Tapping, really. I ignored her."Matt?" She was still there. Whispering. She'd been screaming at me 30 minutes earlier, but suddenly she was whispering... I turned on my stereo. Played the CD in the tray. It was the one that made me think of the CD I couldn't find. The one that started the whole thing about getting my CD's back from her room.It was kind of a stupid disc. But I wanted to play it loud. I pressed the top button on my remote, watching the blue display show the climbing volume. Nottoo much; just enough to keep her guessing.His mother was stretched out on the sofa, languidly reading one of herAnne Rice novels. This was a familiar scene: Lynne Taylor was a bingereader with a preference for the supernatural. The Vampire Chronicleswas her all-time favourite, she must have read it at least sixteentimes, as if searching for passages she hadn't noticed before. Kimhonestly had no idea what the attraction was. Once you read a book youalready knew how it ended. There was no. More

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