She must have sensed him hesitating on her front lawn because she came to the window and unlatched it, leaning over the box of flowers. The moonlight made her hair gleam like spun silver. It also made the white teeth inside her smile resemble horrible, gnashing fangs. Clay didn’t know if he should run at her or away from her.
By the tilt of her head and the come-hither motion of her hand, probably far, far away.