Deb’s hands only did a little bit of the caffeine jitter when she stepped out of her car at Wayne Denton’s place about ten minutes before midnight.
The tiny cluster of houses didn’t look any different than she remembered by her headlights or the faint light of the half-moon. Two on one side of the winding ridge-top road, one on the other. All of them standard two-story with white wood siding, small yards in front and back, and big family-size garden plots.
The huge matching garage that was apparently the start of all the strangeness sat between the two houses on this side, only one story tall but wide enough to hold three cars and deep enough for that many more if Deb remembered right.
No lights on in any of them, but everything was too neatly kept for even her vivid imagination to conv
