Bookworm Hienrichs was busy writing in the late afternoon light, sitting at her desk on the second floor of their still-new home. As she paused, frowning over a word, she became aware of an uneasy sensation, and the hairs on the back of her neck began rising. She started a little, though she wasn’t entirely surprised, when she heard the bell hung above the entrance to her office ring.
“What is it?” she asked quietly.
“There’s a man standing outside,” came the voice of the ghost Sofie. “He’s been studying the house–the windows, the doors. You can see him if you stand up.”
Bookworm leaned back, then stood up and stretched, as if taking a break from her work. She kept her movements idle, even as her eyes racked the street outside, coming to rest on the male form standing by a lamppost across the way. She couldn’t make out details, but he seemed to be a rough-looking man, with short brown hair and dirty clothing. But even as she tried to see more about him, he moved off up the street.
She frowned at the retreating figure. Was this another one connected with PJ? She sensed that Sofie was still by her, and said, “Ask the others to keep a close watch out for this one. I don’t like the looks of him.”
“Of course,” Sophie said, fading from Bookworm’s view.