Carissa swallowed hard, sweeping the light around her. She had less than an eighth of a mile to go, and here she was acting like a 'fraidy cat. She brought the small circle of light back to the muddy track as she stepped forward again.

What was all the fuss about with Justin anyway? So he was weird. Nothing new. He wasn't the only weird person in their family; he was just acting a little weirder lately. His habits were always making them late to church, late to school. It was embarrassing. This morning she'd counted the number of times he'd checked the front door to make sure it was locked before they left for school. Seven. Same as yesterday. Monday it had been fourteen. Probably to make up for missing his counting process Sunday morning, since they hadn't gone to church.

And she was getting sick of him turning out all the lights in the house at night before everyone went to bed. Last night she was in the bathroom brushing her teeth when he turned out the light on her, and when Carissa shouted at him, Dad got onto her. It wasn't fair.

She shifted the business ledger under her arm. If she dropped it in this mud, Dad would freak. He didn't like his stuff dirty. He and her cousin Jill were probably already wondering what was taking her so long, even though the whole family knew she was doing research on the history of the Cooper sawmill and the deaths ten years ago that nobody would talk about. She could get a good grade on this report if she could dig up enough information, but did they care? No. What she wanted never mattered.

This morning had been the worst thing yet, when Mom had called and Dad wouldn't let her talk to Carissa or Justin. Then Dad had freaked when Carissa picked up the extension. How could he pretend Mom never existed? Sure, Mom had been a jerk, but she was their mother. How could kids be kept from seeing their own mother?

That sound again — that thump of something heavy hitting wet earth in a slow rhythm. Horsewalk.

"Gypsy, is that you?" Her mare wasn't supposed to be in the front pasture, but sometimes she jumped the fence.

Carissa shuffled the ledger beneath her arm to keep it from sliding out of her sweaty hand. It continued to slide. She grabbed for it and dropped the flashlight straight into a gooey puddle. The splatter of mud startled her. The darkness seemed to attack her with glee.

"Stop it, stupid," she muttered to herself, reaching into the puddle.