As we stepped out of the torrential rain and under the shelter of the porch, Chief Tyler looked us over—Stacey, then me, then Stacey again—but he didn't offer up any tidbits about how we looked wetter than a couple of fresh-caught catfish, or some other attempt at retro-television folksiness. He looked angry.

  “Oh, it's the 'detectives.'” Chief Tyler wagged his fingers in sarcastic air quotes and moved to block our path to the front door. “Mr. Brown tells me you're the reason their house is full of cameras and microphones. He says you've convinced him the place is haunted, and that, big surprise, he needs to pay y'all a bunch of money to deal with it. Is that about the, uh, long and short of it?”

  “They contacted us about these problems,” I said.

  “Ghost problems?” He rolled his eyes. “You can't come around here harassing my citizens with this garbage. We're a nice, quiet community.”

  “We've dealt with several cases like this before, unfortunately,” I said.

  “Uh-huh. Yet somehow you never mentioned any of that when I let you poke around the town archives. You told me you were representing real estate investors.”

  “That wasn't a lie. They are working to restore the house, as an investment—”

  “It wasn't exactly the whole truth, though, was it? Then you talked about some alleged kidnappings from a hundred years ago—”

  “Alleged? You have files about them.”

  “Maybe so, maybe not, but letting y'all down there was the real mistake. I'm doing what I should have done in the first place and having a junk removal company take everything out of that basement. Polish up the woodwork, fresh paint, boom—new private office for the town chief. There's even a room for a couch for my bros when they visit.”

  “You can't just throw out the town's history!” I said.

  “Whatever. Here's what I think. You two keep going on about these missing kids. Then the girl disappears, right after y'all leave town. Like, right after. Pretty big coincidence.”

  “Are you accusing us of kidnapping Andra?” I asked.

  “Then later you'll rescue her and be the big heroes who charge a big fee.”

  “We're not con artists!” I snapped.

  “Like I'm going to believe you.” He called over to his deputy, a thick guy with a mustache and a slow gait. “Go check that blue van.”

  “Excuse me?” I said.

  “If you're going to drive around in a big windowless van, don't be surprised when people ask you questions after a kid goes missing.” Chief Tyler smirked as he watched his deputy open each door of our van and check inside for kidnapping victims.

  While the chief watched that, I dodged around him and rang the doorbell.

  “Hey!” Tyler barked after me, but it was too late. Dave was already opening the door, Jason clinging close to his side, dressed in pajamas, shivering despite the warm weather.

  “Oh, good, you're here,” Dave said. He was dripping wet, like he'd been out in the rain already and hadn't bothered with an umbrella or jacket.

  “I wouldn't put too much trust in these two ladies,” Chief Tyler said to Dave. Behind him, the other police car reached the end of the neighborhood and drove away, turning off its blue flashers.

  “Where's he going?” Dave asked.

  “Traffic light's out downtown,” Tyler said. “Someone has to direct traffic until power is restored.”

  “There's literally nobody out driving around downtown,” Stacey told him. “It was completely deserted.”

  “Ma'am, please calm down and let me do my job here,” Tyler said to Stacey, in something close to a flat, official-sounding tone that wasn't very Andy Griffith at all.

  “You need to check the swamp,” I said.

  “I already explained that,” Dave said. “But he didn't send anyone.”

  “Yeah, we have a lot happening with this storm,” Tyler said. “Not a lot of resources to deploy, either. This town is not prepared for an emergency.”

  I held back my impulse to make a snarky comment about how the police chief probably had some responsibility for emergency preparedness. The chief was already ready to throw us out of Mayberry, as soon as his answer to Barney Fife was done bumbling his way through our van.

  “Is Lonnie still at the hospital?” I asked Dave.

