No Exit by Taylor Adams 2

Roofing Service, that her father “Mr Pete” had given them
permission to enter the house.
Jay said no.
Lars had asked her a few more times, in a few different
ways. He seemed to think “Mr Pete” was at the grocery store,
which was false (her father had called from the office to tell
her the babysitter had the flu and that there was leftover
Mongolian Grill in the fridge). Even then, Jay got the
impression that Lars wasn’t like other adults in her life. She
suspected that even at her age, she was already smarter than he
might ever be.
Lars asked less politely. Leaning in. His teeth smelled like
dead leaves.
Jay shut the door.
When she turned around, the one she now knew as Ashley
was sitting at the oval kitchen table. His boots had left muddy
prints on the parquet. He’d looked up at her casually,
munching a handful of banana chips from the ceramic bowl.
She still didn’t know how he got inside the house — a
window, maybe? The garage?
She ran for the living room. She didn’t make it.
Here and now, Jamie Nissen — or Jay, as she’d gone by
since first grade — crawled out of the dog kennel on her
palms, over the itchy blankets and towels her rescuer had
hidden beneath two hours ago. The metal bars chattered and
twanged around her; she hoped Ashley and Lars weren’t
nearby to hear. She reached the rear door of the van, expecting
it to be locked. Lars had always been careful to re-lock the
van’s doors, every time he—
The handle clicked in her bloody fingers.
The door swung open.
Jay froze there on her hands and knees, looking out into
the darkness. Thousands of swirling snowflakes. A shivery
gust of night air. A parking lot of smooth, undisturbed white,