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hesitated before getting into the backseat, but knew better than to stall too long.
    Better to just get it over with.
    Climbing into the car, he lowered himself gingerly onto the seat, and thought he would scream out loud as the pain radiated from his bruises. But no sound escaped his lips, and he held back his tears through the sheer force of his will.
Ten minutes,
he thought.
I’ll just think about something else, and when we get there, I won’t have to sit down anymore at all.
    Turning his mind away from the sting of the whipping his father had given him, he summoned up the image that had been on his computer screen.
    The image of the house at Black Creek Crossing.
    The image of the window on the second floor.
    And the face—or at least something that looked like a face—that seemed to be peering out the window, watching as Mrs. Fletcher and the people she’d shown the house to drove away.
    The face that had seemed so clear when he’d seen it in person that afternoon, yet showed up on his camera as nothing more than an indistinct blur, almost as if there was nothing there at all.

Chapter 8
    T WAS GOING TO HAPPEN, ANGEL TOLD HERSELF. IT WAS really going to happen. All afternoon, ever since they’d arrived at Aunt Joni’s house and her parents had begun filling out the forms to buy the house on Black Creek Road, she’d been certain that something was going to go wrong. And there were so many things that could go wrong.
    Her parents could suddenly get in a fight.
    Or her father could suddenly change his mind for no reason at all. She couldn’t remember how many times that had happened—how many times they’d been planning to go to a movie, or go to the lake for a picnic, or just to McDonald’s for lunch on Saturday, and all of a sudden, for no reason at all, her father would decide they weren’t going to do it. When she was younger, she’d always thought it was her fault, that she had done something to make her father angry, and finally one day she burst into tears and told her mother she was sorry, that she didn’t know what she’d done.
    Her mother assured her that she hadn’t done anything at all, that it was just something about her father she would have to get used to. “It doesn’t mean a thing,” her mother had said, her voice sounding even more tired than usual. “It’s just the way he is.”
    But he hadn’t changed his mind about the house on Black Creek Road, even when her uncle Ed didn’t look happy about giving her father a job. In fact, that had been the worst moment of the whole day, and she found herself holding her breath as she waited to see what Uncle Ed would say when her father asked him about a job.
    There was a long silence before her uncle responded. Finally, he said, “I’m not sure hiring family is a good idea,” and Angel’s heart had sunk. Her eyes shifted from her uncle to her aunt, but her aunt hadn’t said anything. “On the other hand,” Uncle Ed went on—and she felt a twinge of hope—“I gave Joni and Myra my word, and I won’t go back on that.” Angel started to relax, but then her uncle added, “But there are a couple of things you’d better understand, Marty. You’re going to be working for me, not with me, and I’m going to be giving the orders, not you.”
    Angel had waited, once more holding her breath. Her father’s jaw tightened the way it did when he got mad, and her mother shot her father a look of warning. “I guess I can live with that,” her father replied. “At least till you see what I can do.”
    Her uncle’s eyes had narrowed, and Angel was afraid he would change his mind, but he’d only shrugged. “Then I guess we’ll see what you can do, won’t we?” he said, and smiled. But Angel could see he didn’t really mean it. “Want a drink, Marty?” he asked, and Angel saw her mother shoot her father another warning.
    To Angel’s relief, her father shook his head, picked up a pen, and signed all the papers her aunt had spread