Rounding the corner into the kitchen, I skidded to a stop on the tiles, confronted with the sight of Lucas battling to open the basement door. Charlotte stood nearby, her back pressed to the kitchen counter, hands covering her mouth.

I tore past her and, without thinking, grabbed one of Lucas’s hands, prying it free of the locked handle and inserting myself between him and the door. Flustered, Lucas backed off.

“The door,” he explained. “It . . . it shut on its own. Just before it did, I . . . I thought I saw—”

“No one goes into the basement alone,” I said. “You promised.”

His shocked expression told me that, in that moment, he hadn’t been thinking about what he’d promised. He hadn’t been thinking at all.

“It’s locked now,” he said, gesturing to the door. “So none of us are going down there.”

Maybe, for right now, that was for the best.

“Guuuuys?” came Patrick’s voice from the hall.

“Everybody’s okay,” Wes called back. “Though I can’t really say it was a false alarm.”

“No,” called Patrick. “All of you. Get in here.”

Lucas was the first to move, though not without grabbing my hand along the way. With forceful steps, he led me back down the hall and into the foyer. Charlotte and Wes followed close behind.

“Whose room is that right there?” Patrick asked when we arrived, pointing at a second-floor door.

“Mine,” I said.

“Yeah, well. Your door just opened all by itself.”

“Did you get it on camera?” asked Lucas.

“Negative,” replied Patrick. “Camera was aimed toward the back hall. Couldn’t pivot it in time.”

“Grab a digital, Wes,” Lucas said. “You and I can go check it out. You three”—he gestured to me, Charlotte, and Patrick—“stay together.”

“Like hell,” Charlotte snapped, snatching a camcorder from the duffel bag before starting after him. “I’m coming with you.”

“It’s Stephanie’s room,” said Wes. “Shouldn’t she go with Lucas?”

Charlotte and Lucas looked at Wes, dumbfounded.

“Charlotte and I can finish this floor,” Wes continued. “We stick with the plan to get the house cleaned. Obviously, we’re having an effect.”

Wes and Lucas shared a glare. But then Lucas broke from the group and, still holding my hand, took me with him. As we climbed the stairs, I got the distinct impression that Wes had orchestrated things for his own purposes, the way he had at the dance. Lucas, on the hunt, remained none the wiser. But I was certain that, as soon as Lucas and I were out of earshot, Wes would tell the others what I had let slip to him.

Lucas dropped my hand, but only once we were both beyond the threshold of my door. Was he taking me more seriously now after what he’d seen? And about that . . .

“What was it?” I asked him as he made a beeline for my closet. “What did you see?”

“This door,” he said, opening the closet. “Do you remember if it was like this last night? Closed, I mean.”