“What was that?”
She sighed. “Nothing. The house is just making some weird creaking sounds. I’m going to check it out.”
“Don’t go in the basement,” her dad joked.
“Ha ha.” He wasn’t helping her mood.
Bracing herself, Julie followed the sound into the kitchen. The static on the line cleared—apparently, the signal was better in here. The sound came again. Not a scratching, exactly. A rattling.
“Is something in the basement?”
“Probably a serial killer,” Dad joked. “Take a baseball bat.”
“Oh, Greg, that isn’t funny. Stop that! I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Julie hoped her mom was right. “You’re right. It’s probably just a draft. Do you want me to call you back?”
“No, no. Stay on the line. Did you get the list of things you need to do for the party?”
Julie crept closer to the closed basement door, her heart pounding. She barely heard herself as she answered, “Yep. Cleaning out the house should have been on the top of the list.”
A sigh. “Well, it has been a couple years since Gram closed it up. I guess that’s to be expected. There might be a maid service in town…”
In Pinecone Falls? Doubtful.
“It’s fine. It’ll give me something to do. I have ten days until the party, and it’s not going to take that long to straighten out the catering and decorate.”
“If you’re sure…”
When she was inches from the door, it gave another rattle.
“What was that?”
Apparently, the noise could be heard even over the phone.
“The basement door.”
Her dad joked, “Just like in all the scary movies.”
“Oh, Greg, you are not helping.”
Julie took a deep breath. This was Pinecone Falls; nothing ever happened here. It was probably just a mouse. And if that were the case, she should check it out. It wouldn’t do to have mice running around at the party.
She reached for the basement door and yanked it open.
Meoowwww!
A ball of fur exploded from the basement and past her, out of the kitchen. Julie’s yelp was strangled in her throat.
“Julie? Jules, are you there?” Her dad’s voice sounded worried. For all his teasing about what was in the basement, he really was concerned for her.
She cleared her throat and said, “Yep. Some kind of wild animal, I think.”
“So not a serial killer.”
“Try not to sound disappointed, Dad.”
Mom interjected, “You should call animal control. Don’t confront it. It could be dangerous.”
