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Mr. Lay’s grip on the doorknob tightened. “The front door was not locked when we arrived,” he muttered. “She was here. But now…” He didn’t finish the sentence.

Just then, the wind howled outside, rattling the windows. The lights flickered once. Twice.

And then, from the hallway—a soft creak.

All three of them turned toward the sound, their breath caught in their throats. The door to Amelia’s study room, which had been shut, was now slightly ajar. A shadow stretched across the floor, motionless.

Mrs. Lay clutched David’s arm. “Did you… did you see that?”

No one moved.

Then, the shadow shifted.

A cold chill swept through the room, freezing them all in place. The shadow, once still, twitched, as if it had a life of its own. A faint creak echoed from the other side of the door, like something—or someone—was moving inside.

David’s heart pounded in his chest. “Should we check it out?” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

Mr. Lay didn’t respond at first. He just stood there, eyes locked on the ajar door, his hand still gripped tightly around the doorknob. His face was tense, a mask of uncertainty and fear.

The wind outside picked up again, howling through the trees, but inside the house, there was an unsettling silence. Mrs. Lay’s grip tightened on Mr Lay’s arm, her knuckles white. “What if it’s Amelia?” she said, her voice trembling.

David shook his head, trying to shake off the dread settling over him. “It can’t be her. She’s not here.”

The shadow shifted again, the movement slow and deliberate, as if taunting them.

David took a deep breath, his face hardening. “We have to find out what’s going on.” Without another word, he moved toward the door, slowly, deliberately, his hand reaching for the handle.