We followed Brownie into a beautifully updated kitchen. White quartz countertops accented ebony cabinets. A breakfast nook had been cut into bay windows, and a grand island finished off with a cooktop sat squarely in the center of the room.
I almost drooled on my jacket.
Brownie rummaged through the cabinets until she found cookies. She placed that and a glass of milk in front of Alice. Ruth covered her eyes and shook her head.
“Tell me when everything started.” I settled myself into the cushioned breakfast nook.
“Not long after we moved in,” Brownie explained.
“We started the renovation,” Wallace said tersely. “That’s when it began.”
“Right,” Brownie quickly agreed. “We started renovating. At first it was small things.”
“I would misplace my keys,” Wallace said. “Which was preposterous because I always set my keys in the same place every night when I come home. I would put them down”—Wallace demonstrated dropping his keys—“and the next morning they would be moved.”
“He would accuse me of moving them,” Brownie said. “We’ve been married ten years. I wasn’t that dumb.” She picked a chocolate cookie from the platter and nibbled on it. “But for weeks he thought I changed their spot.”
“What did I know?” Wallace said. “They were supposed to be in one place, and then they weren’t.”
“Okay.” I needed to steer the conversation back to the important stuff. “So the keys were the start.”
“Then other things,” Brownie said quietly.
“Like what?”
“I was cooking dinner and getting plates from the cupboard. I pulled a few plates out and shut the cupboard. When I turned around, all the cupboard doors were open.”
“All of them?” Ruth said.
Brownie nodded. “Every one. For a while Wallace thought I’d lost my mind.”
He rubbed his forehead. “It had occurred to me. But really no, it was when I started seeing the woman that things changed.”
My eyes widened. Now I was interested. “The woman?”
He nodded. “You can see her sometimes walking through walls. Or she’s sitting in a chair. She’s never bothered us until recently.”
“The knocking,” Brownie said. “That’s another thing.”
Rap, rap, rap.
I glanced up. The ceilings were at least fifteen feet.
“Sounds like someone’s hammering on the ceiling,” Ruth said.
“That’s what we thought.” Brownie pulled her robe closed at the top. “We thought someone was in another part of the house knocking.”
“But we quickly realized that wasn’t the case.” Wallace rapped his knuckles on the table. “The rapping would come from one room—a room we would all be in.”
“We have a daughter.” Tears filled Brownie’s eyes. Wallace squeezed her arm.
“Did something happen to her?” Ruth said.
“No,” Brownie said quickly. “At least not yet. But we’re afraid for her. That’s why we called.”
“The spirit,” Wallace added, “or whatever it is has become more…aggressive lately.”
“How so?” That didn’t sound good. Aggressive spirits? Never something that made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
