62

Sierra’s POV

Pretending is hard. Pretending you are all alone when you know someone is hiding in your walls is even harder.

Louis was in the secret room. I knew exactly where it was. Behind a fake wall in the basement, near the boiler. It was a small room with a cot and screens showing every camera in the house. He was living in there. He couldn’t come out. Not even for a second.

I had to do everything by myself. Make breakfast, take Katie to school, smile at the other moms. I had to look tired and sad. I practiced my "stressed-out mom" face in the mirror.

Katie knew something was wrong.

"Why is Daddy gone so long?" she asked at dinner. We were eating spaghetti. I made too much because I forgot Louis wasn't there.

"He has very important work, baby," I said.

"You said that yesterday." She twirled her noodles. "I miss him."

"I miss him too," I said. And it was true. Even though he was just downstairs, I missed him. I missed eating with him. I missed the way he made Katie laugh. This plan was stupid.

The house at night was the worst. It was so quiet. Every little noise made me jump. The creak of the floor. The hum of the fridge. I kept thinking about the secret door opening. Not by Louis. By someone else.

Three days after Louis "left," I got another text. From a different number.

**Lonely yet?**

My whole body went cold. I was in the living room, trying to read. I showed my phone to the security camera in the corner. I knew Louis was watching.

A second later, my phone buzzed in my hand. A text from Louis, from his secret phone. **Don't answer. Stay calm. We're tracing it.**

I put the phone down. I felt like bugs were crawling on my skin. He was watching. He knew I was alone. Did he know it was a trick?

I tried to watch TV. I couldn't even tell you what was on.

Later, when Katie was asleep, I did the thing we planned. I went down to the basement to do laundry. It was part of the act. Making me look vulnerable. Alone in the big, echo-y basement at night.

The basement was scary. The light was dim. The washer hummed like a monster. I put in Katie's little socks and shirts. I felt stupid. And exposed.

I spoke out loud, to no one. "I can't do this by myself," I whispered. I made my voice sound shaky. "I hate this." I was talking for the ghost. Hoping he was listening.

Then I saw it. On the floor, near the big freezer. A small, white piece of paper, folded up.

My breath caught. That wasn't there before. I know it wasn't.

I didn't touch it. I ran upstairs, my heart pounding. I went to my bedroom and texted Louis. **Paper in basement. By freezer. I didn't touch.**

His reply came fast. **Stay in your room. Lock the door.**

I locked the door. I sat on the bed and hugged my knees. I felt like a little kid.

About ten minutes later, there was a soft knock on my door. A special knock. Two fast, one slow. It was our code.

I opened it. Louis stood there. He looked tired. He had gloves on.

"What did it say?" I whispered, pulling him inside.

He held up the paper in a plastic bag. It was a crayon drawing. A child's drawing.

It was a house. Our house. And in the window, three stick figures. A mommy, a daddy, and a little girl. But the daddy stick figure had a big red X over him.

At the bottom, in messy, grown-up writing, it said: **He's never coming back.**

"He was in the house," I said. My voice was so quiet. "While we were upstairs. He was in the basement."

Louis nodded. His face was like stone. "The cameras on the basement windows showed nothing. The door was locked. He didn't break in."

"Then how?"

"There's another way in. A way we don't know about." He crumpled the plastic bag in his fist. "A secret way. In my own house."

That was the scariest thing he could have said. Our safe place had a secret door. And the ghost knew where it was.

"This is a game to him," Louis said. He sounded furious. "He's not trying to hurt us yet. He's showing us how smart he is. How he can get in anytime."

"What do we do?" I asked. I was running out of brave.

"We move the bait," Louis said. "You and Katie can't stay here. It's not safe."

"Where do we go? A hotel? He'll find us."

"Not a hotel." Louis looked at me. "My mother's."

I almost laughed. It wasn't a happy laugh. "Your mother hates me. She thinks I'm weak."

"Exactly. She lives in a fortress with even more security than this. And no one would expect you to go there. Especially since the world thinks we're fighting." He put his hands on my shoulders. "It's the last place he'd look. You'll be safe for a few days. It will give me time to find this secret entrance. To sweep this whole house like I should have done in the beginning."

I didn't want to go to Vivienne's cold, perfect house. I didn't want to see her judging eyes. But I looked at the crayon drawing of our family with Louis crossed out. I thought about a man hiding in my basement.

"Okay," I said. "We'll go."

"Pack a small bag. Just for you and Katie. Make it look like you're running away. I'll have Martin drive you. I'll stay here and hunt."

The next morning, I called Vivienne. I made my voice sound desperate and polite at the same time.

"Vivienne? It's Sierra. I'm... I'm sorry to ask. But with Louis away, and everything that's happened... would it be possible for Katie and I to come stay with you for a day or two? I just don't feel safe here."

The silence on the other end was long. I could feel her surprise.

"Of course, Sierra," she said finally. Her voice was cool, but not mean. "Family is family. Come anytime."

So we left. Katie was confused but excited to see Grandma's big house. I packed our bags, trying to look like a woman on the edge.

Martin drove us. As we pulled away, I looked back at our house. It looked so pretty and normal. I wondered which window Louis was watching from.

Vivienne's house was huge and old and sat on a cliff like a king. It was beautiful and cold. She met us at the door. She didn't hug me. She patted Katie's head.

"Come in," she said. "Your rooms are ready."

The room I was given had a big canopy bed and a view of the ocean. It was nicer than any hotel. But it didn't feel like home. It felt like a museum.

That night, after Katie was asleep in the room next door, Vivienne knocked on my door. She had two cups of tea.

"May I?" she asked.

I nodded. She came in and sat in a chair by the window.

We sat in silence for a minute, sipping tea.

"You're not telling me everything," she said. Not as an accusation. Just a fact.

"No," I admitted.

"Is my son in danger?"

I thought about Louis, alone in our house with a ghost. "Yes."

"Is he being a fool?"

I almost smiled. "Maybe a little."

She nodded. "He gets that from his father. The thinking he can handle everything alone." She looked at me. Her sharp eyes were softer. "But he's not alone this time, is he?"

I shook my head. "No. He's not."

"Good." She put her cup down. "Then let him do his job. You do yours. Keep that child safe. And let an old woman help for once." She stood up. "The security here is impenetrable. Sleep well, Sierra. No ghosts will get past my gates."

She left. I sat by the window, looking at the dark, crashing ocean. I was in a fortress. My daughter was safe.

But my husband was in our haunted house, waiting for a ghost to appear. And for the first time, I wasn't there to watch his back.