The Ghost In His House

Chapter 2:The Perfect Housekeeper

By the third morning, Ethan Cole's house smelled like fresh bread and he had no idea why he was smiling.

He stood in the kitchen doorway in yesterday's shirt and stared at the table. There was a plate of warm eggs, a cup of coffee, black and steaming. And beside it, a small folded note in round handwriting.

“You forgot to eat again. — M.”

"I didn't forget," he told the empty room.

"I just chose not to." But he sat down and ate every bite.

He hadn't known how quiet his house was until the sound of someone humming came through the wall. Soft, off-key. A little sad.

Every time he heard it, something in his chest loosened.

“You've had her here three days”, he told himself. “Stop it.”

But when Mia passed through the hall with a basket of laundry and gave him a small shy smile, he smiled back before he could stop himself.

Mia hummed because it kept her hands steady.

She had cleaned every room, polished every window and fixed the cracked lamp by the door. She had watered the dead plant, and to her surprise, it had a green shoot this morning.

She stood looking at it, and her eyes stung.

“Don't get attached. It's a plant, it's a house. It's a job.”

Then Ethan walked past with his jacket and stopped at the fountain. He crouched, touched the tiny leaf and looked up at her with a boyish grin.

"You brought it back to life."

"It was only thirsty."

"Nobody else noticed." He stood, brushed off his hands, and gave her a long, warm look.

"Thank you, Mia." Her throat tightened. She nodded, unable to speak.

Then he left for work and she watched his car disappear down the road. She counted to sixty, then she counted to sixty again.

The smile slid off her face.

“Seven days”, her handler had said.

“Get into the basement.” Two were already gone.

At 1:12 a.m., Mia opened the door of Ethan's study. It wasn't the basement, but it was a start. The steel door downstairs would need a code, a fingerprint, and a key. The answers might be in this room.

She slid in on socked feet and closed the door without a sound. Moonlight fell across the desk. She saw a leather chair, a shelf of files and one framed photo. A young Ethan and a gray-haired man with kind eyes, laughing on the steps of a courthouse.

“Daniel Hayes.” She looked away.

She started with the desk. Top drawer, nothing. Second drawer, pens and old receipts. Third drawer was locked but the pick opened it in eight seconds.

Inside lay a black notebook.

She opened it and her pulse jumped. A hand-drawn map of the mansion.

Small red circles, neat notes in Ethan's handwriting.

“Basement door: code changes every 30 days. Last set: my mother's birthday, reversed.”

“Mother's birthday.” She turned the page.

Nothing more. Just a name, underlined twice.

“Ghost.”

Mia stared at it. He had written it so many times the paper had gone thin.

“Six months”, she thought.

“He's been hunting me for six months, and he's never once seen my face.” She should have felt proud but she felt sick.

She reached to close the notebook. Her sleeve brushed the edge of the desk and something clicked under the floor.

Ethan sat up in bed with his heart racing.

His phone was buzzing on the nightstand. The screen glowed red.

“MOTION DETECTED — STUDY. SILENT ALARM.” He was out of bed and had his gun in his hand before he was fully awake.

“Someone's in my house.” He crept into the dark hall and moved toward the stairs. The house was silent. Too silent.

He gripped the gun tighter.

“Mia's room. Check on Mia first.” He turned toward the east hall, and his heart stopped.

Her door was open, the bed was empty.

"Mia?" he whispered. Nothing.

His stomach dropped. “No. No, no. Not her.” He ran.

In the study, Mia stood behind the door with her back pressed flat against the wall and her hand over her mouth.

“A pressure plate. A silent alarm. He designed this for the Ghost, and it caught me.”

She heard his footsteps pounding down the hall. There was no time to put back the notebook so she shoved it into the drawer, kicked it shut, and dropped to the floor.

The door burst open and Ethan came in with his gun raised, scanning the corners. His eyes were wild. He swept the room once, twice.

He didn't look behind the door.

"Clear," he breathed.

He ran a hand through his hair and then he heard a small sound in the hall.

A sniffle. He spun around.

Mia stood in the doorway in her plain white nightgown, hugging her arms, her face pale and wet.

She had slipped out while his back was turned. She had gone around the corner, counted to five and walked right back in.

"Ethan?" she whispered.

"I heard a noise. I was so scared." His whole body sagged with relief and he lowered the gun.

"Mia. Thank God." He crossed the room in two steps and grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Are you hurt? Did you see anyone?"

"No. I just, I heard something in the study. I came to check, and then the alarm went off, and I ran to hide in the pantry." She was shaking and he could feel it through her sleeves.

He didn't see her hands. He didn't see they were shaking because she was lying.

"It's okay. You're safe." He pulled her gently against his chest and she went stiff, then softened.

"I've got you. It was probably the wind. The window latch is old." She pressed her face into his shirt.

“He smells like soap and coffee and safe.” Her eyes burned.

“Stop it”, she screamed at herself. “He is not your friend. He is a job.” But his hand was on her hair, and she couldn't make herself pull away.

He made her hot chocolate and they sat at the kitchen table at two in the morning and he pushed a mug into her hands and sat across from her, rumpled and half asleep.

"I used to have nightmares," he said quietly. "After Daniel died. I couldn't sleep alone in the house."

"Who's Daniel?"

"Someone I loved." He looked into his cup. "You don't have to be brave every minute, Mia. Not here." She stared at him.

“Not here.” No one had ever said that to her. Not in eleven years. She could hardly breathe.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Drink your chocolate." She did.

It was too sweet. It was the best thing she had ever tasted.

They didn't talk much after that but when she finally went back to bed, Ethan stood in the hall and watched her go. Then he turned and looked at the study door, and frowned.

“The notebook is on the wrong side of the drawer.” He shook his head.

“You're tired.” He went back to bed.

Mia lay in the dark with her eyes open.

She had not found the code but she had not found the key. She had found a mother's birthday, and no way to know it.

She turned over and something crinkled under her pillow. She sat up.

A small white envelope lay there. She had not put it there.

Her hands went cold and she opened it, and a single photograph slid into her palm.

A grainy black-and-white picture of the study. A girl in a white nightgown creeping across the floor, a silver pick in her hand, her face perfectly clear. It had been taken from inside the room.

On the back, in handwriting she did not recognize, three words were printed in red ink.

“I SEE YOU.”