  Dave nodded. “Nicole's with him. The hospital's moving at a typical glacial hospital pace. I told her not to drive through this storm even when he gets released, just wait for the weather to calm down.” He shook his head. “I haven't told Nicole about Andra, because she needs to stay there with Lonnie. She can't help from there, so she'll just worry. I'll deal with this myself. But I do need help.” He looked among the three of us, two paranormal investigators and a young police chief who would probably rather be playing Frisbee golf. “Please.”

  “We'll keep looking.” Tyler pointed at Stacey and me. “But you two need to stay out of my way. They're trouble, Mr. Brown.”

  “Even if they are, we need all the eyes and ears we can get,” Dave said.

  “We can stay inside the house for now, Chief,” I said, in a sinking voice that implied I was surrendering to him. “If that keeps us out of your way.”

  “Well, good.” Tyler sounded uncertain. He was going along with what I wanted, but I was trying to give him the exact opposite impression, that he was bossing me around.

  “You should also follow up on the swamp,” I advised again.

  “Right, because we're going to hang out in the swamp during a storm looking for a kid who disappeared miles away, and who nobody saw going into the swamp,” Tyler said. “That's definitely happening. Let me invite the whole county in on that.”

  “Maybe you should,” I said.

  “You stay here like I told you.” Tyler pulled up his yellow hood and walked out to join his deputy, who'd finally stopped rummaging through our van.

  Stacey and I followed Dave and Jason into the cabinet-lined foyer dominated by the wraparound staircase.

  “When was the last time you saw Andra?” I asked.

  “In her older sister's room, going to bed after her nightly cabinet check. Penny was still up reading, but now she says she fell asleep and didn't see where Andra went. I've searched the whole house. Andra's not here.”

  “The house may have more hidden spaces than what we've found,” I said. “Jason, do you have any ideas where she could be?”

  “No…” He looked at his dad. “Unless…”

  “Is there something you haven't told me, Jason?” Dave asked.

  The quiet ten-year-old boy looked like he might cry. “Maybe she went with Sunny and Rainy.”

  “Her imaginary friends?” Dave asked.

  “Maybe they're not that imaginary. They're too good at magic tricks,” Jason said.

  “Where would they take her?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I don't know. In the olden days, didn't they go down to the basement during a storm? Maybe there.”

  “Why didn't you say anything about this before, Jason?” Dave asked.

  The boy covered his face with his hands. “I don't know. I'm just guessing!”

  “It's okay,” I said. “We'll start looking where Andra was last seen, though. Is Penny still up there?”

  “Of course,” Dave said. “She's sticking with the disgruntled teen act instead of helping us look for her sister. I want to go search outside again, but I don't want to leave the kids here alone. Or bring them out into a lightning storm, obviously.”

  “Is that boy still here?” I asked. “What was his name? Caleb?”

  “I sent him away after I saw your text. He seemed a little…rough for her. And she didn't ask permission before bringing him up to her room, which is not permission I would have granted. So Caleb isn't allowed in our house for the time being. And Penny is grounded with no phone. Can the two of you watch Jason while I go look for Andra again?”

  “Of course!” Stacey put an arm around Jason. “I like hanging out with talented artists.”

  “I think the chief will welcome your presence more than ours,” I said. “We'll see what we can find inside the house.”

  “Are you okay with that, pal?” Dave asked Jason. “So I can search for your sister?”

  “Okay.” Jason leaned into Stacey's hug, putting his arms around her.

  “Good. I'll be as quick as I can.”

  Dave hurried outside, and the three of us went upstairs to check out Penny's room, the one from which Andra had disappeared.

  I didn't want to say it aloud, not where Jason could hear, but Andra's quiet, unexplained disappearance from her bed late at night obviously mirrored the original Cabinet Jack murders decades ago. None of those children had ever been found, not until Jacob identified their burial place in the swamp the previous night. None had ever survived after being taken.

  Stacey and I looked at each other over Jason's head as we hurried across the landing, and I could tell she felt as afraid as I did.

  We continued to the hall of doors upstairs.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  I knocked on Penny's door, and her greeting was an angry “What?”

