I went back upstairs to search under my bed.

    And then I remembered that Alice had been here to get my pajamas. I hadn’t noticed that she’d borrowed
my pillow, too — probably since I’d avoided the bed. It looked like she had cleaned while she was passing
through. I blushed for my slovenly ways.
    But that red shirt really wasn’t dirty, so I went to save it from the hamper.
    I expected to find it near the top, but it wasn’t there. I dug through the whole pile and still couldn’t find it. I

knew I was probably getting paranoid, but it seemed like something else was missing, or maybe more than one
something. I didn’t even have half a load here.
    I ripped my sheets off and headed for the laundry closet, grabbing Charlie’s on the way. The washing
machine was empty. I checked the dryer, too, half-expecting to find a washed load waiting for me, courtesy of
Alice. Nothing. I frowned, mystified.
    “Did you find what you were looking for?” Charlie yelled.
    “Not yet.”
    I went back upstairs to search under my bed. Nothing but dust bunnies. I started to dig through my
dresser. Maybe I’d put the red shirt away and forgotten.
    I gave up when the doorbell rang. That would be Edward.
    “Door,” Charlie informed me from the couch as I skipped past him.
    “Don’t strain yourself, Dad.”
    I pulled the door open with a big smile on my face.
    Edward’s golden eyes were wide, his nostrils flared, his lips pulled back over his teeth.
    “Edward?” My voice was sharp with shock as I read his expression. “What —?”
    He put his finger to my lips. “Give me two seconds,” he whispered. “Don’t move.”
    I stood frozen on the doorstep and he . . . disappeared. He moved so quickly that Charlie wouldn’t even
have seen him pass.
    Before I could compose myself enough to count to two, he was back. He put his arm around my waist
and pulled me swiftly toward the kitchen. His eyes darted around the room, and he held me against his body
as if he were shielding me from something. I threw a glance toward Charlie on the couch, but he was
studiously ignoring us.
    “Someone’s been here,” he murmured in my ear after he pulled me to the back of the kitchen. His voice
was strained; it was difficult to hear him over the thumping of the washing machine.
    “I swear that no werewolves —” I started to say.
    “Not one of them,” he interrupted me quickly, shaking his head. “One of us.”
    His tone made it clear that he didn’t mean a member of his family.
    I felt the blood empty from my face.