was the last time you saw her?"

Mara opened her mouth.

The answer should have been easy.

She saw Elena tonight.

Didn't she?

The restaurant.

The warm lights.

The glass of water.

Elena's face.

Something she had been trying to say.

Mara pressed her fingers against her temple.

"I..."

The memory slipped away.

She could see Elena's face.

She could see her mouth moving.

But the words were gone.

"I saw her earlier."

"When?"

"I don't know."

The officer stared at her.

Mara's heartbeat became painfully loud.

"What happened to her?"

He didn't answer.

"Officer."

He looked away.

That was when Mara understood.

Something had happened.

Something terrible.

"No."

"Mara—"

"No."

Her voice rose.

"What happened to Elena?"

The officer stepped closer.

"We found a woman tonight."

Mara shook her head.

"No."

"Behind the old cinema."

"No."

"She was—"

"Don't."

Mara covered her ears.

The officer stopped.

Rain ran down her face, mixing with tears.

She didn't want to hear it.

Because somewhere inside her, beneath the panic and confusion, a part of her already knew.

The officer spoke quietly.

"Mara."

She lowered her hands.

He looked directly at her.

"It's Elena."

Everything inside her went still.

The street seemed to tilt.

Mara stared at him.

"She's dead."

The words didn't make sense.

Not at first.

Then they did.

Her knees weakened.

The officer caught her before she hit the pavement.

And as he held her upright, Mara noticed something on the inside of her left wrist.

A tiny smear of blood.

Beneath it, almost hidden by the rain, were four words written in black ink.

YOU WERE THERE, MARA.