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I can’t think about Jin right now. If I suspected he was any threat to Keith, I’d stop whatever I was doing and deal with that first. But I don’t see any possible motive for those recordings that would involve hurting my brother.

Unless that’s his ultimate plan. Drive me to suicide and then kill my brother for the money.

I press my fingertips to my temples. I’m losing my mind. I really am.

And what if that’s not hyperbole? What if something reallyiswrong with me?

First I suspect Anton could have murdered Heather and framed Patrice. Then I think Jin is trying to drive me to suicide to claim Keith’s inheritance. Finally, I convince myself that Cirillo is stealing my story for a book.

Except I know the part about Cirillo is right. I read it upstairs.

Am I sure? If I really were spiraling into some kind of mental break, couldn’t I have hallucinated that?

I rub my temples.

I know what I saw.

Just like I saw Anton’s ghost last night? Saw my husband’s spirit lunging at me, his face twisted in rage? Like I’m sure that spade twisted in my hands and rammed into my shin?

Just like I’m sure that basement door swung shut after I propped it open?

Just like I’m sure someone tried to push me down the stairs and yanked out the bath mat?

Yes, damn it. Iamsure. If my imagination is edging into paranoia, that only applies to my fears about Anton and Jin. The rest is real, and if the rest is real, then can I be blamed for spiraling into wild theories about my husband and brother-in-law?

I’m forcing myself to question two people I love because whatever is happening here, it’s bad, and I need to consider even the ugliest—and most outlandish—possibilities.

I reach the main level. Shania is still in the breakfast nook. WhenI walk into the kitchen, it’s so dark that I think someone has pulled the blinds. Then I hear the buzzing. I hadn’t noticed it before now. Maybe I’d gotten inured to it the other day, and when it returned, I just didn’t notice.

Beyond the kitchen windows, the world is dark with a swarm of midges thicker than I’ve ever seen. I have to walk to the window to be sure of what I’m seeing. It is literally black outside the window.

Is that actually the bugs?

Yes, I can hear them, and I can see a few on the glass.

But are you sure that entire roiling swarm is midges?

What the hell else would it be?

Why aren’t the others noticing this?

I walk into the living room. Beyond it, I can see the back windows, and they’re just as dark. Yet Shania keeps working away in the breakfast nook.

Am I hallucinating?

Where the hell is Cirillo?

I rub my temples and ignore the bugs. Shania will be working with her headphones on and she’s probably pulled the blinds against the screen glare.

Now find Cirillo.

I’m passing the basement door when I catch a noise. I’m not even sure what it is—just something in the basement.

I ease open the door. It’s dark below, the lights all off. I’m standing at the top of the stairs, head tilted to figure out what I heard.

I’m reaching for that light switch when I stop. It’snotcompletely dark down there. My eyes have adjusted enough for me to see light shining from under the closed furnace-room door.

A door I left open last night.