Chapter 9 - Footsteps in the HallwayThe digital clock on the desk changed.
2:58 a.m.
Veronica stood up slowly from the leather chair, her hand instinctively dropping to the heavy silver pocket knife she now kept tucked inside her cardigan pocket.
The house was dead silent. No stormwater tonight. No wind off the Atlantic. Just the heavy, oppressive stillness of a mansion built on secrets, blood, and lies.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Footsteps.
Slow, measured, bare feet moving along the polished wooden floorboards of the second-floor corridor outside the library.
Not heavy enough to be Rory.
Not small enough to be Lily or Rose.
Veronica crept toward the half-open library door, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She gripped the edge of the mahogany doorframe and peered out into the dim hallway.
The hallway light was off, illuminated only by the pale moonlight filtering through the tall arched windows at the end of the wing.
Standing in the center of the corridor, facing away from her toward the nursery doors, was a tall, slender figure wearing a white silk nightshirt.
A figure holding a brand-new, cream-colored teddy bear with a stitched blue ribbon around its neck.
"Who’s there?" Veronica demanded, stepping out into the hallway, her voice cutting sharply through the dark.
The figure stopped.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the person turned around.
It wasn't Susan. Susan was behind bars.
It was a woman with long, dark hair falling over her shoulders, wearing a pale silk nightgown identical to the one worn by Rory’s late wife in the portraits hanging downstairs.
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Except the woman in front of her wasn't dead.
Her eyes were wide, cold, and utterly vacant, staring straight through Veronica with a chilling, dead-eyed smile.
