I had noticed that the bungalow had a third-floor window and figured there must be attic space somewhere. I would just have to hope that the cops didn’t need to do a very thorough search. They were probably here on the same mission as we were—to see what had been going on recently in Rafe’s life. No one put their important stuff in the attic, right?
Alex found the small door in the ceiling and we popped it open quietly and lowered the ladder without it squeaking. I sent a quick thank-you to Rafe for keeping his hinges oiled.
After we were in the attic, which was dim and gloomy on this late autumn afternoon, Alex pulled the ladder up inside and replaced the door. We sat hunched by the opening, listening to footsteps in the rooms below. I mentally smacked my forehead when I realized I had left the grimoire sitting downstairs on the desk. I’d managed to put the other documents back in the secret drawer . . . maybe I’d get a chance to come back later.
Rather than waste time getting a leg cramp and worrying, I clicked on my handy penlight and crept around the area. Alex followed. The usual assortment of junk languished in the corners. Two trunks looked promising, but contained only old musty clothing from a previous owner, unless Rafe was also a cross-dressing ’60s hippie. A dressmaker’s form stood alone in a far corner—was that a required fixture for an attic? A further perusal of old bicycle tires, baseball mitts, and hockey pads turned up nothing useful. I wasn’t even sure any of it had belonged to Rafe.
Seth, who had been stationed by the trapdoor, waved his arms like a drunken air-traffic signaler. Alex and I tiptoed back to where he stood.
“They’re talking about coming up here.” He said it so quietly we both had to lean toward him.
“What should we do?” Alex mouthed.
Seth pointed to the small window at the far side of the attic. I could barely make out tree branches through the grime. The window faced the backyard but it was three stories up. I have only a couple of fears. Guns, bad guys, small spaces, even snakes didn’t bother me. Spiders I could tolerate at a good distance. Heights did me in.
I shook my head and backed away. My foot found the one creaky floorboard in the whole attic.
“Did you hear that?” a male voice floated up from the floor below.
“It’s just the wind.” That one was Mac. They moved off to the other end of the house.
“How are we going to get Dylan out of jail if we’re all sharing his cell?” Alex said.
“You won’t have to climb, Clyde. We’ll just wait there on the roof until they go. It’s better than being killed by Mac.” Seth pulled on my sleeve.
At least Seth and Alex could hide out there. I’d decide when the time came whether I needed to join them or not.
We tiptoed again across the attic and no squeaky floorboards gave us away. I was sure that the window would be stuck and save me from needing to climb through it. But, no, it swung open easily as if it was used all the time. Now I was cursing Rafe and his general home-maintenance tendencies.
Seth was the first out, fearless as only a teenager can be. He poked his head back in. “It’s fine, there’s plenty of room. The roof is kind of steep, but it’s not slippery.”
Alex waited for me. He knew I’d never follow them out. He narrowed his eyes, tilted his head toward the window, and pointed. I felt my shoulders slump. Then we both spun in the direction of the trapdoor as it dropped open and weak light from the floor below leaked upward.
Alex began moving his hand in a circular, “hurry up” gesture. I took a deep breath and put my foot on the ledge. I barely had time to steady myself before I felt a huge push from behind. Good thing Seth was there to grab me or Alex would have pushed me right off the roof. We quickly found our footing and I looked straight ahead into the tree branches. Alex scrambled out right after me and pulled the window closed. He stood on the other side of the window, legs spread for a better grip on the steep roof, hands grasping the siding.
We plastered ourselves against the wall of the house and waited. I heard Mac and the other guy moving around the attic. They weren’t tiptoeing. They were certainly taking their time, however.
A cold drop of rain hit me right between the eyes. Of course. I had a brief moment to hope for a light drizzle before a full-on autumn rain began in earnest. We were soaked within two minutes. I couldn’t wipe the water out of my eyes because I was busy clutching the side of the house, trying not to shift my weight for fear of sliding off the roof.
How long were they going to search the attic? There was nothing up there.
“Clyde?” Seth whispered.
I turned my head in his direction.
“I really have to pee.”
I looked heavenward and got a few huge raindrops in my eyes.
“You’ll have to wait, obviously,” I hissed at him.
“The rain is really not helping. I think I can climb off the side and drop onto the first-floor roof.” He began to sidle toward the edge.