Two hours later, and I’m drifting in and out, nodding off for a couple minutes at a time, here and there. My brain is swirling with different fears and worries that won’t let me sleep. I’m thinking about Caitlyn’s first day of school tomorrow. What is that going to be like? I’ve done this before with Nicole and, I feel horrible about this, now, but last year, after we waved goodbye to Caitlyn as she got on the bus, Nicole and I went back inside and ‘celebrated’. This is going to be a lot different.

And what about the book? I was excited when I made the decision to dive in tomorrow, but I’m having horrible anxiety about writing a sequel. My agent said that the second book is always the hardest. Everyone loved the first one. What if I can’t pull it off again? I’ve already got the outline and had complete confidence in it when I lay down on the couch. Now, not so much.

And then there are the nightmares. What if I have another nightmare where Caitlyn gets hurt? I can’t take seeing her broken body in the back seat of the car in that intersection or floating face down in the lake. I’d almost rather not get any sleep at all than see anything like that again.

And finally, there’s this nebulous dread; this feeling that I shouldn’t close my eyes, that I shouldn’t turn my back on this house, not even for an instant …

This movie isn’t really helping, either.

It’s some haunted house movie starring George C. Scott. There’s a woman holding a séance where she’s scribbling on paper. A ghost takes control of her hand and writes messages on the paper and, for God’s sake, what the hell am I doing? I need to sleep.

I grab the remote and jab the power button.

“I can’t sleep …”

I search the darkness around me. It had to have come from the television as I was turning it off; one last snippet of dialogue before the signal was lost.

I pull the blanket up to my chin and settle my head onto the pillow …

Thump.

I let it go. I barely heard it; it was so faint. It has to be the plumbing or something—

Thump.

…

Thump.

With a grunt, I throw off the blanket and turn on the light.

Thump.

It’s coming from the Writing Room. It’s the same noise I heard yesterday when I was unpacking.

Thump.

I get up and walk through the darkness to the Writing Room.

Thump.

It came from the bookcase, just like yesterday. I snap the light on and stand there, waiting.

Nothing.

“Oh, come on,” I whisper.

Thump.

There it is. I walk over and inspect every inch of the bookcase, waiting for the sound, again.