She did not want to be anywhere near the house when night fell.

Taking a deep breath, Laurie walked forward, gravel crunching beneath her feet. She reached the porch stairs, and it was as if her body were on automatic pilot. She grabbed a corner of the banister, leaned on it, then trailed her fingers along the wooden railing as she walked the four steps. It was the way she’d walked up these stairs as a child, and though the movements were instinctive, she was acutely aware of them, and she found it disconcerting to think that even though her mind had forgotten about the place for many years, her body apparently had not.

Josh followed close behind her, and the two of them stood on the porch for a moment, looking out at the yard, the drive, the surrounding trees. Everything seemed perfectly kept, well maintained, as though someone had been caring for the place all these years.

Mr. Billington.

No. That was impossible.

Still, the thought of it gave her a chill, and brave modern businesswoman that she was, she was glad Josh was here to protect her. Just in case.

She turned, looked at the front door. Dark brown wood with a small leaded-glass web window up above. What if it was locked? Neither she nor Josh had a key.

It wouldn’t be locked.

She knew that.

Laurie hesitated for a moment. She wanted to go inside, but what did she hope to see, what did she hope to find, what did she hope to discover? Did she really think that answers to the questions she had would be found within the house’s empty rooms? It was pointless, really, to go inside. They’d probably learn more by talking to neighbors, hunting down members of the local historical society.

An alarm was going off in her head, some hunch or intuition telling her to stay out, but that was exactly why she had to push on. There was something in the house. She didn’t know what it was or how she knew of its existence, but she knew that she could only find out what she needed to know by going into her old home.

She tried the door handle. It wasn’t locked, and she glanced over her shoulder at Josh. “Let’s go in,” she said.

She walked through the doorway.

And the door slammed shut behind her.

“Josh!” she screamed.

The door had obviously caught him as he was trying to enter. There was a thin line of blood on the edge of the wood, a small clump of hair at head level. Her heart was pounding crazily, and from the other side of the door she heard her brother scream.

“Josh!” she yelled. She tried the door, but now it was locked, and the pounding of her heart, the thumping of blood in her head, was almost as loud as her pounding on the door.