insides clenching, Sam watched his new boss head up the steps and took a deep breath before doing the same. Her words and the ominous note in her voice might have given another man pause, making him wonder exactly what it was she was about to reveal that might make him second-guess working for her. Not him. He already knew everything he suspected she was about to tell him. Despite her words, he already knew he wanted the job.
No, it was the very act of setting foot in this house again that made him hesitate. This was all happening too fast, before he was ready. He didn’t normally act so quickly and without thinking things through first, having long ago learned the cost of impulsive choices. But it felt like he’d jumped on board a moving train and was being carried away much faster than he’d anticipated or was comfortable with. He’d made the decision to come here on the spur of the moment, getting into the truck and just driving. Then he’d seen that flyer, then he’d come here, then he’d been hired, and now he was about to walk into a house he’d never wanted to see again. It was too fast. He’d barely had time to absorb what was happening.
“You coming?”
He jerked his head to see the woman standing just inside the doorway, a curious and none-too-reassuring expression on her face. The corners of her mouth were turned down as she stared at him. He had the feeling he was blowing this. She looked distinctly wary.
She. That’s how fast this was happening. He’d been hired by this woman and he didn’t even know her name.
“Sure,” he said. “I was just wondering what the polite way was to ask for your name.”
She blinked at him, her caution fading into embarrassment. “Oh,” she said, “I guess that would be a good place to start, wouldn’t it?”
“I could just go with ‘Hey, you.’”
A faint smile flickered across her lips. “That won’t be necessary. It’s Maggie. Maggie Harper.”
It was a nice smile—and a fleeting one. Within seconds, it had faded, her mouth forming a thin line.
For the first time, he looked at her, really looked at her. She was an attractive woman, probably in her early to mid-thirties. Her dark blond hair was pulled up in a no-nonsense knot at the back of her head, a few loose wisps hanging around her face. Like him, she was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, the clothes fairly worn, the wardrobe of somebody ready to work. Her body had a kind of ropy leanness, the kind earned from activity and labor, and he knew without question that this was a woman who knew how to work and get a job done.
He only hoped she didn’t get in the way of the job he had to do.
“Good to meet you, Maggie.”
She nodded tightly and turned her back to him, stepping inside. Drawing in one last breath, Sam forced his legs to climb the steps and follow her into the house.
The first thing that struck him was the stillness. Other than the motion and sounds caused by Maggie herself, nothing moved, and the silence was absolute. The entryway opened into a room on either side, both of them almost completely unfurnished. There was a sleeping bag rolled up in the room on the right. Otherwise it was empty. He could see a basic attempt had been made to clean up a little, but it was very much a house where work was in progress. Sunlight poured through the windows, revealing a multitude of dust particles hanging in the air.
In front of him was a steep staircase leading up to the second level. And beside it, a hallway leading back to where the kitchen was. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t see that room from where he stood. He knew it was there, as a sudden tension gripped him, holding him in place just inside the doorway, unable to do anything but stare in that direction.
His heart began to pound, slamming against his chest wall like it was demanding to get out. The noise rattled through him, filling his ears with the heavy beat. Except he thought he heard something else over it, something distant emerging from the echoing silence of the house to fill his head.
Screaming. Someone was screaming.
Frantic cries. Desperate pleading. Sounds of raw, gut-wrenching agony.
It wasn’t just anyone, either.
It was a little kid.
A child was screaming. Crying. Pleading.
Endlessly screaming.
“Are you okay?”
The sound of her voice jolted him into awareness. He glanced over at where Maggie stood in the room to the right. She was frowning again, that same appraising look in her eye.
He didn’t let his expression shift in the slightest, even as he swallowed hard and tried to slowly pull in a breath. “Fine,” he said shortly. “I guess I didn’t figure just how much work this place would need.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Not for me. I could use the work. It just seems like most people would save themselves the trouble and tear it down to build something new.”
Her face hardened. “Yeah, well, people tend to throw things away too easily.”
There was an angry note in her voice, something almost like bitterness. “I take it you like old houses.”
“I love them.”
“Have you restored one before?”
“More than one. I used to own a restoration business back in California. With my husband,” she added after a noticeable pause.
A husband. She wasn’t wearing a ring, not that that necessarily meant anything. Someone who worked with her hands as much as this woman had to probably wouldn’t bother with one. But something about the way she said it made it clear she no longer had a husband, and the subject wasn’t a happy one.
There was a story there. And it was none of his business. He had too many secrets of his own to go poking around in anybody else’s. It had nothing to do with why he was here, and that was all that mattered.
“This is a long way from California,” he noted, just to fill the silence.
“My grandfather owned this house,” she said. “He died last year and left it to me. I decided to come back and fix it up.”
“I guess he had a hard time keeping up with the place.”
“The last few years he didn’t get around as well as he used to,” she said with a trace of regret. “And he actually didn’t live here, but the place meant a lot to him. He designed it himself and had it built for him and my grandmother. It was their dream home. They’d lived here only a few years when she was injured in a car accident and had to use a wheelchair the rest of her life. This house was no longer suitable for their needs, with all of its stairs, both inside and out. They moved into another house, but my grandfather couldn’t bring himself to sell this one. He rented it out for a while.”
An image emerged from the recesses of his mind, the face of a man. His first thought was that it was an old man. No, he’d thought the man was old when he’d seen him, but he’d probably only been in his fifties. Ancient to a child, but only a decade or two older than Sam was now.
Maggie sighed. “I might as well tell you
