Free The Dead End by Mimi McCoy Page B

reluctantly got up, too. She wasn’t looking forward to going back to the house.
    “You first this time,” Erik said as they began to make their way back across.
    Gingerly, Casey stepped out onto the rocks. She was halfway across when Erik suddenly gave her a push from behind. She lost her balance and splashed into the stream, falling in up to her knees.
    “What did you do that for?!” Casey shrieked.
    “Not so bad, right?” Erik said.
    Cold water rushed around Casey’s legs. After she’d recovered from the shock of falling, she realized it felt surprisingly good.
    Erik grinned. “Now you have one less thing to be afraid of.”

CHAPTER TWELVE
    Casey squelched home in wet sneakers. As she walked through the front door, she was hit with the smell of paint.
    “Hello! Anyone home?” Casey poked her head into the living room. It looked bright with fresh white paint, except for one wall that had been painted brickred. The paint still looked wet, and there were brushes and rollers strewn around, but the room was empty. Somewhere in another part of the house, she could hear someone hammering.
    Casey sighed and climbed the stairs. In her bedroom she took off her wet shoes and socks, laying them on the windowsill to dry, then changed out of her sweaty T-shirt.
    As Casey was pulling a clean tank top over her head, she suddenly became aware of a different sound. It was softer than the hammering, but just as steady.
    Tap-tap-tap-tap.
    Casey paused and listened. There was a long pause; then it came again. Beneath it, Casey thought she heard the faint sound of someone crying.
    She went out into the hallway. “Mom?” she called. “Dad?”
    There was no answer. The hammering had stopped. Casey listened again. The muffled noise was louder now.
It definitely sounds like crying,
she thought.
    She followed the sound to the end of the hall. At the door to the attic, she stopped. The crying seemed to be coming from somewhere overhead.
    Casey hesitated with her hand on the knob. She’d avoided the attic ever since the day she’d gone up there with her mother.
    But what if Mom or Dad is up there?
she thought.
Maybe they went up to the attic and something fell on them. They could be hurt!
    Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob. In the narrow stairwell, the sound of crying was clear. Casey was sure she heard someone call, “Help me!”
    “I’m coming!” Casey yelled, her feet pounding the steps. She had a terrible vision of one of her parents lying injured above her.
    The tapping was back, and louder now. The sound swelled into thumps, then bangs. Someone was pounding violently against something, as if trying to get out.
    “I’m coming!” Casey shrieked again.
    She emerged into the attic, practically stumbling into the room. Casey looked around frantically. The room was empty.
    But she could still hear the desperate pounding. It was coming from the corner of the attic.
    Casey started toward the sound, but halfway there she froze. Her blood turned to ice. The thumps were coming from inside the steamer trunk.
    Casey didn’t remember turning and leaving the room. The next thing she knew, she was scrambling down the staircase, screaming for her parents.
    She heard footsteps, and suddenly her parents were in the hallway, their eyes wide with surprise and concern. Casey threw herself into her mother’s arms.
    “There’s something up there!” she cried. “There’s something in the attic!”
    “Casey, what is it?” her mother exclaimed. “What happened?”
    “Someone was knocking and crying!” Casey was crying herself now. “They were calling for help!”
    “A
person?”
Her father looked alarmed. He brushed past her, headed for the stairs.
    “Don’t go up there!” Casey screamed. But her dad was already taking the steps two at a time.
    “Joe, be careful!” her mother called worriedly.
    “It’s the ghost, Mom! It’s the ghost. I know it is!” Casey clung to her mother like a baby. Her mother held her and