27

SHE HADN’T REALIZED how long she’d been sitting there, staring at the document in front of her.

The front door opened and shut, causing Norah to startle. She looked up and out the front window to see the world was shrouded in darkness already. All afternoon she had scoured through the files.

She was losing her mind over this case. She was losing her mind over everything.

Norah looked toward the door, expecting to see Sebastian there. Only he wasn’t. The entryway was dark. She really had lost track of time in her frantic searching of the files.

She took a moment to push back the hair from her face and tugged her T-shirt down over her hips. She stepped into the hall and glanced at the grandfather clock. It was past ten. Sebastian had to have snuck in and slipped past her without saying hello or good night. She squelched the hurt his distance had created. Right now she’d like nothing more than to run all this by him.

Norah padded her way across the entry, not bothering to flick on lights. She didn’t want to risk waking Harper whom Sebastian had helped home from the hospital just that morning. They’d stayed distant from Norah, for whatever reason. But even without interaction, Norah knew the poor girl needed to sleep. Norah knew that sometimes the lights from downstairs could seep through the cast-iron floor vents and shed light into the bedrooms above.

A thump in the kitchen caused Norah to stop. She strained to hear. “Sebastian?” she called softly.

There was no answer, just the rhythmic ticking of the clock.

She needed a glass of water. Or maybe she’d make herself a cup of orange-spice tea.

The kitchen was dark save for the small light above the stove. She must have left it on earlier in the afternoon when she’d made a sandwich for lunch. Norah made quick time of filling a mug with water and popping it into the microwave. She punched the appropriate buttons and then stood in front of it, staring through the glass door as the mug rotated slowly.

She pondered everything she’d read in the past few hours.

Isabelle Addington. A moot point, and not much else needed there considering the Millers hadn’t bothered to file their frivolous lawsuit against her. She’d send a sympathy card and flowers to Mrs. Miller if Rebecca thought it’d be well received and not seem antagonistic.

Naomi. Everything she’d read had only brought back memories of what she already knew, except for the suspect list that included the two brothers, LeRoy, and Mike Dover.

Dover . . . She had refrained from calling him for obvious reasons. What if—?

Another thud made Norah jerk her head to the right and toward the door. Was something outside on the porch? A raccoon or possum? Wouldn’t be the first time. Still, Norah was unnerved as she reached up and jammed the end button on the microwave.

Click.

What the heck was that?

Norah spun around and peered into the dark corners of the room. If Isabelle Addington came rushing at her on all fours, her head twisting around and her black hair dangling beside her face, Norah would scream so loud that the entire house would crash down.

But there was no ghoulish form of a possessed dead woman.

Nothing.

Then she heard a creak. It seemed to come from the front of the house. Floorboards in the entryway? Norah tiptoed in that direction, the light from the dining room casting a much friendlier glow than the darker kitchen to her back. She peered to the right and down the hall toward her bedroom.

Nothing.

Halfway up the stairs to the second floor.

Nothing.

Norah held her breath, trying to listen for more sounds of disturbance. Sounds that were foreign to what was typical of 322 Predicament Avenue at night.

All was silent.

She let out her breath.

Good. Teatime.

Norah turned to go back into the kitchen.

A woman stood behind her, eyes wide and horrified, her hair stringy and short, hanging down on either side of her face. She was breathing through her mouth, short gasping breaths. She held up her hands, the tips of her fingers bloody, the nails half ripped off.

Norah opened her mouth to scream, but the sound that squeezed through was strangled. She desperately tried to suck in air and failed. Norah gaped in terror at the ghoulish woman in front of her. And when the woman spoke, her words came out in a puff of breath that smelled musty and swept across Norah’s face.

“Help me.”