The Attic on Queen Street (Tradd Street #7)

“Sounds good. But can it wait?”

“Oh. Sure. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

“No, I meant I’m still sleeping in here. I’d rather not have Greco start until I’m gone.”

His words stung. I hadn’t thought about him leaving. I’d been so happy that he was at least under the same roof that I hadn’t considered that it might be temporary. I assumed Jack hadn’t considered it temporary, either.

“Oh, sure.” I smiled to hide the thickness in my throat. I turned and twisted the knob. “Good night, Jack,” I managed as I stepped out into the hallway.

A piercing scream from behind Nola’s closed bedroom door ripped the quiet night. I sprinted toward her room, Jack right behind me. To my surprise, the door opened on its own, and we panted in the doorway, fumbling for the light switch. The ceiling fixture flashed on with a glaring light before exploding with a shattering pop.

“I’m okay,” Nola said into the darkness. She flicked on her bedside lamp, illuminating her sitting straight up against her pillows, only the black of her Brad Paisley T-shirt separating her deathly white face from the pale sheets. “Someone was in here—next to my bed.”

Jack went into special ops mode, looking under her bed and in her closet. He disappeared into her bathroom and I heard the rings of the shower curtain being whipped aside.

The scent of smoke slipped past us, drawing me toward the window overlooking the cistern and back garden. All was in blackness, yet I could detect shifting away from the house a shadow darker than the night.

Jack returned and we sat down on the edge of Nola’s bed. “I’m guessing your visitor wasn’t an intruder.” He met my eyes briefly.

I picked up Nola’s ice-cold hand. “It was a girl,” Nola said. “About my age—maybe a little younger, like fifteen or sixteen. And she was wearing old-fashioned clothes.”

Jack frowned. “You screamed. Did she hurt you?”

Nola shook her head. “No. She just . . . startled me. I was sleeping and I felt this . . . this . . . icy hand on my arm. Like someone trying to wake me. And when I opened my eyes, I could see that there was someone standing next to my bed.” She swallowed. “She didn’t make me feel scared. She was . . . sad. And I think she wanted to tell me something.” She looked at Jack and then back at me. “I screamed because I turned on the flashlight on my phone so I could see better. And that’s when I saw her face.” Her hand began to shake in mine and I squeezed it tighter.

Nola’s voice was just louder than a whisper. “Her face. It was . . . it was melted. And . . .” She swallowed again. “Her eyes were missing, or maybe . . . maybe they’d just been absorbed into her melted skin.”

She started to cry and I gathered her to me while I gently patted her back the way JJ and Sarah liked when they needed to be soothed. “We’re going to see Yvonne tomorrow to find out what’s going on, all right?”

She nodded against my chest.

“Would you like me to stay here with you tonight? Or to come to my room? I promise not to tell your friends.”

She lifted her head, wiping her eyes with the heels of her hands, a hint of a smile on her lips. “No. But thanks. I’ll probably read for a bit and fall asleep with the light on.”

“You’re not scared?” Jack asked.

Nola shook her head. “She didn’t mean to scare me—I could tell. It was just . . . a feeling. She wanted me to know she was there. I’m sure of that. I think she was trying to tell me something. She’s not here to scare me.”

I pushed her dark hair from her forehead. “All right. But you know where I am if you change your mind. The night-light’s on in the hall, but if you need to turn on the hall light, go ahead. I figure since your scream didn’t wake up the twins, a bit of light in the hallway won’t, either.” I stood and fluffed the pillows behind her while Jack fetched a glass of water from her bathroom. I stepped forward, then leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Good night, Nola.”

Something hard on the floor pushed against the thin sole of my slipper. I moved my foot aside to see a silver button winking at me from the tight weave of the rug. When I bent down to retrieve it, I spotted four more buttons in a row right behind it. I collected all the buttons and placed them on my outstretched palm.

“Maybe those are from her charm string,” Nola said. “She’d be about the right age.”

I nodded, thinking about the headstone and the other items Meghan had mentioned. “Hopefully Yvonne can shed a little more light on all of this when we see her tomorrow.”

We said good night and headed for the door. Jack paused. “Do you want me to leave this open?”

For a moment I thought Nola might refuse, but she didn’t. “Just an inch. Or two.” She frowned. “Where are Porgy and Bess? They jumped off the bed when I screamed.”

“I spotted them under the bed. They looked happy there,” Jack said.

I returned to the bed and knelt to look underneath. The two fluff balls lay next to each other, their dark round eyes looking out at me as they each chewed on one of General Lee’s soup bones, saved especially for him by Mrs. Houlihan. I knew better than to reach under the bed to separate them from their treats. As sweet as they were, threatening their food source could have meant a lost finger. Or two.

Jack helped pull me up, my knees cracking as I straightened and faced Nola. “Did you give the dogs a bone?”

“No. Why?”

“Well, someone did. Someone who must like dogs.”

Nola leaned back against her pillows. “That’s a relief. I told you I wasn’t scared. Anyone who likes dogs can’t be that bad, right?”

Jack coughed, probably recalling the repeated antidog declarations I’d been making ever since I’d inherited General Lee.

“Good night, Nola,” I said again, then followed Jack into the hallway. I watched him partially close the door. “Should I get a ruler? She said one to two inches.”

“Um, no. I don’t think that’s necessary.”