“Perhaps it’s somewhere else in the room?” Will said, looking around.

We started to search. The lights flickered a few times, the rain blew through the broken windows 292in icy sprays, and we were both soon damp and shivering. But there was no sign of any trapdoor.

“There’s got to be a way down there,” Will said. “Maybe the entrance is outside. Or perhaps you access it through the basement we were in before?”

“Maybe,” I replied. But my eyes were still fixed on the floor where the table had been.

“I really feel like it’s right here, though.” I dropped to my knees and ran my hands carefully over the wood.

There was one plank that didn’t feel quite as flat as the others, so I dug my nails into the edges and tugged. It came free in a cloud of dust. We were able to remove several more floorboards after that, and there, at last, was the trapdoor. You could tell just by looking at it that it was part of something even older than the rest of the lighthouse. The wood was dull and dark, the silver hoop in the middle rusted with age, and there were two large metal bolts fastened across it.

Something about it made a cold sweat break out on the back of my neck. It felt wrong in the same way the white hands at the window had been wrong. Perhaps Will sensed it too because we both moved back, away from the trapdoor. The wind 293howled outside, sounding alarmingly like a person, and I could feel the hairs rising on my arms.

“It’s locked from the outside,” Will said, staring down at it. “As if it was meant to keep something in.”

I longed to run from that trapdoor. To get out of the lighthouse and never look back.

As if sensing my thoughts, Will suddenly took my hand. “You don’t have to do this,” he said softly. “You can go. Back to your family.”

For a moment, I thought he was right. I wondered why I was even considering opening that trapdoor. Why on earth would anyone open it? But then it came back to me. Someone was missing. My sister. It took a moment but I finally managed to grab hold of her name. I held on with all my might, determined not to lose it again.

“I’m going down there,” I said. “For Rosie.”

Will sighed and squeezed my hand. “Me too,” he said. “For Kenzie.”

I slid the bolts back before wrapping my fingers around the metal ring. It was icy cold to the touch, like taking hold of a dead person’s hand.

I glanced at Will. “Ready?”

“Ready.” 294