The Man Next Door

The House

And sinister. Louise Hartman, who lived next door, had been the first to spot it.

The single man rarely let his grandmother out, and he never let anyone in, no matter how many cookies they came with.

He was the only unsociable person on the whole street.

Louise had known early on that he was hiding secrets.

That was hardly surprising. The place almost moaned, haunted by its past. Louise could feel . . . a presence hovering over there, peering over the property line, whenever she went up her own front walk.

Her daughter insisted she was imagining things.

A house was just a house. It didn’t have a life of its own.

And no, Zona hadn’t felt any creepy vibes since she’d moved in with Louise.

Of course, Zona was dealing with so much in her own life she probably wouldn’t recognize a creepy vibe even if it came up to her and rattled her bones.

Could a house absorb the emotions of the people who lived in it? Did bad vibes linger long after those people had moved out? Once infected, did that house become a magnet for more of the same?

Louise shivered as she watched the Realtor put a sold sign on the front lawn. Maybe the new owners would dispel the gloom. Maybe she would no longer pick up her pace every time she walked past the place.

But what if this unsettled feeling she was getting was a premonition?