Chapter 6 — David

She told David that night.All of it: the index card, Eleanor Hargrove, the sounds, Lily's vent, the path on the attic floor that wasn't made by any animal Phil the exterminator could identify. She told it plainly, without hedging, the way she told him important things, because the alternative was carrying it alone and she had been doing that for three weeks and it was getting heavier.David listened. He was good at listening — it was one of the things she'd loved first about him, the completeness of his attention when he chose to give it.When she finished, there was a silence.Then he said: "One woman's bad experience doesn't mean—""Multiple families, David. Multiple experiences. A man in Portland who can't walk past an attic.""Which could have a dozen explanations that aren't—""Lily heard her name through the vent."That stopped him.He looked at the ceiling. "Old houses have acoustics that—""She said it was practicing. She said it was trying to get her name right." Nora kept her voice even, because if she let the evenness go she wasn't sure what would come out instead. "Those are not the words of a child who heard a raccoon."David was quiet for a long time. He had the expression she recognized — the one where he was reconciling two versions of reality and finding the math difficult."What do you want to do?" he said at last."I want to find out what's in that attic without opening the door.""You can't—""There's a window. On the north face. It's accessible from the section of roof above the second-floor bathroom. I want to get a camera up there. External."He looked at her."I'm not opening the door," she said. "I need you to understand that. Whatever Eleanor Hargrove's husband thought he heard, whatever reason it gave him — I need you to understand that the door stays closed.""Nora, you're acting like—""Like what?" She said it quietly. "Like there's something in there. David, there's something in there. And it talked to our daughter. And I need you to be on the same page as me because if you're not—"She stopped. He looked at her. She looked back."Okay," he said. He said it like a man who wasn't entirely convinced but who loved his wife more than he loved being right. "Okay. Camera first. We'll see what we see."She reached out and put her hand over his."Don't go up there alone," she said. "Promise me that."He promised.She believed him.She should not have believed him.