Emma Frederick bolts upright in bed, pulse racing. It must be a bad dream. Except it’s not. Crrrrrreeeeeeeeaaaaaaakkkkkkk. The sound of the loose step sends her body into overdrive, and she rushes for the secret room behind the wall. The screech of old hinges echoes through the house as he enters her bedroom. He starts whistling. Three blind mice. Three blind mice. She slaps a hand over her mouth, stifling her scream. He’s coming for her, but that can’t be. She killed him last month.
