This one was furtive. Slow. It was a creaking, and it was coming from the main staircase.
She told herself it meant nothing. People got up and moved around, even in the dead of night. There was nothing unusual about that. It wouldn’t be Bridey roaming about in the wee hours; she had water and whatever she might need right in her room. She was old—and she wasn’t stupid. Wandering alone in the dark could mean a fall and a broken hip. She stayed put.
But Kat might be restless by night, and she might have decided to go downstairs and make tea. And God knew about Zach. For all she knew, he might tiptoe around the house for hours every night.
It wouldn’t be Sean. For one thing, he’d taken his medication and would be sound asleep, though he was growing stronger by the day and probably wouldn’t need a nurse much longer. No matter; she’d been hired, and she was staying. Most of all, though, it wouldn’t be Sean because his room was downstairs, and she wasn’t hearing someone climbing the stairs but someone descending them.
Amanda might be the midnight prowler. This was, after all, her home. She might decide to wander down to the kitchen. Or—perhaps even with real concern—she might have decided to go down and check on her husband, to see how he was doing.
Another creak.
Another slow step.
A shadow seemed to shoot across the ceiling, but it was just the light flickering. But why had it flickered?
She continued to watch the darkness for creeping shadows, the natural consequence of light and darkness meeting.
She had excellent hearing, and she needed to use it.
Creak.
She held her breath and listened. Waited.
Creak.
Yes. Someone was on the stairs, moving very slowly.
Why move so slowly? Anyone in this house had the right to be here and to wander around at will.
And yet…
She was certain the sound was coming from the stairs. A creeping sensation of fear and approaching doom began to sweep over her. She very quietly eased her covers down, and silently set her feet on the floor.
It was late, but Zach found that, as tired as he was, he couldn’t sleep. He tried for a while, then gave up. Something had been bothering him all day.
Eddie.
Why had he been the only one to go into the office that day?
Cal had napped, and Marni had gone shopping, but they had both sounded guilty talking about it. As if they’d been caught playing hooky. Then again, if nothing had happened that day, neither one of them would have felt bad. The business was extremely active in the summer; they put in tons of hours. There was no reason to feel guilty for taking some extra time off in the winter, other than the fact that they hadn’t been there when something had happened.
But Eddie had said that he had something to do. Cal hadn’t been able to figure out what it was, though, so it probably hadn’t been business related. So why had Eddie gone into the office to do it?
What he needed to do was go through Eddie’s work computer. Maybe the answer was to be found in whatever he had been up to online.
He rose and dressed warmly, adding a scarf, cap and his coat. Late at night, the cold bit most severely. He hit the tiny button on his watch that lit up the dial. Only midnight. Not that late. He would be back soon enough.
He started out the bedroom door, then paused.
His Smith and Wesson .38 Special was locked in his briefcase. Did he need it to go to the office at this hour of the night?
Hell, yes. Eddie was dead. Of course he needed it.
He retrieved the gun, tucked it in his waistband, then silently started out.
It was all that talk about banshees, Kat decided.
She wasn’t afraid of the dark, and she wasn’t afraid of being alone. At least, she never had been before.
Tonight, it seemed as if she was actually hearing a banshee.
A banshee? It was as if she was hearing a hundred of them screaming, wailing, moaning, caterwauling in the dark. It was the wind; she knew that. The wind had started to pick up late this afternoon and had grown steadily stronger ever since. No rain, just wind.
Maybe there was a storm coming in. Maybe they would even have snow for Christmas.
The shadows seemed to be dancing an evil tango across the ceiling. It was the branches, bending and bowing to the wind, she told herself. But the howl of the wind was utterly unnerving. How could anything that sounded so much like a lonely scream of horror be natural?
The house itself seemed to shake. To breathe in and breathe out.
Kat tossed and turned. She needed to get some sleep. She needed to be alert and aware come morning so she could make sure her father stayed safe. He was doing well now, and at least he was home. He was back in the States, not across an ocean with that woman.