Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Sybil slept heavily. So much so that the polite knocking on her door startled her out of a deep sleep.

“What?” She slurred the word, and she realized in that half-awake half-asleep part of her brain that she sounded like one of those heavily drunk people who are arrested on that live cop program. “Wait a minute.”

The room was chilly and illuminated by a nightlight she’d plugged into an electrical outlet in the ensuite bathroom and a touch of light from outdoors. She groaned. That meant it was way later than she’d realized. Another knock on the door. She clicked on the table lamp next to her on the bedside table.

She stuffed her feet into her slippers, grabbed her phone to use as a flashlight and hurried to open the door. One sconce in the hallway was barely lit. She looked both ways. No one was there. Shocked, it took her a minute to register the fact. What the hell? She stepped into the hall and looked both ways. When she looked to the left, back toward the staircase, she noticed something on the runner.

“You’re kidding me,” she whispered. “What the hell?”

She stepped on the red paisley material and spotted the footprints. They were muddy. Muddy enough that they’d have to use the carpet cleaner.

She took a couple of steps and knelt by one of the footprints. They weren’t particularly large and had big treads like a hiking boot. The back of her neck prickled, and she stood up swiftly and looked behind her back toward her door. No one was in the hallway. Not a sound. Then she heard movement down on the staircase. Someone was coming up the stairs. She held her breath. Unsure. A bizarre panic taking hold. She took a step back. Another. Stepped in a muddy footprint.

She lifted her foot out of the track. Ick! Right at that moment, Letisha appeared at the top of the stairs, fully dressed and looking composed. She held her phone as well, using it as a flashlight. She stopped when she saw the tracks and Sybil.

“Damn it,” Letisha hissed the words. “Up here, too?” She headed toward Sybil, her mouth a taut line and anger in her eyes. “I got up early because I couldn’t sleep and saw this outside my room. Who did this?”

The accusatory tone in Letisha’s voice took Sybil off guard. That minor part of her triggered by other people’s anger froze up. She couldn’t think of a thing to say as her mind went blank.

Letisha stopped next to Sybil. “Who did this?”

Sybil snapped out of her stupor.

“Damned if I know.” Sybil threw her arms up. “Someone knocked on my door just now and when I opened the door, no one was there.”

Letisha had dressed for cold in a violent pink fleece pullover that contrasted with her dark skin and the blaze in her eyes. Her denim overalls and boots were worn. “You mean they went into a room in this hallway?”

Sybil looked around. “I don’t know how they could’ve. I mean…it took me a moment, so maybe. They’d have to be some sort of world-class sprinter. I would’ve heard a door slam.”

“Someone’s been tracking mud everywhere in the house.” Letisha folded her arms.

Sybil’s mouth dropped open. “No way. Do you think Pauline or Maria did it?”

Letisha sighed. “Well, either they did, we did it sleepwalking, or that intruder we thought was gone is still in the house. In which case, we need to call that sheriff’s deputy. I half wish it was Pauline or Maria because the idea of there being someone else around here…”

Sybil considered all of that for a few seconds. “I don’t think Pauline and Maria did it. And I sure as hell didn’t. I fell into bed early last night and slept like a zombie. What time is it?”

Letisha glanced at her watch. “Seven. I thought you said you were getting up at five?”

Sybil’s heart tripped. “Shit.” Sybil rubbed her face and turned back toward her room. “I could’ve sworn I set my phone to go off at five. God. Look, let me grab a shower, and I’ll be downstairs fast. Where are Maria and Pauline?”

“Don’t know where Maria is. I knocked on her door and she didn’t answer. Pauline is downstairs looking like she wants to kill someone because of the mud.”

“Can’t say I blame her. Can you check on Maria again?”

Letisha turned back the way she’d come. “Sure. Why not?”

Sybil returned to her own room, closed the door and almost walked away. She hesitated. Returned to the door and locked it. She checked her phone. She’d set it to five in the morning.

“Shit.”

She turned the phone off and turned it back on again and hoped that would fix a glitch if there was one.

