“Maybe not. But the dollhouse sure is.” She released a ragged sigh. “Mom and Dad are right to be scared. How did it come back? I went with Mom to donate it!”

“One of them must have—”

“You know that’s not true, Jay.” Lou shook her head. “Something else is going on here—something … not right.”

“At least the dollhouse is in the basement now. Dad made sure of that after he brought you back inside from your sleepy hike.”

This made Lou smile. “Yeah, I heard him thumping it all the way down the stairs.”

“Maybe it broke.”

The dollhouse had once belonged to their mother. It stood almost three feet high and was nearly as wide as the antique trunk in the hall closet, where Mom kept extra bed linens. The roofline was filled with sharp points made of gables, turrets, and spires. The outside of the house was painted gray and black, and was covered in tall, skinny windows that made Jason think of ancient, haunted fortresses. And whenever anyone unlatched the dollhouse and swung it open, the hinges would squeal like a terrified animal pinned down by a hungry predator. Its rooms were linked in a confusing jumble—the total opposite of the simple, streamlined condo where the Benjamins lived. The dollhouse had always given Jason the heebie-jeebies, but now that it was haunting his sister’s dreams, he wished that his mom had never inherited it.

Lou backed away. He heard a quiver in her voice as she said, “I’d be happy if I never had to look at it again.”

A phone call pulled Jason out of a dreamless sleep, and when he wandered to the kitchen, he found his parents pacing. The anger of the previous night had been replaced by worry.

“What now?” asked Jason, thinking of the dollhouse. “Is Lou okay?”

“She’s still in bed,” said Dad.

His mom took his hands and sat him down. “Aunt Paige just called from Ohio. Your cousin Marcus is missing.”

Jason felt something in his chest tighten. “But we just saw him a few months ago.” Dad covered his face with his hands. Jason realized how silly he must sound. Every day, people see each other for the last time.

Mom continued. “Aunt Paige said that yesterday morning, he was simply … gone. He’d taken his cello and a bag with some clothes. They think he might have run away.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know, honey. But your aunt needs my support. I’m booking a flight to Ohio this afternoon. And I’m taking Lou with me.”

Jason flinched. “Lou?”

Dad chimed in. “It might be good for your sister to get away from Walnut Creek for a while.”