I closed my eyes, not wanting to think about it. Not wanting to dwell on how close I may have come to being discovered out of bed, exploring rooms I had no right to explore, bleeding my gross orphan nose-blood on their fancy bedsheets.

And dark, spidery suspicions crept around the edges of my thoughts—Laura’s questions about my health, about lingering effects of the accident.

I fell asleep, that’s all, I insisted to myself. And if I was smart, I’d get some more sleep so I wasn’t a zombie all day.

I crushed my eyelids shut.

Then I heard a sound from the nursery.

Had I woken Agatha? I held my breath and listened, hearing nothing else, but still feeling a tingle of suspicion that someone was moving around out there.

Finally, I swung my feet to the floor and got up, opening the door and peeking out.

Agatha stood in the center of the room. The faint light from the lamp behind her turned her silhouette into a glowing halo.

Somehow, though I’d expected to see something, I hadn’t expected to see her, standing there, in that peculiarly intense posture. I clutched my chest and let out a gasping “God, you scared me!”

She didn’t move. Had she forgotten who I was? Had I scared her?

I held my breath for a moment, then said, “It’s okay, it’s just me. Margot.”

She seemed to sway slightly, but didn’t speak.

“Go back to bed,” I said firmly. “It’s not morning yet.”

She turned and walked away, and I shut the door and returned to bed. I would have locked myself in my room, but the door didn’t have a lock, so I had to settle for shifting the small nightstand over a few inches to block the doorway. Then I kept my eyes on the knob, waiting for any sign that she was trying to enter.

The thought of Agatha scurrying soundlessly and maliciously around the nursery while I was trapped in here made me feel shaky and restless.

Laura and John clearly believed Agatha was a silent, well-behaved angel.

But I wasn’t quite so sure.

CHAPTER

8

I FINALLY MANAGED to go back to sleep. Later (maybe after an hour? two? four?), there was a soft knock on my door, and I got up and opened it before I remembered that I was a little afraid of Agatha.

But it was Laura who stood outside, wearing a baby-blue silk blouse and a pair of white pants, with a small blue-and-white scarf knotted neatly around her neck. Her hair was in a low, tidy bun, and her makeup was perfect. I wondered how long it took her to get ready in the morning. You got the feeling she had it down to a ruthless science, without a single second wasted.