Sean didn’t believe in the supernatural, but he did believe in his instincts. Something was wrong in Sarah’s house. Something had happened here. It was as if he could feel the echo of some violent act still quivering on the air.

Entering the bedroom, he angled the light over the walls and floor, into the closet. It was just as he’d left it the day before. Spotless.

Snapping on latex gloves, he pulled the drapes at the window and hung a sheet over the French doors so that he could turn on the overhead light. Kneeling over the spot on the floor where he’d found the piece of glass, he removed a tripod and video camera, then a spray bottle of luminol from his bag.

A victim’s body could be dumped and the crime scene scrubbed clean to the naked eye, but without industrial-strength cleaning chemicals, there was always some DNA that remained. Tiny particles of blood could run down into the crevices between floorboards, seep into the baseboards, cling to the carpet and walls.

When the chemicals in luminol reacted to traces of blood, it produced a blue-green luminescence that could reveal spatter patterns, shapes, sometimes even shoe imprints in carpet. Household chemicals like bleach could produce the same results, but the glow was quicker to fade than with blood.

Sean sprayed a section of the floor, then turned off the light. A few seconds later, an eerie glow hung in the darkness over the area he’d coated.

Sean’s blood went cold as he knelt to examine the pattern of the luminescence on the floor.

One glowing footprint appeared and then another. And they were shaped like the bruises he’d seen on the torso in the morgue.

He waited for the effect to fade, but instead the glow intensified and lingered.

He turned on the overhead light and the luminescence disappeared. Like nothing was there.

Grabbing the luminol, he sprayed another section of the floor and some of the walls. This time, when he turned off the light, the effect was astonishing.

Sean stood in the center of the room and slowly turned. The cloven footprints were everywhere. Trailing across the floor and glowing down from the walls.

“Sarah,” he whispered. “What the hell is going on?”

* * *

Earlier, Esme had offered to spend the night, but Sarah knew how much she loved being in her own home at night. Sarah was the same way. She would have given anything to be in her own bed at that moment, safely tucked away from this madness.

Her father’s house unnerved her. She’d never felt comfortable there, even as a child. Ghosts hovered in every room and dark secrets seemed to cling to every rafter. But the mysteries of Sarah’s past were the least of her fears now.

Seeing Derrick Fears earlier had left her shaken, but it would be useless to call the police. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He hadn’t even trespassed on her father’s property. Instead he’d been very careful to stay in the street.

But what if he came back while she slept? He’d gotten inside once. What if he tried to get in again?

Sarah made the dreaded rounds through the house. The kitchen, pantry and mudroom. Through the dining room, across the foyer, into the living room and on through to her father’s study. Every window closed and locked, every door bolted and secure.

She lingered in her father’s study. He’d once kept a gun in one of the desk drawers, and she even knew where he’d hidden the key. That was one of the advantages of being invisible. No one noticed you. People forgot that you were around.

Lifting the cigar humidor on his desk, Sarah found the key still taped to the underside. She peeled it loose and unlocked the bottom drawer. The gun was still there. A .38 Special that was a familiar weight in her hand. She’d held this gun before. More than once as a child. And now as an adult, she knew how to use it. Sean had seen to that.

Holding it at her side, she walked over to the mantel and studied the pictures of Rachel. Smiling and beautiful. But maybe not so happy. Maybe not so innocent.

Suddenly, the room was oppressive, the lingering scent of cigar smoke a sickening reminder of a dark obsession.

Sarah carried the gun with her as she checked the upstairs. Her parents’ room, Rachel’s room, all the closets and bathrooms. By the time she reached her own bedroom, she’d managed to convince herself the house was secure. There was no way Derrick Fears could get inside. And if he did, she had the gun.

She swallowed a Xanax and went to bed. But for the longest time, she didn’t sleep. She lay wide-awake, staring at the ceiling, listening for any sign of an intruder.

Finally her muscles loosened and exhaustion claimed her. Until a noise somewhere in the house brought her upright in bed.

Old houses settled, she tried to tell herself. Floorboards groaned, ancient pipes rattled. It was nothing.

But her heart was already pounding as she swung her legs off the bed and sat listening to the night. The house seemed almost too silent now.

Taking the gun from the nightstand, she moved to her bedroom door and slipped into the hallway, the pulsing drumbeat of her heart a frantic echo in her ears. At the top of the stairs, she stopped and peered over the railing.

The hair on her neck lifted a split second before a floorboard creaked behind her.

She whirled and stared deep into the shadowy hallway. Nothing moved, but she had the strongest sensation of another presence watching her from the darkness.

Her hand spidered across the wall, searching for the light switch. She was almost afraid the power had been cut, and the burst of brilliance startled her. For a moment, she didn’t breathe as her hand tightened on the gun.

No one was there. She was alone in the hallway.

Quickly she went down the stairs and checked the front door. Locked tight. She moved cautiously through the dining room and kitchen to the back door. Locked tight. Everything was just as secure as she’d left it when she went up to bed.

So why the icy chill up her spine? Why the uncanny feeling that she wasn’t alone in the house?

It was nothing, Sarah told herself. Floorboards groaned. It wasn’t a footstep. Tree limbs scraped across a window. No one was trying to get in.

Understandable that she was jumpy, though. Her father was lying in the morgue with his throat cut. The identity of her sister’s killer had been buried with her fourteen years ago. Who in their right mind wouldn’t be jumpy?

