Chapter 15: The Cassette Tape That Hums

The deck was her father's — a Marantz portable, brushed silver, about the size of a hardcover encyclopedia, with a handle he'd worn smooth on the right side from carrying it into every survey site for eleven years. Mara set it on the kitchen table while the others arranged themselves around it the way you arrange yourself around a fire when you're not sure what's burning.

Gordon sat to her left, close enough to read the tape labels over her shoulder. Denny stood behind them both with his arms crossed, which was what he did when he was preparing to be the only one still standing if something fell. Claudette took the chair at the table's far end, and Mara noticed that she'd positioned herself with her back to the window and a clear line of sight to the door, which was the kind of thing you noticed about Claudette once you started noticing things about Claudette.

Aunt Ruth was asleep. The farmhouse was dark except for the kitchen light, which threw a yellow circle that didn't quite reach the walls.