James had been halfway through answering emails when he heard the sound that didn’t belong in the house—thin, broken, unmistakably human. Crying. It came from above him, muffled but urgent, drifting down from the attic like a distress signal. For a split second, he froze, trying to place it, hoping it was a trick of the floorboards or the wind. Then he heard his son’s voice crack, and his heart kicked into a hard sprint. He took the attic stairs two at a time. Liam was crouched near the far wall, knees pulled to his chest, his small hands shaking...
Continues…