10 chapters

My Daughter Pointed at the Dumbwaiter. Then I Heard My Dead Wife Humming.

Priscilla’s hand clamped hard over six-year-old Bea’s mouth, dragging her backward across the dining room floor.

“Let her go,” I said from the doorway, stepping between them.

Bea scrambled behind my boots, pointing trembling fingers at the sealed antique dumbwaiter. Rain lashed the glass while Priscilla hissed, “Miles, don’t touch it.”

I ignored her, drove a crowbar under the painted frame, and wrenched.

Wood splintered with a sickening crack. Plaster dust cascaded down, revealing fresh food wrappers, a child’s ribbon, and a hidden steel door I had never installed.

Then the faint humming inside cut out.

Three hollow taps answered from the dark. My chest seized-it was the lullaby my first wife, Cora, had sung before she drowned six years ago.

Priscilla went paper-white as the brass handle turned from within.

Bea whispered, “Mommy’s home.”

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