Flummoxed, she headed to the bathroom. Surely if the alarm rang, and she slept like the dead, she would’ve heard the snooze alarm at some point. Pissed at herself, she went into the bathroom to prepare for what looked like a long day.

* * *

Letisha, Maria, Pauline and Sybil congregated in the Great Hall near the fireplace. Daylight crept through the large windows and even the cloud cover couldn’t keep it all out. They’d turned on the chandelier light and other table lamps nearby.

They looked at the muddy footprints that tracked across the hardwood floor and the huge square area rug in the middle of the room, which extended to the three couches arranged in a square around an enormous square coffee table.

Sybil looked at her employees and her stomach sank. She didn’t need this shit. This uncertainty. This damned weirdness. Her stomach tossed.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Letisha said, a scowl still on her face.

“That’s for sure,” Maria said.

Pauline crossed her arms, her own frown in place. “Where were you this morning, Maria?”

Pauline stared at Maria, but the young woman appeared almost dazed as she examined the tracks on the floor.

“Maria?” Pauline’s voice snapped like a whip.

Sybil’s first instinct to tell Pauline to fuck off almost kicked in, but the part of her that detested and feared conflict kept her mouth shut.

Maria still looked stunned and continued to examine the footprints.

Sybil said, “She explained. Walking on the property.”

Pauline’s cool gaze flicked to Sybil, but then went back to Maria.

Maria mimicked Pauline’s stance by folding her arms. She glared at Pauline. “You think I tracked this stuff around the entire house before you all got out of bed. And somehow I did it without anyone catching me?”

“Well, if you were outside walking and came back in, it’s plenty wet out there. You’d have mud on your feet,” Pauline said. “What were you doing out there in the dark?”

Sybil wondered the same, but she waited for the younger woman to respond.

“I don’t know,” Maria said. “I just…”

A shiver ran over Sybil when Maria didn’t finish.

Letisha leaned on one side of the enormous fireplace. “Look at that one track over there. It’s half under the leg of that huge side table by the fireplace. She would have to drag the table across the hardwood floor, put her muddy footprint down, then drag the table back over it and leave the heel showing. And there are no other tracks around it. If she’d dragged it across this floor we would’ve heard something. There’s no rug under it. How do we explain a footprint half under the damned table?”

Sybil hadn’t seen that track until now, and she walked toward it, nausea roiling her stomach. “I agree. I don’t understand how someone did that without making a racket. Yes, this is a big house, but…well, at least you guys on the second floor should’ve heard it. Whoever did it was fast,” Sybil said. “As I mentioned, my alarm didn’t go off and someone knocked on my door. I got out of bed right away and there was no one there. The hallway is long. No one could’ve run down the hallway without me seeing or hearing them. Especially if they’re stomping along in boots.”

“Then maybe we need to call the cops again. Or search this property up and down. Every last room,” Pauline said.

Sybil was tired of it. “No. We need to get work started. Clean this up and--”

Pauline snorted. “What? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Letisha cleared her throat. “I think Pauline is right. Whoever did this must have a key to the place. It’s not safe to ignore this.”

Humiliation rose inside Sybil, and her face heated. She instantly questioned herself.

“Fine.” Sybil threw her hands up quickly. “You guys call the cops. I’m going to eat something. I’m starving.”

Unable to look them all in the eye, she tromped across the hall, careful to avoid the tracks and into the short hallway that led to the back of the house.

She passed the formal dining room and segued left into the connecting kitchen. She stopped in the doorway a moment, hearing Pauline using her cell phone to call law enforcement. Resentment rose inside her, even if she knew she shouldn’t feel this way.

She entered the massive kitchen, marveling at the high ceiling, the large stained-glass windows on the south side that allowed in the muted morning light. The stained glass featured astrological figures, and that alone captured her eye. She hadn’t noticed that yesterday. Weird for a Victorian motif, but maybe a later owner had installed them and not the original builder. A generously sized fireplace graced the far left of the kitchen, a dark, rather rustic table and chairs nearby. Someone had modernized it all in an approximation of an old Victorian era kitchen in a high-class estate. Yet the appliances worked in the modern way. They wouldn’t have to rough it with cooking.