  “Hey, Penny,” I said. “It's Ellie and Stacey. We just want to talk for a second.”

  “Why are you even here? I'm so tired of you two creeping around spying on everyone. Why don't you just leave?”

  “Aren't you worried about your sister?” I asked the closed door.

  “She's probably hiding in her stupid magic show room. Why don't you go down there instead?”

  “Penny's…p-probably right,” Jason said beside us, his voice trembling just above a whisper, like he was scared to speak at all. Stacey put an arm around his shoulders again, and this relaxed him a little. He spoke with slightly more confidence. “I think you should look downstairs, too. And maybe my basement idea.”

  “I definitely appreciate your input, Jason, but we need to start where Andra was last seen.” I repeated that last part louder, through the door, so Penny could hear me.

  “She's not in here!” Penny shouted back.

  “Can we just have a quick peek, and then we'll leave you alone?” I asked. “Or do we need to go get your dad?”

  “Ugh.” A long pause followed, and then, “Fine. But then leave me alone. Give me a minute.”

  It seemed to take more than a minute for her to get around to unlocking and opening the door. Penny looked more tired and drained than ever, her dark hair carelessly rumpled, her eyes dull.

  She stepped back and swept her arm around her room, indicating the cluttered shelves and cabinets, the laundry pile on her bed. Andra's smaller bed, full of stuffed animals, was crammed into one corner. The room barely fit both beds and Penny's furniture. “As you can see,” Penny said, “You can hardly even breathe in here. If there was another person with me, I'd know it.”

  “Thanks for letting us in.” I crossed to Andra's bed and searched under it. I couldn't see much until I turned on my flashlight. With the power out, Penny was lighting her room with scented candles, a clashing mixture of spicy apple and lavender.

  Beneath Andra's bed lay some of Penny's dirty laundry, nothing more. I nudged the laundry aside and rapped on the hardwood floor, searching for any sign of a trap door.

  “What are you, expecting floor elves to come out?” Penny asked, her arms crossed. She again wore a thick, hooded sweatshirt over a pair of shorts, as if the upper and lower halves of her body existed in completely different climates.

  “Are you absolutely sure you didn't see or hear anything strange?” I pulled the missing girl's bed out from the wall and checked the wainscoting behind it.

  “Other than you two, right now?” She scowled when Stacey opened her closet and started rapping on the walls, searching for hollow spots.

  “Even if you think you dreamed it,” I said. “Even if you think it's not important. Anything at all?”

  “Nothing.” Penny fell silent as I knelt in front of her built-in bookshelves and opened a pair of cabinet doors. They revealed a single space large enough to crawl through on hands and knees. The inside held just a few large objects, including purple pom-poms and an acoustic megaphone featuring a stern purple Viking.

  A cool, damp draft was palpable from within the cabinet.

  I moved aside the spirit squad gear and pushed against the cabinet's back wall. It was already ajar and gave no resistance as I swung it open to reveal a dark space beyond.

  “Ugh.” Penny covered her face and lay down on her bed. “Why couldn't you have just gone downstairs?”

  Jason sat down slowly in one corner, not looking at anyone.

  “What's happening?” I looked between them. “What aren't you telling us? Penny? Jason?” I stared at the boy, who I expected to be less resistant than his older sister. “Jason?”

  “Don't tell them anything,” Penny said to her younger brother. “They won't understand.”

  “What won't we understand?” I asked, but they both refused to look at me.

  I was torn between trying to pry information out of the kids and immediately crawling through the newly discovered hidden door in search of their lost sister. I couldn't decide which should take priority. Good thing I wasn't alone.

  “Stacey, you stay here and figure out what they're talking about,” I said. “I'll be right back.”

  I pulled the pom-poms and megaphone out of the cabinet and crawled into it on my belly, slithering along the floor, not exactly a good stance for defending against any attackers waiting ahead.

