When they got upstairs, Mike frowned and looked at the front entrance. “Hey, did you leave the door open when we got here?”
“No … I’m pretty sure I closed it.” It was open now, and creaking in the breeze. The sound of the rain was soft but clearly audible from where they stood.
They looked around, but there was nobody else visible. “I’m sure I closed it!”
“I know, I remember you closing it too,” he said. “Hello? Anyone there?”
The only reply was a creaking of the floor upstairs. They glanced at each other. “I don’t like this,” Jo said, voice low.
“Keep your cool,” Mike said, voice tinged with concern. “It could be anything.”
Jo had some private doubts about that; stepping lightly, she crossed the floor to the front door and put her finger to her lips, then pointed back toward the basement. Mike nodded in surprise. She couldn’t read his expression in the gloomy lighting, but he turned and headed back the way they’d come. She waited until he’d had enough time to descend, then pushed the door closed firmly before following him as quickly and quietly as possible.
“This is ridiculous,” he whispered as she reached the top of the stairs. He hadn’t gone down.
“I have a bad feeling. A really bad feeling,” she said. It was more than just a gut feeling; she was starting to feel a little like she had when she’d seen those odd people the last Friday. The head-rush feeling was different though. Much less intense. Maybe I’m imagining it, she told herself.
“If your bad feeling is right, we’ve just shut ourselves in with whoever it is,” Mike growled, sounding like he had his own bad feeling.