Little Secrets Read online

  They’re not alone in the house.

  With a baby on the way and a brand new house, it seems Ginny and her husband, Sean, are on their way to a fresh start. But strange occurrences and financial strain seem determined to keep Ginny and Sean stuck in the past. Ginny begins to believe the house may be haunted…or that her husband might be trying to trick her into thinking so. As Ginny researches the house’s former owner and the tragedy that happened there, it becomes clearer than ever that something is in the house with them. The question is, who…or what…is it?

  Little Secrets

  Megan Hart

  Dedication

  This book is for the ventriloquist dummy sitting on my office shelf. Please don’t come to life and kill me in my sleep.

  Chapter One

  A fresh start.

  That’s what they needed. A new house, new jobs, new hobbies, new friends. Even her haircut was new, shorn to the shoulders instead of hanging halfway down her back. And her body was certainly getting newer all the time.

  Ginny Bohn stepped out of her old car into her new driveway. She put her hand on the roof for a minute, the metal chilly under her fingertips, and looked at the house. Brick with black shutters. There’d been a garage at one time, according to the realtor who’d sold them the house, but a fire had destroyed it years ago, and the previous owner had never rebuilt. It had been replaced with a small fenced garden, bare now, but Ginny could easily imagine it filled with flowers—assuming she became the sort of woman who took the time to plant seeds and make things grow.

  “Honey, just got a call from the movers. They’ll be here in about half an hour.” Sean had pulled up next to her and was out of his car. He stretched, cracking his back and neck in the way that always made her cringe. He came around the front of his car to hold out his hand to her. “Careful. The walk’s a little wet. It could be slippery.”

  It was sweet, his hesitation, his desire to make her something fragile. It almost made Ginny want to grab his arm and have him guide her along the slightly buckled sidewalk as though she were somehow incapable of navigating it without his help. Almost.

  She did take his hand, though, linking their fingers. They kissed matter-of-factly. That’s how it had always been with them. Matter-of-fact, familiar kisses they shared almost every time they were close enough for their lips to meet. This time, she put her arms around his waist when he tried to get away and hooked her fingertips into his belt loops. Ginny held her husband closer, just for a moment, her head tipped back so he could kiss her more thoroughly, though Sean was too busy laughing to really do justice to the smooch.

  “You want to give the neighbors a show, huh?”

  Ginny smiled, not giving a damn about the neighbors, just wanting to feel the pressure of his mouth on hers again. Taste him. Feel his breath on her face and maybe the beat of his heart against her. She stroked the fringes of hair that always fell in front of his ears, no matter how he had it cut. His bangs were longer now too, but she kept herself from ruffling them because she knew it irritated him when she messed with his hair. “I love you.”

  “Love you too.” His kiss lingered this time, not as long as she’d have liked, but with a little more heat. His hands fit against her hips. He nuzzled her nose with his, a gesture she’d told him a hundred times she hated, but that he never seemed to remember.

  From the backseat came a sudden, irritated yowl. Sean ducked to look through the back window. “Noodles sounds pissed.”

  Ginny sighed. “She doesn’t like the carrier. Can you grab the litter pan and stuff? I’m going to put her in the upstairs bathroom until we can get everything settled.”

  Sean nodded and got them from the trunk as Ginny pulled out the carrier and looked at Noodles’s furious, furry face. “Shhh. You act like you’re getting killed in there.”

  Noodles, unimpressed with Ginny’s scolding and Ginny in general, yowled again. Ginny balanced the carrier, which rocked in her arms as Noodles shifted, and followed Sean up the curving brick path to the cute-as-a-button front porch with its white-painted railing and double swing hung on chains from the roof. The front door was black, sober, the gold handle surprisingly ornate and old-fashioned, compared to the rest of the outside decor. It was the kind of handle that looked as though it used a fancy skeleton-type key, not the small and freshly cut generic silver sort they’d copied from the equally small but tarnished key the realtor had given them.

  A fresh key for their fresh start.

  It slipped into the lock with a faint clinking sound, and Sean glanced at her over his shoulder before he twisted his wrist. The click was louder this time, but the door didn’t open. Sean took the key out. Blew on it, which made Ginny laugh. Tried again. Waiting, the carrier too heavy, she set it down and held out her hand. Noodles yowled from inside, then went quiet.

  “Want me to try?”

  Sean handed her the key, which slipped into the lock without effort. The handle creaked when she turned it, and then the door was opening with a squeal of hinges. Before she could step inside, Sean put out an arm to stop her.

  Ginny had no time to protest or even prepare herself before Sean bent to sweep her into his arms, one beneath her legs and the other around her back. She let out a startled squeak and clung to him. He took two normal steps over the threshold before his foot hit a throw rug that had been placed a little too far away from the threshold. It started to skid out from under him.

  For a sickening moment, Ginny was sure they were going to fall. Her body tensed, muscles going tight in anticipation of the pain. She bit her tongue and let out a yelp. Her hands slipped on Sean’s back as he grappled and kept her from toppling onto the floor…just barely. He put her down, stepping on her foot as the pair of them stumbled forward another few steps, dancing to some routine neither had practiced.

  Heart pounding, breath catching sharp in the back of her throat, Ginny ended up straddling the errant throw rug, one of her hands on the wall and the other still clutching at the back of Sean’s shirt. Her nails dug so deeply into the plaster they’d have broken if she still kept them long, but she’d given up her manicures months ago. It was the first time she’d looked at her hands with clipped nails and been grateful for it.

  “You okay?” Sean laughed nervously. His hand shifted on her waist, and he looked over his shoulder at the rug. “We should throw that away. It could be dangerous.”

  Ginny took a slow, calming breath and rubbed the toe of her ballet flat along the polished wood floor. She found her balance, caught her breath. “It’s ugly anyway.”

  It was. Hideous, in fact. Fluffy yarn of alternating green and brown and orange stripes, with a contrasting flowery border. Nothing like she’d ever have chosen. Now that she looked around the hall, she saw a lot of things she didn’t recognize, including an ugly telephone table. “I thought Bonnie said she was going to have someone come and get rid of all this stuff, except what we specifically requested to be left in the contract.”

  George Miller, the former owner, had died—in the hospital, thank God. Ginny didn’t consider herself superstitious, but she wasn’t sure she’d have been able to get past the idea of someone actually expiring in her house. They’d never met his son, Brendan, who’d inherited the house but whose lawyer had handled all the details. Brendan Miller had offered to let them take anything they wanted. Everything in the house, as a matter of fact. She’d asked only to keep the ugly but still serviceable barstools in the kitchen, a few of the lighting fixtures and the custom-made drapes in all the rooms, which were as hideous as the throw rug but better than the nothing she owned to replace them with.

  “Yeah…she was supposed to.”

  The rug and the