  The rain on the rooftop echoed louder in the hidden passage between the walls. I could stand up in it, thankfully, and I quickly pointed my light in each direction, checking for dead things creeping up toward me across the bare studs and joists.

  Nothing indicated which way Andra might have gone.

  Something rustled ahead, though.

  I followed, pointing my light along the irregular passage. It narrowed and lowered until I had to drop and crawl again.

  He came at me from around a corner ahead, thudding toward me at almost inhuman speed, his form filling up the whole crawlspace.

  “Stop!” I shined my light at him, and he recoiled, covering his eyes. He was shivering and panting. He was dressed as I'd seen him before—in soccer shorts, a thin gold-chain necklace, and a nose ring large enough to see from down the street. “Caleb?”

  “What?” He looked back like someone was after him. “Get out of the way!”

  “What are you…” I began to ask, but then it clicked. “Penny had you up in her room. She sent you to hide in here. She must have known about her bookshelf—”

  “Let me out!” Caleb shoved his way forward, crushing me against the side wall as he squeezed past. No chivalry in that guy. He continued on in the direction I'd just left.

  I moved forward, going to see what he was running from, and less hopeful of finding Andra now that I knew it was him, not Andra, who'd left the hidden panel open in Penny's bookcase.

  Beyond the corner, I could stand again, though I had to keep my head bowed, like I was praying. The passageway here was wide, with narrow branches off to either side. I couldn't imagine how it might fit, hidden, between the walls of the second floor, even in this labyrinthine house.

  At the far end, a door stood open directly to the night outside, where the rain pounded the earth. Mud flowed in and across the wooden floor of the passageway, slowly flooding it.

  This seemed surreal at first, then I realized it was impossible. I was on the second story of the house, not the first.

  I approached the open door, passing crooked hallways of mismatched scrap wood leading to doors that were small and square, or strangely low or high, never a proper size or shape.

  Lightning flashed outside, revealing the heap of dead trunks that marked Gabriel's grave, where he'd been buried alive in Jack's place.

  The open door was the one carved long ago into the tree trunk, thick with moss and fungus on the outside, slimy with rotten black wood on the inside.

  If I understood correctly, this doorway was unnatural, supernatural, and had enabled Jack to carry his victims directly from their homes to the swamp, slipping them out of their rooms at night and skipping all the miles of potential witnesses in between. They gave me the power of doors and doorways, of coming and going.

  Muddy footprints led from the swamp door along the main passage where I walked, vanishing about where I stood, several paces in, where most of the mud had worn off.

  I heard a wooden creak behind me and spun toward it, pointing my flashlight down one of the crooked side corridors. Its walls were mad jigsaw-like collections of broken balusters and spandrels that had been ornate in their day, like those adorning the front porches of the neighborhood, chaotically heaped together into high barriers.

  I walked down the hall, following it around to a low open doorway.

  Looking through, I saw that it connected to a once impressive foyer with a high ceiling and cobwebbed chandelier. I seemed to be peering out through a cupboard under some other house's front stairs.

  The house had obviously been abandoned for some time. On the wall, someone had spraypainted a square door with a sideways stick figure jutting out of it. The stick figure wore a cap and held a sharp tool. Nearby was painted close your cabinets tight or jack comes out tonight.

  Heavy footsteps descended the stairs above me, above the cupboard. Soon he came around the spiral newel at the base of the stairs.

  He looked gaunt and dusty, almost mummified. He wore his wide grin like an old habit, expressing no feeling at all, like the skin and muscles of his face had dried and contracted in that position over time, rigor mortis rather than any joy or glee.

  When he saw me, he approached, drawing a chisel with a sharp beveled edge from his leather apron. The apron was covered with dark stains, maybe blood from his victims. At least he didn't have fresh blood on him, and he appeared unsatisfied.

  “Where is she?” He shuffled toward me, slowly turning the blade in his hand.

  “Who?” I asked.

  “The little one.” His pale eyes didn't blink as he approached. “My new bunny.”

 

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