TenWhen next Bridget’s eyes opened, night had returned, and the room once again lay shrouded in darkness. The just-audible plinking of a piano sounded far below, but something much closer had awakened her. The touch of slow treading on the stairs, something creeping up toward her.
She froze, watched weak gray light reach the landing just outside her room. The light continued to swell and waver. A candle, its small flame still several steps down but coming closer.
No! Her heart bounced in her chest. This wasn’t Tate, who climbed boldly. It wasn’t the heavier footfalls of a policeman or any man, not even one Tate would label a ghost. This was the quiet, breathing apparition from Bridget’s nightmares.
She thought to scream for Tate but feared doing so. What if Tate didn’t hear over the pia
