He rings the doorbell again after a few more minutes of silence. This time, we hear shuffling coming from the back of the house, followed by the sleepy grumblings of a woman’s creaky voice.
The wood door opens. Helen Cooper, now known as Alice Tremaine, squints at us through the partial opening. “Yes?”
Demyen stands tall. “Helen Cooper?”
Her face pales. She opens the door a fraction wider, glances between us, then focuses on Demyen.
Her eyes widen.
And then she slams the door in his face.
“I think she knows you,” I mutter.
“Family resemblance.” He tries the doorbell again, but this time, we hear her shout at us to go away as she retreats to the back of her house. Demyen blows out a low breath.
“Dem,” I interject, “we really need her to like us.”
“We really don’t.”
“Do you think s
