Page 13 of Widow’s Walk

Amy’s heart pounded as she looked toward the floor. “It came from the basement.”

Her feet pounded on the stairs as she hurried to the basement, Mason right on her tail.

They caught up to Sully, who shook his head at in Mason’s direction but didn’t say anything. Without a word, they turned and headed toward the basement.

The storm’s intensity was more noticeable down here. The old dirt section of the basement, with its low ceilings and uneven floors, always felt cold and damp, but today it was worse. The wind howled through the cracks in the foundation, and every so often, a faint draft would brush past, raising goosebumps on her arms.

They found the crew gathered near the far end of the basement, their faces tight with concern.

“Hey!” Sully barked, his voice cutting through the low murmur of their conversation. “What’s going on?”

One worker, Mike, turned to him. “It’s Garrett. He’s stuck in the far room. The door slammed shut, and we can’t get it open.”

Sully frowned. “Did he lock himself in?”

“No, man,” Mike said, shaking his head. “We think it was the wind—or maybe the pressure from the storm. But the damn thing won’t budge.”

Another worker chimed in. “We felt this cold draft, though. Real cold. Makes me think maybe we’ve got another crack or something in the foundation.”

Sully gritted his teeth. “Great. Just what we need.”

He stalked past them to the heavy wooden door at the far end of the basement, Amy following close behind. It was warped and old, but it shouldn’t have been impossible to open. He pressed his palm against it. “Shit, the door is freezing… Garrett!” Sully called, rapping his knuckles against the door. “You good in there?”

A muffled voice came from the other side. “Sully? What the hell’s going on? The door won’t open!”

“We’re working on it,” Sully said. He gestured to Mike to grab the tools. “Hang tight.”

But then Garrett’s tone shifted, panic creeping into his voice. “Who’s there?” he blurted.

Sully’s frown deepened. “Garrett? What are you talking about? It’s just you in there.”

“No,” Garrett said, louder now. “I saw someone. Who’s there? This isn’t funny, guys!”

Sully looked toward the crew as if counting them. As far as Amy could tell, they were all present and accounted for. A few of them stepped back, an uneasy titter spreading through the men.

Inside the room, Garrett’s voice grew more frantic. “Seriously, cut it out! This isn’t—” He broke off with a yell, and a loud thud echoed through the door, as though he’d stumbled back against it.

“Open the damn door!” Garrett barked. The urgency in his voice made Amy’s heart pound.

The crew scrambled to remove the pins from the hinges, their hands fumbling as Garrett’s shouts turned into full-blown screams.

“Let me out! Let me out!” Garrett was banging on the door now, his voice raw with terror.

Finally, the door came free, and it swung open with a loud groan. Garrett stumbled out, his face pale and drenched in sweat.

“What the hell happened?” Sully demanded, grabbing Garrett by the shoulders.

Garrett jerked away from him wildly. “That wasn’t funny, man!” he shouted. “Who was in there with me?”

Sully stared at him. “Nobody was in there, Garrett. You were alone. Everyone is right here.”

Garrett’s gaze swept over them all, and his expression twisted into something close to horror. “No. No, I wasn’t. I saw him—he was right there! A dark figure, covered in seaweed, dripping wet.” He shuddered, running a trembling hand through his hair. “He grabbed me. I swear to God, he grabbed me!”

The pale-faced crew stood frozen. Amy’s stomach fell. The man looked terrified out of his mind. Sully just shook his head, as if trying to make sense of it.

“I don’t know what the hell it was,” Garrett said, his voice rising. “But I’m done. I’m not staying here another minute.”

He threw down his tool belt and stormed up the stairs.