Quiet in Her Bones Singh, Nalini (the top 100 crime novels of all time .txt) 📖

outside with her while Calvin and I go inside to check everything is okay?” I’d seen my sister playing with Princess before, knew the poodle was no danger to her.

Even now, a distressed Princess was nuzzling into Pari’s petting hand and trying to get closer to her. I hoped Pari wouldn’t notice the blood on the dog’s coat, especially once I’d coaxed Princess down the steps and a little bit into the shadows, so Pari could sit in an outdoor chair.

By then, Calvin had used the key to unlock the door.

Slowly pushing it open, he listened. “No alarm.” A whisper.

To my surprise, he waited for me to join him before entering the ­house—­but then again, Calvin was a prominent man. He probably wanted to ensure he had a witness to whatever was going on so nothing could blow back on him.

Bloody streaks marred the kitchen floor. Two thin lines about the size of Princess’s paws. “Someone dragged Princess outside.”

“I’m calling the police.” Calvin held his hand out for my phone. “This much blood is serious.”

After passing over the phone, I began to move farther into the house even as he motioned for me to stay put. “What if someone’s hurt?” I said.

I probably should’ve been scared, but my fear reflex had never been strong. Behind me, Calvin gave the emergency dispatcher the ­details—­what little we knew.

Exiting the kitchen, I found myself at the foot of a flight of stairs that led to the upstairs bedrooms. It’d take a long time for me to get up those stairs. Better I check the living area first, then make the attempt.

It proved the right call.

Alice was wearing fleece pajama bottoms and a plain black tank top, her hair up in a loose twist. Like some women wore it when they weren’t quite going to bed, but heading that way. Maybe to brush their teeth, or take off makeup.

I couldn’t tell if Alice was wearing any makeup though, because blood smeared her swollen face. I couldn’t tell if she was breathing, either, and it’d be all but impossible to get back up if I slid my body onto the floor. She wasn’t lying near a sofa or anything else I could use to brace myself.

“Calvin!”

Thundering feet. “Oh, shit.” Racing to Alice’s side, he pressed his fingers to her neck.

One long second.

Another.

“She has a pulse.”

A tinny voice from the phone told me he still had the dispatcher on the line.

“Tell them we’re going to need an ambulance,” I said. “Maybe more than one.”

“Here.” He thrust up the phone and I grabbed it. “I don’t see any signs of spinal injury, so I’m going to move Alice into the recovery position in case she’s got blood in her mouth.”

So she wouldn’t choke.

After relaying what we’d found to the dispatcher, I said, “I’m going to check if the others in the house are safe.” I didn’t bother to wait to hear if they’d prefer I didn’t go wandering. Leaving the phone near Calvin while he tried to do what he could for Alice, I headed upstairs.

The climb wasn’t as bad as I’d feared. My foot was healing.

Not that I’d be up to running marathons anytime soon.

Teeth gritted, I took it step after step. Turned out insisting on having my old bedroom at my father’s house had been good practice.

My instinct was to go straight to Elei’s room at the end of the hallway, but my ­brain—­indoctrinated by endless crime dramas on ­TV—­insisted I check the other rooms first.

Fuck the dramas.

I headed to Elei’s room, following the light that spilled from the open door, my crutches leaving depressions in the thick carpet that filled up in my wake.

Empty bed. No one on the floor.

Backtracking, I began to nudge open the other doors.

Boy band posters on the walls, photos wedged in around a white vanity mirror, floral sheets on a king single bed.

Manaia’s room. Nowhere for anyone to hide.

The next door exposed a set of tasteful velvet armchairs in front of a large window, and a ­generous-­size bed covered with white-­on-­white embroidered sheets. Had to be the master bedroom.

Walking in, I saw quickly that it was empty.

I checked the walk-­in closet, as well as the attached bathroom and toilet just in case, but all proved empty. Neither did I find Elei or Cora in what looked to be a home office, or in the spare bedroom by the stairs.

Sweat starting to bead along my forehead, I went to open the door of what I figured must be another toilet or bathroom. It wouldn’t budge. I tried again without success. It wasn’t that something was keeping it shut from the other ­side—­it was that the door seemed locked. I banged on it, listened.

Was it my imagination or was someone moaning back there?

Bending as much as possible, I looked at the door handle and saw it had one of those tiny little twist things you could use to open up the door from the outside if a child accidentally locked themselves in. It couldn’t be used to lock an adult ­in—­unless you’d destroyed the unlocking mechanism on the other ­side … or someone had locked themselves in on purpose.

I began to search my pockets. I needed something small and thin enough to fit into the tiny slot so I could twist it open.

No coins in my pocket, not even a stray paper clip.

Giving up on that option, I made my way back into the master bedroom and to the vanity, where I’d spotted the shine of jewelry and possibly money. All of the coins proved too big to fit in that slot. Then I saw a bracelet with small dangling discs on it.

The discs might just be thin enough.

I returned to the locked door as fast as possible, which wasn’t exactly cheetah speed. The little gold disc fit. I twisted left, the rhyme my mother had taught me playing in my head: Lefty loosey, righty tighty.

A distinct clicking sound.

Success!

It was only as I pushed the door open that it struck me