Miss Dietrich handed over a modern key, shiny and new, much to Adam’s surprise. He expected an old brass skeleton key. She told him to bring it back when he was done, as she couldn’t climb the stairs to the attic —which was really a third floor, not just a crawl space beneath the eaves.
Adam climbed slowly, his nerves unexplainably on edge. Perhaps it was the silent house, save for the creaking floorboards beneath his feet. When finally, he reached the door at the top of the staircase, he paused to listen. And he swore he heard someone crying.