She grabbed a granola bar from the pantry. She ripped it open and leaned back against the granite countertop and stared at the wall. A headache started in her temples, so she grabbed her large traveler mug and poured it full of black coffee.

Letisha walked into the kitchen, her brow a little knitted in apparent concern. “Hey.”

Sybil sipped her coffee. “SWAT coming?”

Letisha smiled. “They’re sending a deputy again. Maybe it’ll be our friend, Deputy Annapolis. She might be a skinny chick, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she had some military training and could kick anyone’s ass.”

Sybil’s ire loosened at her friend’s lighthearted tone. “I wouldn’t be surprised either.”

“I asked Maria and Pauline to clean the bathrooms. That’ll keep them busy for a damned long time. They’re starting on the third floor and working their way down.”

Sybil ate her granola bar with gusto. “Good.”

“Don’t sound so satisfied. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You sounded annoyed back there when you said you didn’t want the cops to investigate.”

Sybil finished the last bite of granola, chewing and swallowing before replying. “I just want us to finish this job in a timely manner. We need that money.” Sybil waved one hand. “The business has taken a hit. We’ve moved past that, and we’ll plow through any minor hiccups that might happen in this house. I’d like to finish quickly.”

“Didn’t Clarice say to take as long as it takes?”

“Yeah. But this house...”

Sybil’s gaze snagged on Letisha’s and noted the doubt in her friend’s eyes. Of course. She shut up.

“What about it?” Wariness crossed Letisha’s face.

“I don’t want to take weeks to clean this place. Clarice is paying us over our usual fee, and we promised a short timeline even though she said to take our time. I don’t like to break my promises.”

“Right. And?”

“People won’t wait for us forever. Other clients on our waiting list might become impatient and move on. And I couldn’t blame them.”

Letisha walked to the pantry and grabbed a granola bar. She smiled and lifted the bar. “Breakfast of champions.” She took her own travel mug and filled it with coffee. She settled down at the long table. “We’ll make this work. Look, I’m sorry. I understand what you’re saying. But these tracks mean someone has been in here that shouldn’t be. We can’t gamble with our safety.”

Sybil sat at the table as well and cupped her coffee mug for the warmth. Her sweater and jeans didn’t seem to fend off the cold. “You’re right, of course. But there’s something weird I didn’t mention to the others.”

Letisha stopped with the mug halfway to her mouth. She tilted her head to the side. “What?”

Sybil rubbed the back of her neck. “Don’t you think it’s strange that we can’t find an originating spot for where the mud tracking person entered the house? Or left it? I mean, the tracks start a door down from my room, run all the way down the staircase, through the main hall and then end in the library. Not to mention the weird track under that table.”

The library also served as an office. A window faced north at the front of the house and another window to the east.

Letisha stared at the table, her expression unreadable. “It’s strange, but not impossible. If someone is screwing with us, they might go to elaborate means to set it up. We just don’t know how they did it.”

Sybil considered it. “I suppose there could be a secret entrance in and out of the house.”

Letisha pointed at Sybil. “That’s it. There must be a secret passage.”

Unease struck Sybil, the world had gone off its poles, and she’d been the only one to notice it. “The mud bandit took his shoes off, so the tracks stayed in the middle of the library and then walked over to the secret passage and poof. Disappeared.”

“Something like that. Maybe that’s how they made the shoe mark halfway under the table.”

Sybil doubted that was the case, but she didn’t want to discuss it now.

Letisha shoved back her chair. “Now that we’ve solved it, time to get off our asses and do some work while we wait for a deputy to show up. We can’t stick around here with our thumbs up our asses.”

“Right,” Sybil said. “Let’s get to work.”

* * *

Deputy Annapolis made notes as she stood in the library. She’d arrived faster than Sybil expected. It took her only thirty minutes after Pauline’s call for the deputy to appear. She’d already cleared the house.

“You were the first one to notice the muddy tracks,” the deputy asked as she looked at Letisha.

Letisha nodded patiently. “That’s right. I came out of my room and when I got to the landing above the stairs, that’s when I saw them. I followed them all the way into the library.”

