"Sincerely, Irene" Excerpt

“It’s not breaking and entering,” said Emma, “if you don’t break anything and you have a key. Now shut up.”

Bridget sighed and faced the street. “Try the one with the pink duct tape again.”

Emma dug the key further into the lock, twisted, and the lock gave a satisfying click. She twisted the key back, removed it, and dropped it in her purse. The door opened with a lengthy whine, but there was no one to scare—not even the cat.

It was stuffy and dim. Vertical blinds blocked the waning sunlight and cast it in sharp fiery lines across the ceiling. A heaving hum came from the refrigerator, and cool air washed through the floor vents. Everything was quiet.

“Brianna’s room is probably this way,” Bridget whispered. “Let’s go. I want to get out of here.”

Emma tightened her purse strap around her shoulder and followed Bridget down the dark hall. Heart pulsating anxiously inside her ribcage, she opened a door with a Good Charlotte poster and found a neon pink room. Several bookshelves towered to the ceiling, more posters lined the walls, and clothes lay haphazardly amongst the desk, bed, and floor. How, she wondered, was she ever going to find her cell phone in this mess?

Bridget wandered further down the hall, taking a peek into the bathroom for unwanted killers and staring curiously at the family photos on the wall. When she went into Brianna’s room, she found Emma slipping a CD into her purse.

“Klepto,” she hissed. “Put it back.”

Emma rolled her eyes, but obeyed.

“It’s not like she doesn’t have everything already,” she said.

“Stealing is stealing” Bridget replied. “Zero tolerance, remember?”

“Whatever,” Emma snapped.

She continued to dig around the bookshelves, scanning titles and fingering trinkets. Failing to notice that Emma had found her cell phone, Bridget lifted the blinds with two fingers and stared out the window.

“Crap,” she squeaked. “We’ve got a visitor.”