Sarah went back upstairs and put the gun on the nightstand. She lay huddled under the covers, knowing that in spite of the Xanax, there would be no real rest for her that night.

She drifted for more than an hour, half asleep, half awake when her eyes opened suddenly and she lay staring into the dark. A new sound had awakened her, a rhythmic thumping that she couldn’t place.

Her veins iced as she lay there listening to the dark.

Thump...thump...thump...

It was nothing. Old beams settling. Walls shifting. Sarah went through her earlier litany of reasonable explanations.

Thump...thump...thump...

Dust filtered down from the ceiling onto her face. She sat up in bed, her gaze lifted.

The attic. Someone was up there walking around. The one place she hadn’t thought to check.

Thump...thump...thump...

The floorboards groaned beneath a heavy weight.

And then all went still.

Sarah’s heart pounded a panicked staccato inside her chest. Someone was there. She could feel him. But the house was absolutely silent.

Which was why she was able to hear his breathing. Deep and unnatural. A feral gasping that lifted the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck.

Run! Get out of the house!

But Sarah couldn’t seem to make her muscles work. Terror had paralyzed her, just the way it happened in a nightmare.

Besides, as long as she didn’t move, he didn’t seem to move.

She tested her theory by forcing her legs over the side of the bed.

Something scratched against the ceiling. The sound grew louder, frenzied as if claws were ripping right through the attic floorboards.

Sarah glanced around frantically. She’d never been allowed to have a telephone in her room, and now she realized that she’d left her cell phone downstairs in her purse.

She grabbed the gun and flew across the room to the door. The attic opening was just down the hall, and she tried to gauge the distance to the stairway. She had to get out of the house before whoever—whatever—was up there, decided to come down.

She opened the door to the hallway and paused to listen. She heard nothing. The scratching had stopped. The footsteps were silent.

Sarah’s heart pounded and her chest tightened as she steeled herself for a dash to the stairs.

* * *

A little while later she stood shivering in the hallway as she watched a police officer disappear up the attic stairs. She could hear him moving around the space, but when he suddenly appeared in the doorway, Sarah jumped.

“Did you see anything?”

“There’s nobody up here now, but I want to try something. Go back inside your room for a minute.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see,” he said.

Sarah wasn’t too keen on the suggestion, but she did as he asked.

“Can you hear me?” The officer’s voice startled her. It sounded alarmingly close.

“Yes. You’re clear as a bell.”

“I’ll be right down.”

Sarah went back out to the hallway. When he appeared a few minutes later, he was brushing cobwebs from his sleeve.

“Sound carries through the heating vent,” he said. “Whatever you heard was probably magnified. Might not have been as loud as you thought.”

Sarah could feel that cold, dark panic swooping down on her again. “I heard breathing,” she said. “And what sounded like someone scratching on the wood.”

“Looks like you’ve got a bad squirrel problem up there,” he said, still swiping at the cobwebs.

“That wasn’t a squirrel I heard.”

“Well, whatever it was is gone now. I don’t know how anyone could get in from outside. The only access to the window is from the roof.”

“Someone was spotted on the roof the other night,” Sarah said. “That must be how he’s getting in.”

His brow lifted slightly. “You sound like you may know who it is.”

Sarah shivered. “It’s just a guess. I saw Derrick Fears out on the street earlier. He seemed to be watching the house.”

“Well, that doesn’t surprise me none,” the officer said grimly. “We’ve had a few complaints about him since he got back to town. I locked the window, and there’s a latch on the outside of the attic door. I fastened that, too, but it’s pretty flimsy. If somebody wanted in bad enough, he wouldn’t let that stop him. But it might slow him down, make him think twice.” He glanced around. “I’ll give the house a good going over, then have a look around outside. Probably won’t be able to see anything until daylight.”

Sarah waited downstairs while he searched the house, then walked him to the door.

“I don’t think you’ll have any more trouble tonight. If somebody was up there, he’s long gone now. But I’ll drive by every so often just to keep an eye on things.”

“Thanks.” Sarah closed the door behind him and turned the dead bolt. She could see his flashlight arcing through the darkness as he circled the house. Then he got into the squad car and drove away.

She lingered for a moment at the bottom of the stairs. Every light was blazing on the second floor, but no way was she going back up there tonight. She knew she wouldn’t get a wink of sleep anyway. Putting the gun on the coffee table, she grabbed a blanket and curled up on the sofa to wait for daybreak.

Chapter 26

When Esme came in at seven the next morning, Sarah hid the gun in her robe and went upstairs to shower. Numb with exhaustion, she slowly undressed, barely glancing in the mirror as she washed her face and brushed her teeth.

But as she stood under the hot water, everything came rushing back. The intruder in the attic. Her father’s brutal murder.

Sarah couldn’t help wondering if her family was being picked off one by one, and if she was now in the killer’s sights.

She stayed in the shower for a long time, and when she finally came downstairs, she found Lukas Clay in the kitchen with Esme. He turned when Sarah came into the room, and his gaze seemed to linger as he nodded. His uniform was pressed and he looked freshly shaven.

“I heard about the call last night,” he said. “I thought it might be a good idea to have another look around now that it’s daylight.”

“I appreciate the follow-up,” Sarah said.

Esme stood at the sink, lips pursed, eyes bright with speculation. She folded her arms and glared at Sarah. “What call would that be?”

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Sarah said.

“You’ll tell me about it right now, Sarah June, what in the world is going on? Why you being so secretive?”