The deputy took another note and stuffed the small notebook into a pocket in her cargo-like pants. Hands on her hips, she turned around in a full circle, taking her time as she examined the room.

Sybil wondered what was going on behind the woman’s cool expression. She seemed a bit more doubtful during this visit, as if she thought they were lying to her. Or one of them, anyway.

She pinpointed her gaze on Letisha and Sybil. “So you don’t know if there’s any secret squirrel access holes in here, right?”

“No. I’ll put in a call to the owner,” Sybil said.

“Wouldn’t she have told before you cleaned her house?” Annapolis asked.

Letisha settled down in a chair. “Maybe not. I mean, she didn’t hire us to clean something like that. For example, we aren’t cleaning the windows.”

The deputy looked at the floor and stayed silent for so long, Sybil wondered if she should fill in the gap. Finally the woman said, “Anything else unusual happen around this house?”

The question seemed a little weird to Sybil, but she said, “No.”

“What do you mean by weird?” Letisha asked.

The deputy shrugged. “Sometimes these old places have quirks. People can make a mountain out of a molehill, as they used to say. Noises you wouldn’t be used to, for example.”

Letisha sat up straighter. “I wouldn’t call someone tracking mud through the house a molehill.”

Annapolis smiled, and it looked genuine. “Sorry. I’m not trying to minimize this. Well, okay. Maybe I am. I’ve been doing this job a long time, and we’ve gotten calls from people way out here that are pretty strange. I blame the trees.”

“The trees?” Sybil’s curiosity burned.

The deputy shrugged her thin shoulders yet again. “They’re big and weird and block out a lot of sun. We also get UFO calls. Even a Bigfoot call once.” The slight smirk widened. “Not that there are many houses out here. I think there’s like five in the total area where these trees grow this size.” She walked to the library window that faced the north. “I’d make sure you keep the doors locked at all times. Just in case.”

“In case Bigfoot walks through the house again?” Letisha lifted one eyebrow as she smiled.

The deputy grinned. “Yes. By the way, I’ll need the owner’s number.”

Sybil rattled it off while the cop entered the number on her phone.

Annapolis left a short time after that. Letisha and Sybil stood in the Great Hall.

“She thinks we’re full of shit,” Sybil said. “And I wouldn’t blame her.”

“Maybe.” Letisha shrugged. “Wait, we better call Clarice now, before the deputy does.”

Sybil sat down on the couch that faced the gargantuan fireplace. Letisha sat on the couch to the right of her.

Clarice’s phone went to voice mail, and Sybil left a message giving her updated details and explaining the deputy might call her.

Sybil leaned back on the couch. “Well, that’s that. Let’s clean up these footprints.”

Letisha smiled. “Flip you for who does cleanup.”

“Huh. How about we do it together?”

“Okay, but this is a one-person job.”

Sybil felt unsure how to react to this entire morning. “I’ll do it. What do you want to start on?”

“The cabinets in the kitchen need a good clean up and oiling, but I think that should be last considering we’re using the kitchen every day. I’ll work on the parlor.”

The Great Hall already held the supplies they needed to clean the rest of the house, so Letisha grabbed what she needed and headed to the parlor. Sybil sighed and grabbed the vacuum cleaner she’d need to start on the carpet. Thank god for industrial equipment. Plus, she’d need the carpet cleaner. She started on the third floor. Because there was no elevator, she made three trips upstairs to the hallway. She intended to start outside her bedroom door and work her way to the stairs. As she reached the bedroom before hers, that’s when she saw something. The footsteps now led all the way down the hallway...and ended at the large window to the west that hovered over the big terrace below.

“What the hell?” she whispered. “No way.”

Surprise and unease crawled over her. How had she missed those footprints the first time? She walked to the end of the hall and looked to the left. More sets of large windows looked over the terrace below and led to the bedrooms on the south side of the house on this floor. She continued down the hall toward the south side, thankful for the sun breaking through clouds. The hallway seemed less isolated. She shivered as the wild sensation that she wasn’t alone bothered her. She stopped and looked back. No one was there. Her heartbeat quickened.

