Chapter 5
For a beat they both froze, staring at each other in silence – though Mary’s heart was pounding so wildly, she’d be surprised if the intruder couldn’t hear it. She was backing away, looking around frantically for a weapon, when he spoke.
‘Can I help you?’
She stopped in her tracks, startled. His voice was muffled by his mask, but she was pretty sure that was what he’d said. He was polite for a home invader, she’d give him that.
‘I… um… I think you’re in the wrong house,’ she said, dredging up a memory of a woman she’d seen on a talk show explaining how she’d dealt with an intruder.
‘You’re probably looking for the O’Sullivans.
Why don’t I show you…’ She tried to appear confident and unperturbed as she stepped past him and beckoned him to follow her to the door.
He’d obviously thought the house was empty, so this situation would be as tricky for him as it was for her, and he’d be glad to be given a way out.
She could get rid of him, and he wouldn’t be provoked into escalating his crime by attacking her: win-win.
Halfway across the living room, she turned to find he wasn’t following her. Instead he folded his arms and planted his feet apart, standing his ground. ‘I think you’re the one in the wrong house,’ he said.
Her family’s absence suddenly seemed a lot more sinister. She moved behind the sofa, clutching its back and using it as a shield. ‘Who are you and what are you doing here?’
The man reared back as if the question offended him. ‘I might ask you the same thing. Why are you here?’
‘Me?’ Her voice came out as a pathetic squeak, her fingers tightening on the back of the sofa. ‘I live here.’
He shook his head. ‘No, you don’t.’
Should she cut her losses and make a run for it?
But then he’d instinctively chase her. Instead, she backed slowly towards the door of the living room, keeping her eyes on him and trying to take in what details she could so she could describe him to the police.
She realised now that he wasn’t wearing a mask, but he had a beanie pulled low on his forehead and a scarf covering his mouth and nose, so that only his eyes were visible.
His clothes were expensive – navy North Face jacket, chunky Timberland boots…
even the beanie had a designer logo. He must be very successful at what he did, or maybe he was one of those gentleman thieves you got in old movies.
Did they exist in real life? In this day and age?
Since he didn’t seem prepared to take the way out she was offering, she’d have to try reasoning with him. ‘Look, if you just go now, I promise I won’t call the police or anything. Just go.’ She waved towards the back door.
‘You want me to leave?’ He made it sound like a ludicrous suggestion.
She nodded. ‘Yes, right this minute.’ She tried to push some authority behind the words.
‘And where do you propose I go?’
‘Oh. Right.’ She relaxed a little. So maybe he wasn’t a burglar at all, just a homeless person looking for somewhere warm to spend the night.
‘Okay,’ she said, holding her hands up, palms open in a calming gesture.
‘I have some money in my purse upstairs. You can have it. I don’t have much cash on me, but it should be enough to get a place for a couple of nights at least.’
‘I’ve already got a place,’ he said. ‘I’m staying here.’
‘No you’re not!’ she said more forcefully, anger at his attitude edging out her fear. ‘You can’t just go around breaking into people’s houses and demanding to stay even when you’ve been caught. I’m giving you the chance to walk away. You should take it.’
‘I didn’t break in. I have a key.’ He opened his fist and dangled it in front of her.
In her panic she’d forgotten that he’d come in with a key.
Somehow that seemed to make the situation even more disturbing.
‘Where did you get that?’ Were her parents still leaving a key under a plant pot by the door for all and sundry to let themselves in?
‘Where is everyone?’ she asked, her voice shrill. ‘What have you done with them?’
‘Who? There’s no one here but me. And now you.’ He had the nerve to sound pissed off about it.
She’d edged all the way to the door now and she backed up against it, grabbing the handle, ready to make a bolt for it. ‘Take off your scarf.’
‘Um… I’d rather not,’ he said, his voice muffled by layers of wool.
‘Why don’t you want me to see your face?
’ What was she saying? She was hysterical and she wasn’t thinking straight.
It was obvious he didn’t want her to be able to identify him to the police.
And it would be better for her too if she couldn’t.
Then she wouldn’t pose a threat to him and they could both still get out of this unscathed.
He sighed, his shoulders slumping. ‘Okay, I’ll take it off.’
‘No, it’s fine. I’ve changed my mind. Leave it on!’
But it was too late. He was already raising a hand to the scarf.
‘Slowly!’ she yelled. ‘No sudden moves.’
‘It’s not an attack scarf.’ She could hear the snigger in his voice and knew he was mocking her. Still, he unwound the scarf with exaggerated slowness, revealing a handsome face that was vaguely familiar. Then he pulled off the beanie, his hair sticking up on end.
‘Hang on, I know you!’ Mary gasped. ‘You’re… Spider-Man!’
‘Evan Prentice?’ He brushed a hand through his unruly hair. ‘Yeah, I get that a lot.’
‘I bet. Because you are him, aren’t you?’
‘No, sorry. Just a humble doppelganger.’
In the heat of the moment she hadn’t even noticed his American accent. But living in New York, she was used to hearing them all the time and they no longer stood out to her. ‘Oh come on! That’s why you didn’t want me to see your face, isn’t it? Because you don’t want to be recognised.’
He shrugged, a flash of irritation in his eyes.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said, holding her hands up in a gesture of surrender, ‘I’m not a fan. I won’t try to lick you or anything.’
His eyebrows shot up and he gave a surprised laugh. ‘Okay, guilty as charged. Just please don’t put anything on Instagram about me being here.’
Wow, this was surreal! For some reason Evan Prentice, star of the hot new Spider-Man TV series was standing here in her parents’ house in Inch. At least she didn’t have to worry that he was going to attack her. But it still didn’t explain what had happened to her family.
‘But what on earth are you doing here? And where are my parents?’
His eyebrows beetled together. ‘How should I know where your parents— Oh!’ His features relaxed, the frown disappearing. ‘Are you the McBrides’ daughter?’
‘Yes, of course. This is their house.’
‘You’re… the one who lives in New York?’
‘Mary, yes,’ she said impatiently. ‘So where are they?’
He gave a crooked smile. ‘They’ve gone to spend Christmas with you.’