Protector - Laurel Dewey [83]
The decision was made. Emily rotated the window open and quietly undid the screen, setting it onto the carpet and out of sight. She crawled out onto the damp roof and pulled the window shut. As she scooted her butt across the wooden shingles, she looked up at the night sky. Emily watched the moon duck behind a bank of clouds. The sound of a car caught her attention. Looking down into the alley, Emily watched the high beams of the patrol car come into view. Even though the sycamore tree obscured her, she flattened her body against the roof until the car rolled past her house.
She sat up as a strong wind blasted across the backyard. Within seconds, the clouds completely obscured the moon’s radiance. Several minutes later, Emily felt the plop-plop of fat raindrops falling on her head. Discouraged, she made her way back up the roof and pulled on the bedroom window. But the window wouldn’t budge. This had happened several times before due to a defect in the window’s rotation bar. The answer? She would crawl down the roof and grab hold of the large sycamore branch that rested against the house. Then, she could creep across the branch and make her way down the tree. Once on terra firma, she would cross to the kitchen door, lift the planter pot that sat by the door and pull out the hidden key. She’d unlock the door, replace the key, walk in, lock the door and sneak back upstairs to her bedroom via the slender kitchen hallway instead of through the living room. It was all so simple and a great plan in Emily’s young mind. If she did everything right, she figured Jane would never know she snuck out of the house.
Crack!
Jane woke up with a start. The sound of an angry wind combined with the fast surge of rain greeted her. She was pissed with herself for falling asleep and checked the nearby clock. Her best guesstimate was that she’d been asleep for less than ten minutes. The house was stonecold quiet—the antithesis of the fury that whirled outside the window. But something didn’t feel right to Jane. Jane got off the couch and walked to the bottom of the stairs. She stared up at Emily’s bedroom and the closed door before ascending the stairs.
Outside, Emily carefully inched down the roof and crawled onto the sycamore branch. Like a skilled climber, she maneuvered her body down the branch, slid onto the lower branches and finally jumped the few feet to the wet lawn. As she hit the earth, the sky opened up and released an enormous torrent of rain. Her denim jumper quickly became soaked as she crossed to the back door. The kitchen light was turned off. Emily craned her neck to see if she could detect Jane’s location. Unfortunately, her diminutive height prevented her from fully canvassing the entire area. She uncovered the hidden key from underneath the planter and quietly unlocked the door.
Jane arrived at Emily’s bedroom door. “Emily?” she said softly. “Are you asleep?” No answer. Jane opened the door. She was immediately greeted by the eerie shadow play of cutout stars across the walls and ceiling that emanated from the bedside lamp. “Emily?” she said with an edge of concern. Jane flicked on the overhead light. “Emily!” Jane lunged for the closet and threw open the door. “Emily!” She dropped to the floor and looked under the bed. Her heart pounded and her breathing became labored. A million thoughts raced through her head, none of them pleasant. Her head spun so frantically that Jane failed to see the window screen leaning against the wall underneath the unruly window.
Crack!
Jane turned quickly toward the sound. She leaned her head outside the bedroom door. “Emily?” No response.
Emily made it through the kitchen in the darkness when she realized she forgot to replace the hidden key. Cautiously, she walked back to the door