I was just downstairs getting a drink of water.
No, I need to catch her in the act. I release the doorknob, straighten and head for the attic. The door is shut, but this one opens easily. I wince as the hinges creak. Then I stand in the opening and squint up into darkness.
All is still and silent above.
Is it possible she got back in her room after I spotted that light? No. It’d taken me ten seconds tops to process the meaning of that flicker and get out of bed. Within twenty seconds, I’d been in the hall, and there’s no way she silently fled the attic, got into her room and jammed the door shut before I stepped from my room.
I move my bare foot onto the first step and ease forward. The stairs creak. I know that from when Maeve was alive and I’d needed a place to hide my secrets. The attic had been the one place I could be sure she wouldn’t go snooping—the stairs were too narrow for her to navigate.
I know which treads will creak, and I step over them. As I ascend, the attic remains still and silent. When I reach the top, I move even slower, knowing the top of my head will show before I can see. Once my gaze is at floor level, I stop and tighten my grip on the gun.
I wait for Daisy to see me. She’ll spot me, give a startled gasp and then make some excuse.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the leak.Insert apologetic laugh. I wanted to make sure the repair was holding. I hope I didn’t disturb you.
I wait for that gasp. Nothing comes. I climb another step and look around.
Hello? Is anyone up here?
I open my mouth, but I can’t get the ridiculous dialogue out. Instead, I grip the gun tighter and keep rising until I’m fully in the attic.
No one’s here.
Strike that—no one’s here that I can see.
That’s how Daisy is going to play this. She heard me in the hall and went into hiding. After all, it’s not as if I can check her room and realize she’s gone. She just needs to wait me out. Plenty of places to do it up here, between the boxes and the old furniture. That’s another reason I picked this spot for my box of secrets—no one’s ever going to find it in this mess.
I lower my gun. If she steps out, I don’t want her to see the weapon. That would be very inconvenient.
After two steps, I pause and crouch with my cell phone flashlight aimed at the floor. My thought is that I’ll look for footprints, which I quickly realize is ridiculous—there are prints everywhere from Daisy and Tom fixing the leak, and then from me inspecting it before and after.
I straighten and continue on, swinging my light behind every box, listening for the telltale scuffle of Daisy trying to find a better hiding spot. All I hear is the soft thump of bare feet on the floorboards.
My light catches something that makes me stop. A box has been moved. It’s not near where I hide my things, but I still notice it’s moved because I considered hiding my stuff here, amid this jumble of filthy, moldering boxes. Someone has moved a box, most evident by the fact that the damp cardboard tore with the effort.
This spot, at the far end of the attic, is also right over my bedroom. Here the attic floorboards end, leaving exposed rafters and beams.
If that crack in my bedroom ceiling goes all the way through, as I presume it does, then moving a box would explain that flicker of light. Daisy was up here, with a flashlight on, shifted a box, and I caught the light below.
I shine my own light as I look for the crack. I spot the tail end of it. The other end is beneath a box, exactly as I figured. It’s not the box that was broken, but a solid wooden crate with another one atop it.
I move the top crate and then the bottom one. I want to confirm—
I stop. Blink. Shine my flashlight down.
There’s something showing between the floorboards. Something fastened to them, right over that crack.
A box.
It isn’t big. Maybe the size of a pack of cigarettes. As I watch, it blinks. The single flicker of a dim red light.
There’s a moment where my brain screams, Bomb! I’ll blame that on stress and lack of sleep. It’s an electronic device of some sort, and that red light seems to indicate an error. I watch it for at least three minutes before it flashes again, even dimmer this time. Then I bend and shine my light on the device and—
Holy shit.
No.
Tell me that is not what it seems to be.