Page 41 of The Dysfunctional Family's Guide to Murder
Then the light disappears as Dad moves from the side of the house around toward the backyard where we saw the figure, and all I can do is stand with my cheek pressed flat against the glass. I can’t see anything, which is bad, but I also can’t hear anything, which is good because at least it means nobody is getting murdered. Not noisily, anyway.
Then a cloud shifts and there’s enough light from the moon to see a figure walking close to the house, coming toward us.I should have woken someone else in the house. I should have woken everyone in the house. I shouldn’t have let Dad go outside. Mum is going tokillme.
Then the figure comes closer and I see that it’s Dad, walking quickly but not dripping blood or sporting any obvious head wounds.
I meet him at the door. “Did you find them?”
Dad shakes his head. “I didn’t see anyone. I walked all the way around and then back again.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t look disappointed, Ruth. This is a good thing.”
“But I saw someone. I really did.”
“I’m not saying you didn’t. I’m just saying I couldn’t find anyone.”
“Okay.”
“Let’s go back to bed. You too, Dylan. Do I even want to know why you two were prowling around the house at night?”
“I woke him up when I saw someone.” I lie quickly and probably too easily to make me a good person.
“Wakemeup next time” is all Dad says.
I want to ask if he believes me, but just asking the question makes it sound like I’m not sure, and I don’t want Dad to think I got spooked by a shrub waving in the breeze. Also, do I want to know the answer? Dad insists on escorting me back to my room, so there’s no chance to debrief with Dylan before he slopes off back to his.
Back in my bedroom I crawl under the blanket, my heart still beating too fast to make sleep possible. My brain is askingmy eyes if they’re absolutely sure they saw what they saw when I hear the sound of a key being inserted into the keyhole of my door and then the click of it locking me in for the night. It’s both reassuring and scary to consider that Dad might have believed me more than I thought.
14
Someone is banging on mydoor. My first conscious thought is that someone else has died. This is not a crazy idea—GG is not going to be the last victim of this family getaway gone wrong—but when I finally get out of bed and make it to the (now-unlocked) door, I can tell from Dylan’s face that nobody has died. Or, if this is Dylan’ssomeone has diedface, then he’s probably the murderer, because he’sexcited.
“How long have you been out here?” I act like I’m rubbing at the sleep in my eyes, but really I’m trying to avoid breathing in his direction.
“Downstairs.” He’s a little out of breath and still in his pj’s.
“Is everyone okay?” I ask anyway, because, I don’t know, maybe Dylanisa murderer?
“It’s Sasha.”
My brain must be enjoying a power nap after a night crunching the numbers, because it takes me a moment to even remember who Sasha is. “The neighbor?”
“Yeah.”
“He did it?”
“What?”
“Sasha killed GG?”
“No, you idiot: He’s here and he has news.” Dylan is hustling me down the stairs a little faster than I’d like. It would be a real bummer to slip and break my neck before I even get to find out what the news is.
“Slow down.”
“Hurry up.”
We make it to the table, alive, to find Sasha standing with Aunty Bec while Dad pours coffee into a row of waiting mugs. Sasha looks a little startled by the arrival of two semi-breathless teenagers, but recovers quickly.
