it wasn’t just protection.”
“I know.”
They wheeled the bikes into the garage and brought their bags into the house.
“Whenever we’ve needed her, she’s been there,” Amy said. “Even after she was gone. She gave us McIntyre and Fiske and Nellie. And now she’s led us here.”
“It’s here,” Dan said. “Whatever it is. There’s something in the house.”
They exchanged the briefest of glances, then sprang into action. Amy headed to the small study off the kitchen. She searched the desk and the bookshelves. She pressed against floorboards and tapped against walls.
Dan headed upstairs. He poked around the rooms, moving dressers and examining floorboards for a telltale loose board. He scrutinized the gray stone fireplace in the master bedroom where Amy had slept. He crawled over the floors of the remaining small, spare bedrooms. He knocked on their walls.
Finally, he climbed the winding wooden staircase to the attic bedroom, so small it had room only for a bed and a small table. One high round window gave a faint glimpse of blue sky. There was no closet, only a row of pegs along one wall.
Frustrated, he started down the stairs again. He hit the landing and made the turn, pounding down the remaining stairs.
He stopped.
He walked up the stairs again.
Then down.
Dan dropped to his knees. He examined every inch of the staircase, crawling up and down it. When he reached the bottom, he saw Amy standing in the hall, watching him.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m probably crazy. But there’s something different about the sound of the stairs at the top from the bottom. It’s just a little thing, but —”
He stopped. Amy had leaned right next to a candle sconce. It had a mirror backing, so that the candlelight would be caught and reflected. In that muddy reflection he’d seen it. The matching sconce on the other wall was slightly different. The metal scrollwork on the ledge was a different design. But in all other respects the sconces were a perfect pair.
He ran his fingers along the scrollwork. Carefully, he tugged on the sconce itself. It moved in his hand and he quickly tried to catch it. It hung steady, still anchored to the wall, but a few inches away. He pulled it all the way down, and the staircase rose into the air.
Beyond it was a secret room.
Dan walked up a few steps and peered in. Then he turned to Amy.
“After you,” he said.
Chapter 15
Amy passed through the opening. She straightened and felt along the wall for a light switch. It turned on a pretty lamp with a blue glass shade that sat on a white table.
Dan followed. They were in a small, square room. The floorboards were painted white and the ceiling sky blue, perhaps to make up for the lack of windows. The room was tucked under the eaves. Amy guessed that it would be impossible to tell from outside the house that it existed.
Next to the white table was a wooden chair with a deep purple cushion on the seat. She could visualize Grace sitting in the chair with her straight-backed posture. There was a painting on one wall, and on the other an ornate gold mirror.
She walked closer to the table and leaned over to study the painting. The childlike forms depicted brightly colored woods and sky and a splash of yellow against a green field. She recognized it immediately. She had given it to Grace for her birthday when Amy was nine. She had worked on it so carefully — it was the view from Grace’s window seat in the library. The place they used to curl up together with a pot of cocoa and a plate of cookies. She had painted it in spring, when the giant forsythia bush was blooming. Grace had called the bush “George” because she had buried a favorite goldfish there years before. “Oh, I see George is ready to bloom,” she would say in early spring.
Dan walked over to a wooden filing cabinet next to the table. He opened the drawer and flicked through the files. Amy stood, looking over his shoulder. The files were marked by
“I know.”
They wheeled the bikes into the garage and brought their bags into the house.
“Whenever we’ve needed her, she’s been there,” Amy said. “Even after she was gone. She gave us McIntyre and Fiske and Nellie. And now she’s led us here.”
“It’s here,” Dan said. “Whatever it is. There’s something in the house.”
They exchanged the briefest of glances, then sprang into action. Amy headed to the small study off the kitchen. She searched the desk and the bookshelves. She pressed against floorboards and tapped against walls.
Dan headed upstairs. He poked around the rooms, moving dressers and examining floorboards for a telltale loose board. He scrutinized the gray stone fireplace in the master bedroom where Amy had slept. He crawled over the floors of the remaining small, spare bedrooms. He knocked on their walls.
Finally, he climbed the winding wooden staircase to the attic bedroom, so small it had room only for a bed and a small table. One high round window gave a faint glimpse of blue sky. There was no closet, only a row of pegs along one wall.
Frustrated, he started down the stairs again. He hit the landing and made the turn, pounding down the remaining stairs.
He stopped.
He walked up the stairs again.
Then down.
Dan dropped to his knees. He examined every inch of the staircase, crawling up and down it. When he reached the bottom, he saw Amy standing in the hall, watching him.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m probably crazy. But there’s something different about the sound of the stairs at the top from the bottom. It’s just a little thing, but —”
He stopped. Amy had leaned right next to a candle sconce. It had a mirror backing, so that the candlelight would be caught and reflected. In that muddy reflection he’d seen it. The matching sconce on the other wall was slightly different. The metal scrollwork on the ledge was a different design. But in all other respects the sconces were a perfect pair.
He ran his fingers along the scrollwork. Carefully, he tugged on the sconce itself. It moved in his hand and he quickly tried to catch it. It hung steady, still anchored to the wall, but a few inches away. He pulled it all the way down, and the staircase rose into the air.
Beyond it was a secret room.
Dan walked up a few steps and peered in. Then he turned to Amy.
“After you,” he said.
Chapter 15
Amy passed through the opening. She straightened and felt along the wall for a light switch. It turned on a pretty lamp with a blue glass shade that sat on a white table.
Dan followed. They were in a small, square room. The floorboards were painted white and the ceiling sky blue, perhaps to make up for the lack of windows. The room was tucked under the eaves. Amy guessed that it would be impossible to tell from outside the house that it existed.
Next to the white table was a wooden chair with a deep purple cushion on the seat. She could visualize Grace sitting in the chair with her straight-backed posture. There was a painting on one wall, and on the other an ornate gold mirror.
She walked closer to the table and leaned over to study the painting. The childlike forms depicted brightly colored woods and sky and a splash of yellow against a green field. She recognized it immediately. She had given it to Grace for her birthday when Amy was nine. She had worked on it so carefully — it was the view from Grace’s window seat in the library. The place they used to curl up together with a pot of cocoa and a plate of cookies. She had painted it in spring, when the giant forsythia bush was blooming. Grace had called the bush “George” because she had buried a favorite goldfish there years before. “Oh, I see George is ready to bloom,” she would say in early spring.
Dan walked over to a wooden filing cabinet next to the table. He opened the drawer and flicked through the files. Amy stood, looking over his shoulder. The files were marked by
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