I woke Dad and made him listen. The tapping stopped the second he sat up, like it was shy of grown-ups. "Old pipes," he yawned. But in the morning we found wet footprints leading up from the cellar door, across the kitchen, and stopping at the foot of Theo's bed. Theo was still asleep, smiling. From then on the footprints came every night, and each morning they stopped a little closer to where I slept.