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Mister Shadow might not have been real, but the tapping certainly was. The only explanation I could think of was the most obvious one: an intruder had entered Baneberry Hall.
“Someone’s inside the house,” I whispered.
The noise was now an unbroken stream, so loud and so close. It seemed to pass right by the bedroom door, even though no motion accompanied it.
Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.
The sound began to recede as it continued down the hall, seemingly heading to the steps that led to the third floor.
I bolted from the bed, determined to follow it. “You and Maggie stay right here.”
Jess protested. “Ewan, wait—”
If she said anything else, I didn’t hear it. By then I was already running down the hallway, trying to locate the source of the—
Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.
I looked up and down the hallway. Nothing was there. Certainly nothing that could have caused something as strange as that—
Tap-tap-tap-tap.
The sound had become quieter, almost as if it had moved to another section of the house. I heard one lasttapbefore it died away completely, leaving me standing in a silent hallway.
It didn’t last long.
Within seconds, I heard something else.
Music.
Coming from directly above me.
“You are sixteen, going on seventeen—”
I bolted up the steps to the third floor, taking them two at a time. When the door to my study edged into view, I saw that it was closed, a thin strip of light visible just beneath it.
“Baby, it’s time to think.”
I knew I should have turned back, but by then it was too late. Whoever was behind that door had heard me coming. Besides, momentum kept me moving. Up the rest of the steps, through the door, into the study.
“Better beware—”
Just like the other night, the study was empty. It was just me and the record player and the damn album spinning and spinning and spinning.
“—be canny—”
I turned it off, the song mutating as the turntable slowed to a stop. I then examined the study, wondering where the intruder had gone.
And how he had caused those taps.
And if it was going to happen again.
Because it had already happened once before. Two nights ago, when I’d first heard the record player. That hadn’t been Jess or Maggie or a goddamn mouse.
The realization that our home had been broken into twice now rattled me. With shaking hands, I removed the record from the turntable and stuffed it into its cardboard sleeve. I saw no need to give the intruder a chance to play it a third time. I then unplugged the record player and put it back inside its case. Both cases were then put back in the closet where I found them.
Then I went downstairs to call the police.
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