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My heart thuds as my gaze moves to the head of my bed. That’s the sound I heard last night. The ghostly echo of the dumbwaiter pulley.

Creak. Creak.

Wait. It’s not coming from over my head. It’s down by my feet. It must be something else—

No, I switched rooms. That’s where the dumbwaiter is now.

I reach for my phone. I’m going to record the sound.

“Nic?”

It’s Shania, her voice groggy with sleep. I turn to see her lifting her head from her pillow as she pushes up her sleep mask.

Creak. Creak.

“Do you hear that?” I say.

“Hear what?”

Creak. Creak.

“That.”

She peers at me. “I don’t hear anything.” She blinks hard and her eyes open wide. “Is it Anton?”

I shake my head. “Just the pipes creaking.”

She gives a soft laugh. “You reallydohave good hearing.” A pause. “Everything okay, Nic?”

“I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”

She lowers her eye mask and lies back down, and within minutes, the soft sound of deep breathing fills the room.

I lift my gaze to the ceiling.

No more footsteps.

Also, no more creaking “rope in pulley that doesn’t have a rope.”

I sit up to think. Then I see Shania. I need to let her sleep. No, mostly, I just don’t want her realizing anything’s wrong, but also, she should sleep.

I shiver, grab my wrapper, and head out. I can’t resist stopping by the attic door again. Still very much locked.

I head for the stairs. I take them slowly, but there’s no need. Nothing happens. The house is silent and still.

I walk to the kitchen and start to pour a glass of wine. Then I put the crystal glass aside and take down a plastic patio one instead, just in case something shoves me from behind and I fall, breaking glass that will manage to embed itself in my artery and I’ll bleed out on the floor.

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

The words seem to whisper inside my head, and I jump.

Where the fuck did that come from?

Okay, I amnotin the right mental place for this wine. I open the fridge and take a can of pop, emptying it into a plastic tumbler. There, safe from poltergeists breaking my glass and safe from fueling my muddled brain with alcohol.

I sip the pop and pad into the dining room. Then I keep walking. I intended to sit in the living room, but as I walk, I relax. I move to one of the breakfast-nook windows, struck by the urge to strollaround the garden, only to see a cloud of midges swirling around the yard.

They’re back.…