As the wagon approached, the door to the attic stairs opened, spilling darkness over me. The stairway was inky black. The hairs on the back of my paralyzed neck prickled.
Something was waiting for us up there. Something so terrible I couldn’t even think about it.
Mentally I braced myself for a bumpy ride, but the wagon floated up the stairway.
A faint yellow light beckoned from above.
My heart felt like it was being squeezed between powerful hands. I wanted to scream but my throat stayed closed.
The red wagon glided to a stop at the top of the stairs.
This wasn’t the smashed-up attic I’d left this morning. It was a tiny windowless room with a small bed and a battered toy box and a rocking chair. Bobby’s old room.
There was light, but it was a cold light. Light from long ago.
Creeeak-creak.
The rocking chair. There was someone in it.
Suddenly I could move. Blood flowed into my muscles and I jumped out of the wagon.
The rocking chair slowly swiveled toward me. Would it be Sally? Brought here as a warning? Or Bobby himself? Or—I shuddered—the witch?
I gasped in shock. It wasn’t any of them.
It was nothing. Just a stuffed teddy bear. And an old ratty one at that.
What was this all about? Was the ghost scaring me just for the fun of it?
The chair began to rock again. And as it rocked it moved across the floor toward me. The mangy teddy bear was staring at me with its beady little eyes.
Eyes that looked almost alive.
Time to get out of here. The thing gave me the serious creeps! I backed away. Feeling behind me for the doorway.
The attic door slammed shut, barely missing my fingers.
I whirled around and began tugging on the doorknob, though I already knew it was hopeless, trying to fight the house.
My shoulder blades tensed an instant before I heard the voice behind me, as if something in me expected it.
“I am the secret.”
It was a gruff, lispy voice, like a little kid trying to make his voice go deep.
Slowly I turned around.
The teddy bear was talking to me. And its button eyes were glowing.
“I am the secret,” it said again, as if trying to convince me. “Please save me.”
I almost felt sorry for it, it was so mangy-looking and pathetic. It reminded me a little of Sally’s stuffed bunny, Winky.
Except Winky never talked or made doors shut in your face.
“Let me out of here,” I demanded forcefully.
The bear slipped down until it was lying on the seat. It slid across the seat on its back and flopped over the edge. It waggled its feet and jumped to the floor. I stared in horrified fascination.
One raggedy, mended ear fell forward over an eye as it looked at me. “You can help,” it said. Its mouth didn’t move.
It took a shaky step toward me and fell over onto its face. “Save me,” it said into the floor.
As the bear struggled upright, I scooted along the wall and crouched in a corner, pulling the rocking chair around like a barrier in front of me.
The teddy bear hesitated, then got itself turned in my direction. Reaching out its arms, it marched toward me like a miniature zombie. “Save me. Please save me.”
Its soft, furry paw touched me.
I shuddered as the teddy bear climbed onto my knee. Then instead of climbing higher, it slipped away.
Surprised, I opened my eyes.
The teddy bear was heading for the toy box. The lid opened and the worn-out old bear climbed up inside, pulling the lid down after it.
But what about the secret? What was I supposed to do now?
I heard the click of a lock.
The attic door swung open and light streamed into the little room from the stairway. It was morning already!
Forget about the teddy bear and its stupid secret—all I wanted to do was get out of there. I was almost out the door when a small creaking noise stopped me.
I looked over my shoulder. The lid of the toy box stood open.
The smart thing would be to keep going, down the stairs.
Instead I walked over and looked into the toy box. Empty. I swallowed a pang of surprise and disappointment. I hadn’t learned anything new. How could I save me and Sally—and Bobby—if I couldn’t figure out the mystery?
Had all this been to get me out of the way? To keep me away from Sally?
But as I dashed for the door the toy box lid slammed down twice. Like it was trying to get my attention. Reluctantly, I went back and peered inside.
There was something there!
28
More newspaper.
I was excited but disappointed too. All the newspaper stories I’d found had been confusing, full of things I knew couldn’t be true.
The old newspapers had told me who Bobby was and when he died but they all said he died falling from the cherry tree and I knew that couldn’t be true. I’d heard Bobby falling from the top of the stairs, many times.
Well, I didn’t want to read anything up here. Sticking the yellowed paper under my arm, I hurried down the attic stairs.
Morning sunlight streamed through the hallway. From downstairs came the sounds and smells of breakfast. I heard Sally giggling as Mom playfully teased her.
Suddenly I was hungry enough to eat a horse. Something about fighting ghosts gave me a huge appetite.
But before I could go down to breakfast I had to put the old newspapers away. I hurried into my bedroom, started to whip open the closet door—and stared in disbelief.
The hatchet.
It was buried deep in the closet door. Right in the spot where I’d thrown it through the haunted mirror.
Good thing Mom hadn’t been in here to see that!
I sat down on my bed to calm my racing heart and figured I might as well look through the bits of newspaper from the toy box.
Good thing I did. Because in the old papers was a clue. And the clue gave me an idea that changed everything.
“Jason, slow
