She shuddered again. That wall…where she’d seen the blood.

A woman had been impaled there.

Douglas was clearly becoming anxious. “I have to ask you, Carolyn. If you have no idea what goes on that room, why did Uncle Howie hire you? No disrespect, but you’re a private eye, not a Ghostbuster. You track down missing people, real live missing people. You go after insurance frauds-not avenging ghosts.”

She smiled. “Well, I have a bit more experience than that.” She related the paranormal cases she’d investigated, both for the FBI and on her own. Douglas listened intently, particularly intrigued by the zombie guy. Most people were. “But,” Carolyn concluded, “I can’t claim to be an expert on the supernatural. That’s why we’re going to see Kip.”

Douglas made a short laugh. “And that’s why I wanted to come along. Why should we care what he thinks? He failed last time. How can he help us now?”

Carolyn understood Douglas’s bitterness. When Kip had tried to end the curse ten years before, he had given the family hope-and it had been Douglas’s father, in a way, who’d been the family’s test case. Whatever Kip had done, they had hoped it would allow Douglas Senior to survive the night in that room. But their hopes were futile.

“Kip has trained with the very best psychic investigators,” Carolyn said, defending her friend. “He has witnessed some extraordinary things. I’m sure he did his best trying to help your family. Certainly he has some key insights into what goes on in that room. And he may be able to point us to other people who can help as well.”

Douglas seemed pessimistic. “The lottery is a month away. We don’t have a lot of time.”

“No, we don’t,” Carolyn admitted.

Douglas ran a hand through his blond hair. Ever since he’d learned the secret, he’d felt as if he were carrying around a heavy lead weight tied to his neck. He let out a long sigh.

“Uncle Howie said that for the last decade he’s spoken to dozens of people. No one could help. It wasn’t until the eleventh hour that he got a recommendation to meet with you. And now, he said, you’re our last hope.”

Carolyn understood that, and she felt the pressure. Perhaps she had no right accepting this job. What did she know? How could she figure this all out in time to prevent another death from occurring just a month away from now-especially if Howard Young was withholding information from her, willingly or not? She clung to the hope that Kip could help, that he could point her in a direction that might lead to an answer. But all he’d promised her on the phone was to tell her what he knew. “And that,” he’d said forlornly, “was clearly not enough ten years ago.”

Douglas had closed his eyes again. “In a strange sort of way,” he said, almost as much to himself as Carolyn, “learning the secret of that room was a kind of relief. It’s like I always knew that something was going on with the family, that there was some deep dark mystery that might explain my parents’ deaths.”

“It must be a horrible thing to live with,” Carolyn said.

She thought of her own family and the hardships they’d faced. Her parents, too, had died painful deaths. But they’d had their children around them. Friends. The goodwill and support of their community. There were no lingering questions after they were gone. Just grief and loss. On that much at least, she could relate to Douglas.

The plane began its descent over the long narrow arm of Cape Cod. Once they were on the ground, the pilot opened the door for them and guided them down the three steps onto the tarmac. Inside the small airport, a man wearing a crisp blue suit waited. He told them he was Mr. Young’s driver, and he would take them up to Fall’s Church, the tiny village where Kip Hobart lived.

For the entire half-hour ride, neither Douglas nor Carolyn said a word. Douglas gazed out the window, thinking back to the day his father died. He remembered being wakened slightly by his father’s kiss on the forehead. That must have been right after he’d been selected in the lottery, and right before he went down to the room. He was coming to say good-bye, Douglas thought, his eyes filling with tears at the realization, though he would not let himself cry. And Mom…so terrified, so grief stricken, that depression took over and caused her to end her life. She couldn’t bear to live with the thought that I, too, might someday have to spend a night in that room…

Carolyn sat looking out of the other window, consumed by her own thoughts. What if I can’t find an answer? They’ll hold the lottery again. Someone will go into that room… And what if it was the young man sitting beside her?

At last they pulled up in front of a small cottage along a marshy inlet of the Atlantic Ocean. The sky had gone gray, and Carolyn felt chilled suddenly as she stepped out of the car. The air felt damp. Tall yellow reeds swayed along the soggy banks. A heron touched down into the water ahead of her, flapping its wide wings.

The driver waited in the car as Carolyn and Douglas headed up to the door. Even before they’d had a chance to knock, it was opened by a man wearing a beige cardigan sweater and blue jeans.

“Hello, Kip,” Carolyn said.

They embraced. Douglas was surprised by how young Kip Hobart was. He’d expected an expert in the supernatural would be an old man with a white beard. But Kip couldn’t have been more than forty, and was quite handsome, with a broad smile and a strong jaw. His sandy hair was fading to white at the temples, and there was a weather-beaten feel to his skin, but his eyes were very young. Watching the affectionate greeting Kip gave Carolyn, Douglas found himself a little jealous. The suddenness of the feeling surprised him.

“Kip,” Carolyn was saying, “this is Douglas Young.”

The man’s eyes filled with compassion as he extended his hand. “Your father was a good man. A brave man. Not a day passes that I don’t think of him.”

Douglas shook his hand. He couldn’t speak. He just nodded.

Inside the cottage, the walls were lined from floor to ceiling with books, many of them old and dusty. Douglas had expected to see skulls and crystal balls in the home of a guy who made his living chasing the supernatural, but the most unusual thing in the place was a framed movie poster of Freaks, complete with pinheads. Other than that it was a simple place, with an old sofa covered with a striped afghan, wicker baskets on the walls, and a big conch shell sitting on top of the old television set.

A woman that Kip introduced as Georgeanne served them all hot cups of coffee. “The days are getting cooler out here,” Kip said, and they all nodded. Georgeanne was maybe thirty, a beautiful dark-skinned woman with short hair. Her accent sounded Caribbean. From their intimacy, the way they smiled at each other and gently touched each other’s arms, Douglas assumed that Kip and Georgeanne were either married or in a relationship. It chased away any lingering thoughts of jealousy.

They sat on the back deck overlooking the marsh. Another heron had joined the first, and a dozen or so ducks paddled along the perimeter. Carolyn held her coffee mug in both hands to warm them. She couldn’t shake the chill.

Douglas just sat there, staring at Kip, at this man who knew more about his family’s secrets than he did.

“I wish I could have saved your father,” Kip said, speaking the words they were all thinking.

“I’m sure you did what you could,” Douglas replied. And sitting there now across from the man, looking into his compassionate eyes, he felt certain that Kip had done everything in his power. He couldn’t blame him for his father’s death.

“I’ve reviewed all your notes and the log you kept,” Carolyn said. “But I still have some questions… That’s why I felt a meeting would be helpful.”

“Of course,” Kip said.

Douglas leaned forward. “I haven’t read anything, so maybe you can just tell me a couple things first, okay?”