“Get a grip,” she said.

At the same time, she knew “something” was there. Something. Even with her heartbeat still tripping in her chest, she continued her walk and followed the muddy footprints down the hall and then to the left in front of all the other third-floor bedrooms. More footprints down the south hall, until she’d returned to the landing which connected to the second floor and the west bedrooms. She scrubbed a hand over her face. This couldn’t be happening. Yet it was. Anger lit up inside her, mixed with humiliation. Was Pauline doing this? Was someone else in her group? She drew in a deep breath and used a technique the therapist had suggested called the 333 method, which worked for her whenever anxiety hit. She noted three things she could see around her.

The wall. The carpet. A sconce.

Three things she could hear.

What did she hear? The sound of Letisha running the other vacuum cleaner? She couldn’t hear Pauline or Maria working on the bathrooms and bedrooms on the second floor. The wind? No. She couldn’t hear it. This house’s stone structure was too solid to hear the weather outside unless a thunderstorm unleashed lightning like it had yesterday. Nope. She heard nothing else.

What did she feel? Her hair tickling her neck. The clothes on her body. Her breath moving in and out.

What did she smell? Pipe smoke. She sniffed deeply. Surprised. Someone was smoking a pipe in here? No--

She stepped forward until she could see the north side bedrooms again. And that’s when she saw it.

“No fucking way,” she said out loud. This time the words coming out harsh and louder than she would normally speak.

That door hadn’t been open when she’d been in the hall a few short minutes ago.

With a sound of disgust, she walked swiftly toward her bedroom door. She stopped in front of the slightly ajar door for a second, hesitating. What if the person who’d been messing with them was in the bedroom right now? If she called sheriff’s department again, this situation would turn into a shit show. No, she wasn’t doing it.

With her belly jumping with nerves, and her heart stumbling from time-to-time, she noticed that someone had left the door cracked open about four inches.

“Hello. Is anyone there?”

Silence.

A heavy weight.

She listened. Nothing. Okay, it was now or never. Time to step in there. She reached for the door handle.

Shuffling came from behind her.

She gasped, turned around. Letisha stood there at the end of the hallway.

“Jesus,” Sybil said as her friend headed down the hall toward her. “You scared the shit outta me.”

Letisha frowned. “I was checking on the ladies on the second floor and didn’t hear the vacuum on up here.”

Sybil shook her head and kept her voice lower. “I think there’s someone in my room.”

Letisha screwed up her face. “What?”

“Look down the hall. All the way to the window and all the way to the south end hall on this floor. There are new footprints. They weren’t here earlier.” She hesitated and then took the chance she wouldn’t sound like a funny farm occupant. “When I investigated the south side and then came back this way, my door was open. It wasn’t before. Someone is jerking us around.”

Unease flashed over Letisha’s face. “Shit.”

Sybil’s imagination recalled a scene with a character in a movie where the woman was so over a situation that she pointed at her neck and begged someone to strangle her.

Do it! Do it! Just do it! The character had closed her eyes and tilted her head back as she said it.

Do it. Do it. Do it.

Sybil pushed her bedroom door open and walked inside.

“Wait,” Letisha almost hissed the word.

Sybil looked around. No one was in the room. “Unless they’re in the bathroom or under the bed.” She headed toward the ensuite bathroom. The door was halfway closed. She reached for it and pushed it open. “If there’s anyone in here--”

Empty. Letisha came in behind her.

Letisha sighed. “Well, at least this isn’t The Shining. Otherwise you’d have an old, nasty, rotting woman moldering in the bathtub.”

Sybil snorted a laugh as she looked at Letisha. Letisha joined her. They couldn’t stop for a moment, practically choking on their mirth.

Letisha asked, “Shouldn’t we check in the closet and under the bed for murderers?”

“You’re right. We should. Let’s do it together.”

Safety in numbers. Right.

Sybil headed for her bed, and they both looked under it from either side.

“Nothing under here but a millennium’s worth of dust,” Sybil said. “Maybe I should clean up this room next.”

