Chapter Eleven

"For nine months?" Fred asks with an aggravated voice. "That's ridiculous! Who can hide in a house for so long, without being spotted?"

"Well, last night he was," Caroline replies, keeping her voice lower. "In my bed."

"Did he try something?"

"Nothing like that. But he bit me. Look!"

She turns the side of her neck to Fred, who inspects it closely and touches it delicately, not wanting to stop. He can see no marks, but continues the inspection anyway.

"I can't see anything."

"You have to look really close. There are two small marks, right on my vein."

Fred leans in very close and gently drags his fingertip along the vein.

"Maybe they already healed."

"Or maybe there's not enough light here," Caroline suggests. "They were there when I checked this morning."

"Anyway," Fred continues, "what a pervert! Does it hurt?"

"I can't feel a thing. I thought he kissed me. But he bit me and drank my blood."

"He drank your blood? Really? That's just insane."

"Well, he said so. I don't know. The marks were so small, not at all like bite marks. And if he bit my vein, wouldn't there be blood all over?"

Fred keeps staring at her neck, until she turns away.

"I think it's a homeless kid," Caroline continues. "You know, sleeping in the streets. Maybe sometimes in our house. I found no trace of him in my closet or anywhere else. But still, he might have been there, now and then."

"The creep!"

"If he's a runaway for nine months or more, he must be in big trouble," she says with some concern.

"I say he is!" Fred says with a dark voice. "I wish I'd get my hands on him."

He ties his hands into fists and his lips form a downward curve.

"I don't want you to hurt him," Caroline blurts out, putting her hands on Fred's fists and lowering them. "But I do want you to help me catch him."