Page 112 of Home Before Dark

The only witness was her father, who couldn’t provide a good reason why his daughter, who had gone up and down those steps hundreds of times, would fall.

Adding in Indigo Garson and Katie Carver, seven people had died in or near Baneberry Hall.

All of them girls.

All of them sixteen or younger.

All of them in the presence of their fathers.

Something entered the room just then. I sensed it—an additional presence imperceptibly felt.

“Is this Curtis Carver?”

Silence.

“If it is you, give me a sign.”

The record player next to me switched itself on. I watched ithappen, my eyes not quite believing what they were seeing. One moment, the turntable was still. The next, it was spinning, the grooves on the album atop it blurring as it picked up speed.

Even more incredible was when the record player’s arm moved by itself, as if pushed by an unseen hand. The needle dropped on the usual spot, and the music began to play.

“You are sixteen, going on seventeen—”

I scanned the room, looking for a glimpse of Curtis Carver himself. If Maggie could see him, then it seemed reasonable I could, too.

I saw nothing.

Still, Curtis was there. The record player confirmed it.

“Did you kill your daughter?” I asked him.

The music continued to play.

“Baby, it’s time to think.”

I took it to mean his answer was no. Maybe because I had started to believe he was innocent. After all, he hadn’t been around for all those other deaths. But William Garson had been. He had been at Baneberry Hall since the very beginning, even if for most of that time it was just literally in spirit.

“Was it William Garson?”

“Better beware, be canny and careful—”

The record began to skip, a single word repeating itself.

“careful”

“careful”

“careful”

Curtis’s message was clear. William Garson was making fathers murder their daughters, just as he had.

And if I couldn’t find a way to stop him, Maggie was going to be next.

Twenty

Hannah Ditmer doesn’t appear surprised when she finds me pounding on the back door of her mother’s cottage. She seems more impatient than anything else, shooting me a look that says,What took you so long?

“Since I arrived, how many times have you been inside Baneberry Hall?” I say. “And how long have you been stealing from us?”

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