My father slips the key over my head, and grips my shoulders, fingers so tight it hurts a little, as he kisses my forehead. “I’m just gonna check things out, okay?”
“Daddy, I’m scared. Why can’t we just stay here?”
“We have no food, and we’re running low on water. I can’t get a signal on my cellphone in this room.”
“But I don’t want to leave.”
“It’s gonna be okay. He points toward one of the monitors. “You can watch me on those cameras, okay?” At my nod, he goes on. “When you hear three knocks at the door, I want you to unlock it, and we’ll leave together. Three knocks, okay? Knock, knock, knock.”
“You’ll come with me?”
“Yes. But if something happens, I want you to run. Run to Mr. Guidry’s as fast as you can. Tell him to take you to Russ James. 1224 Regnier. Man’s name is Russ James, do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Now, wait here for my signal. Three knocks.”
“Knock, knock, knock,” I whisper, as the scene fades back to the quiet chamber and the subtle flicker of my lantern. Knock, knock, knock.
Three, two, one.
A countdown.
One that’s always snapped me out of my head. Self-hypnotically, almost.
It was the signal my father told me that night. Only it never came.
Why?
“Why didn’t you knock on the door?” I whisper.
Black curling tendrils seep into my thoughts, darkening the edges.
Screwing my eyes shut brings to mind a blanched, white skull with horns, worn as a mask, by a man wearing all black. I know him as the Goatman.
Why?
“Minou, minou, where are you?”
A shuddered breath escapes me, and I open my eyes to sever the visual. “My mother …” A sense of urgency beats through me. “Tell me who she was. Tell me her full name.” But twisting around shows nothing but the emptiness where my father stood only moments ago. As if he’s disappeared. As if he was never there to begin with.
Brushing my fingers across my forehead, I mentally run through the last few minutes. I must’ve sleep-walked again.
At the sound of something shifting in the walls, I freeze in place, eyes fixed on the surrounding darkness, and I focus on its source. Someone, or something, on the main floor.
Long strides. Human.
Right here is the safest place in the house, I’m betting, though it would suck if whoever is out there decided to camp in the house for the night, leaving me trapped in the heart of it, surrounded by a bunch of satanic crap.
Standing up from the chair, I wait. Listen.
Seconds turn to minutes, while the footsteps thump against the chamber’s ceiling. Whoever’s up there must be scoping the house out, and my hope is that the hole in the wall will be ignored, seeing as there really wasn’t anything that looked to be of any value in the reading room with the secret door.
The door.
Left open.
If someone did find me down here, I’d be trapped with them. No other doors, or means of escape from this chamber.
A minute passes with no footsteps.
Another minute.
Counting off in my head brings me to three more minutes, which actually feels like twenty, and no further movement. I tuck the envelope with the chip and business card back inside the file of what I’m still not entirely certain is my mother’s, and gather it up, along with my lantern, the music box, the leather-bound book, and the weird goat statue. All things I want to study a little closer—minus the morbid picture that I’m certain will give me nightmares later.
Arms full, I take careful steps up the winding staircase, back up to the reading room, and after piling everything onto the floor just inside the cubby, I flick off the light. With careful placement of my hands, I try to avoid any creaking boards and peek through the door, where, ahead of me, I can spy the hole in the wall, thanks to the moonlight through the window.
I wait. Watching for a flicker of a flashlight.
Nothing but stillness.
Seconds tick off in my head, and when another minute passes, I slip through the door and push to my feet.
A force hits my throat, and the air trapped there explodes past my lips. My body flies backward. A hard surface hits my spine, sending a zap of pain down my back, and I flinch at the ache. Blinding light hits my face, and I clamp my eyes closed to shield against it as best I can.
Adrenaline finally kicking in, I grip the arm at my throat, taking