Page 34 of Night Falls on Predicament Avenue
“I-I’m all right.” Norah tried to reassure Harper, who ignored her.
“Dad, seriously.”
Sebastian left the window and moved to crouch in front of Norah. She had the irrational thought that he should hop ontothe bed with them before the skeletal corpse dragged him beneath it to the depths of hell.
“It’ll be all right.” Sebastian’s hands settled on Norah’s knees. She felt the warmth, the strength of them. “You had a scare, but you’ll be fine.”
Held by Harper, comforted by Sebastian, Norah felt oxygen flowing more smoothly through her. Instead of cold, her skin grew hot as she grew more aware of Sebastian’s touch. She pulled away from Harper, which caused Sebastian to remove his hands from her knees.
“Tell me what you saw.” Sebastian stayed balanced in his crouch before her.
Harper stuffed her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie, her dark straight hair feathering on the sides of her pretty face. Her eyes were earnest, concerned.
Norah drew strength from them while at the same time feeling guilty for seeking support from a young pregnant woman who had more than enough stress in her life.
“Norah...” Sebastian urged.
Norah hefted a steadying breath. “I-I didn’t really see anything. It was...” The bird. She remembered the bird now. Taking courage that Sebastian hadn’t already been sucked under her bed, Norah put her bare feet on the floor and stood. She pointed to her dresser, to the gilded box atop it. Reaching for the box, she said, “This is a music box. It was playing.”
Norah tipped the box over, then righted it. Its lid was closed, the hinges keeping the box shut on a spring and gear timer. “But there’s no way it could have played on its own.” Norah brought it over to show Sebastian. “The bottom opens here, and you have to wind it with the key.” The key lay on a starched doily next to where the music box had been. “This latch has to be pushed to the right to initiate the bird.” Norah demonstrated by taking her thumb and moving a lever. At the motion, a small oval lid popped up and with it a bird with colorful feathers of Indigoblue and emerald green, with flecks of red in its tail. The bird’s wings fluttered, its chirping filling the room. “It will only play for a certain amount of time—” the lid snapped shut and silenced the bird—“before that happens.”
Norah held the box in her hands and looked expectantly at Sebastian.
He took it from her and studied it for a moment. “You said it was playin’ while you were in bed?”
Norah nodded. “There’s no way that music box could have played on its own. And it played twice.”
“Twice?” Harper adjusted her position on the bed, the mattress springs protesting beneath her.
“Yes. I was dreaming,” Norah explained, “and then I heard the bird. It stilled. Then it sang again. Someone had to have handled it. It’s the only way.” Her voice quavered. “I saw her.” She glanced at Sebastian, remembering their conversation over dinner and how she’d withheld this from him. The other times the woman had hovered over her bed, just like she had the night Mr. Miller had died of a heart attack.
“Who?” Sebastian’s frown was dark, protective.
“A woman.” Norah pointed at the door, avoiding looking at Sebastian. “My door was open, and she slipped through it and disappeared.”
Sebastian handed her the music box and hurried from the room. She could hear him marching down the hallway, his footsteps making the floorboards groan and creak. The house was old and tired and didn’t want to be disturbed at night any more than she did.
“You won’t find anyone,” Norah called after him.
Harper scrunched her brows together. “Why not?”
“Because she wasn’treal. She wasn’t alive.”
Harper drew back, eyeing Norah with suspicion. “You think it was a ghost?”
“No!” Norah bit back her exclamation. “I mean...” Her eyesrested on another item on her dresser. Frowning, she reached for the yellow plastic card next to her hairbrush.
“What is it?” Harper’s question mimicked Norah’s own.
It was the size of a credit card.Shepherd County Librarywas printed on it, along with an address and cutesy little logo.
“This isn’t mine,” Norah said. She flipped the card over. On the back was a worn white strip, the expiration date of June 2013 printed there. And then—
Norah’s watery cry of disbelief had Harper hopping off the bed and hurrying to her side to look down at the library card.
“Who’s Naomi?” Harper asked, flipping the card over. “Naomi Richman? Is she related to you?”
Still in shock, Norah stared at her dead sister’s library card, now in Harper’s hand. “She’s ... my sister.”
