“If there’s one thing I know how to do,” said Darnell Slant, “It’s win.” This time, Merry did flash her teeth. Then she sat down at the table nearest the bar and said, “Let the game begin.” Darnell Slant laughed. “It already has.”
My eyes swept to the right. No one. To the left. Again, nothing. There was but one other place to look, behind. Just the thought brought a prickle to the back of my neck until, with sudden panic, I whirled impulsively around. There, jutting up from the hole through which the hold might be reached, was a grinning head, its eyes fixed right on me.
[She] was awakened in the middle of the night by the strangest sounds. Clicking sounds. Scuttling sounds. “Hello,” said a tiny voice. … With trembling fingers, Miss Millie reached for the solar lamp on her table, flicked it on. Hundreds of tiny silver spiders scuttled across her ceiling, over the furniture, on the floor. On the thinnest gossamer chain, a single spider inched down to dangle in front of Miss Millie’s shocked, white face. It had three emerald eyes, slightly off-kilter. “Hello?” it said. Miss Millie screamed.
On the other side of the river, close to the bridge, an ambulance was just arriving on the scene. Policemen where in boats; several were in full scuba gear. The situation looked tense, almost frantic, as sirens wailed, policemen darted about, and the helicopters hovered low, watching everything. Something had been found.