The agent didn't tell them the price until the drive home, and she said it like an apology. Sixty-one thousand. Eleven rooms, a wraparound porch. Mara signed before Daniel finished reading. That first night they slept on a mattress in the parlor. Above them, a floorboard creaked. Then again, slow and even, like someone pacing the room overhead. They were alone in the house.

Mara pulled the blanket over her head. "Old houses do that," she whispered. "Go to sleep." Daniel tried. But the pacing matched his own heartbeat, and when he held his breath, it slowed down too. Like whatever it was could feel him listening.