They stood, and Letisha went for the closet. She slid open one side. It rolled open easily. They looked in. Way in the back.

“Nothing in here other than my clothes,” Sybil said after a cursory glance.

Sybil scrubbed one hand through her hair. She looked around the room, and even the tall windows didn’t let in that much light. She hurried to the windows and pulled back the dark purple velvet drapes, and a puff of dust floated off.

Letisha wrinkled her nose. “This room really has that whole gothic vampire undead thing going on. All it needs is a coffin.”

Sybil couldn’t help but smile. “It is disturbing, isn’t it?” She took in the sumptuously carved mahogany headboard. The huge dusty chandelier that hung down from the ceiling in the center of the room. “Hey, at least Clarice hired professionals to clean all the chandeliers in this place. What a nightmare.”

Tinkle. Tinkle.

Sybil’s gaze snapped upward to the chandelier. A couple of multi-faced teardrop crystals move a hair’s breadth.

Letisha said, “Draft.”

Sure. It’s a draft. Just a draft. It’s gotta be that, right?

Disquiet built in Sybil. Not because she thought it was a ghost. No, something worse maybe. Maybe.

“If there isn’t a burglar or some other creep in this house, then maybe I didn’t notice the new muddy footprints going around the whole top floor,” Sybil said.

Letisha looked at the bedroom door, which was still open. “I suppose that door just isn’t latching right. That has to be it.”

“One theory...but I know you won’t like it.”

Impatience flashed through Letisha’s dark eyes. “Ghosts?”

Yes. Sybil wanted to say. Maybe.

Instead she said, “Pauline or Maria. Although I’m not sure why Maria would do anything like this. Especially this elaborate.”

Letisha shook her head and started for the doorway. “When would they find the time? How? We’re pretty much in each other’s pockets. How would someone have made these footprints in the time we were downstairs? That’s a pretty colossal risk that we wouldn’t catch them.” She gripped the doorknob. “I’ll get back to work.”

“I’m going to try Clarice again.”

“Sounds good.” Letisha left and closed the door behind her.

Sybil sat on the bed and contemplated what had happened since they’d arrived at the house. A shiver danced over her arms like tiny spider feet rushing to escape destruction from a killer shoe. She’d wanted to ask Letisha why this whole thing didn’t bother her more, but a lot didn’t faze Letisha. Sybil envied the confidence that oozed from her friend’s pores. She always had.

Letisha the beautiful. The smart straight-A student with scholarships and boyfriends.

“Stop it,” she whispered and unzipped her belt bag to retrieve her cell phone. “This isn’t high school.”

The cell phone rang, and the Clare de Lune ring tone and name flashing on the screen told her who was calling.

“Clarice. I was just going to call you again.”

“Darling,” came Clarice’s sophisticated tone that reminded Sybil of Katherine Hepburn’s Mid-Atlantic accent, even though Clarice had been born in Colorado. “I’m so sorry I didn’t answer earlier. I had a doctor’s appointment for an X-Ray. Damned knee arthritis. Aging is hell sometimes. Feels some days as if pieces of me are going to start dropping off like a leper’s skin.”

Sybil laughed, surprised. “Hope the knee will be okay?”

“I need a knee replacement. Within the next six months.”

“Ouch.”

“Comes with the eighty-year price tag. How do you like the house?”

Sybil went for an uncontroversial statement. “It’s huge. But beautiful.”

“I hope it’s not too nasty. I should have sold it long ago, but I couldn’t part with it. And those last tenants...well, that would probably put anyone off of wanting to rent it from me.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Sybil hadn’t wanted to think much about it, even though she had anyway. “You mean because they disappeared?”

“Yep. It’s disturbing. I still can’t understand what happened. And when their relatives wouldn’t take the couple’s belongings...that was strange. I forgot to ask you if while you’re there cleaning, if you wouldn’t consider getting their stuff hauled out of there. There’s a company that will take it.”

Sybil frowned. “Are you sure? Didn’t the police want it?”

“They went over everything, took fingerprints...nothing seemed to interest them, so they left it in the house. Would it be worth a thousand-dollar bonus on top of what I’m already paying you to arrange for the items to be taken out?”

A little thrill ran through Sybil. “A thousand dollars? No. I mean, that’s way too much.”

“I insist. This is something extra you didn’t have in mind when you started. Would the extra time interfere with your next job after mine?”

“No. We have nothing scheduled for more than a month after we finish here.” Sybil winced, realizing she’d exaggerated the timeline a little.

“It’s settled then. I’ll email the item list to you. Now, you were trying to reach me before this Adonis cop did, right?”

“Deputy Annapolis.”

“Right. She hasn’t tried to call me yet.”

Sybil paced the floor, her athletic shoes squeaking each time she tread from the rug to the hardwood. Sybil explained the figure Maria had seen as well as the ghost-like figure Sybil had witnessed in the window of this bedroom. Before Clarice could ask anything about that information, Sybil rushed to tell her all about the muddy footprints and then the additional prints appearing a short time ago.

Sybil took a big breath. “Letisha and I checked my bedroom. It’s all clear.”

“Which bedroom did you pick again?”

“The purple gothic one on the third floor.”

“Oh.” Clarice’s voice sounded self-assured. “That’s interesting.”

“Why?”

“That’s the room the young couple used as their bedroom before they disappeared.”

A new ripple of something unclean seemed to touch Sybil. She shivered and increased the speed of her pacing. “Thanks, Clarice. That’s really creepy.”

The older woman laughed. “Sorry. By the way, they left a suitcase behind in that closet. The police looked at that and put it back, too.”

“Wow. Okay.” Sybil cleared her throat. “I didn’t see it in there, but I didn’t look all the way in the back.”

“I’m pretty sure all it contained was photos.”

“Okay, I’ll put it in a pile to haul out of here. Back to the subject at hand. I’m afraid to ask what you think of the figures we saw. People. Whatever they are. And the footprints.”

“Hmm. Well, it could be a lot of things. It’s an old house. I believe the shadow of things that have happened before can manifest in the present.”

Okay. Well, at least she doesn’t think I’m insane.

Sybil took a chance. “Did you see ghosts when you visited here?”

“Oh, I thought I did when I was a child. More than once. But then I got older and realized most of it was my imagination. It’s very fertile. As I think yours is.”

Sybil stopped pacing. What did she say to that? “But when you lived here later?”

“You must understand, I’m only selling it now because it’s too much to upkeep and after that couple disappeared...”

When she drifted off, Sybil finished with, “Finding another renter hasn’t happened.”

“Right. But as soon as the place is immaculate, I’m sure I’ll be able to sell it.”

Sybil’s apprehension about the footsteps hadn’t eased. “But what about the muddy footsteps? That doesn’t seem like a ghost.”

Clarice chuckled. “You’ve heard of poltergeists.”

Sybil’s throat tightened. No. That isn’t it. Not poltergeists. “Of course. But you don’t think--”

“Perhaps not. Which is why I’m going to send you someone who can help. I’ll call him right now and ask if he can assess the threat.”

Thrown off again, Sybil said, “Threat? What is he? A ghost hunter?”

“No, no. I’m not sure he believes in that sort of thing. His name is Douglas MacKenzie. He used to be a Marine and, after a stint doing that, he became a cop. But he left the force because of an injury. He said he’s trying to figure out what to do with the rest of his life, but in the meantime he’s become an expert on home security systems. I’ll hire him to put in a system to keep you ladies safe while you’re there. Plus, the security system will be a nice enticement for someone to buy the house when it goes on the market.”

Sybil’s head spun a little with all the new information. “All right.”

“I’ll give him your number. Now I really must go. I’ll chat with you again soon, darling. Have a nice evening.”

After they hung up, Sybil stood in the middle of the bedroom and realized she’d forgotten to ask about the possibility of secret passages in the house. She sent a text to Clarice and an answer came back almost immediately that Clarice wasn’t aware of any.

Wonderful. It was time to go back to work, and when Sybil opened the door and looked at the runner in the hallway, the footprints hadn’t dematerialized. Unfortunately.