Upstairs and down, she saw no sign of Timothy York.
Only a strange, heavy sound echoed through the house. THUMP, THUMP, THUMP...
It was three in the afternoon, and the day was bright, but the sound seemed to rise from the darkest depths of the earth. It sent an icy chill through her, making her shiver in spite of herself.
Summer Thorne stood by the stairs for a long time.
She was listening to the sound, and she was also looking at... the car key on the coffee table.
The sound continued, one beat after another, incessant, as if urging something on.
Finally, Summer Thorne hurried forward, snatched the key, and rushed out the door.
The car was parked under a tree just outside. Summer Thorne scrambled to start the engine, her eyes fixed on the front door of the house.
Her nerves were so frayed that her hands trembled, and she accidentally put the car in the wrong gear—
BANG!
With a loud crash, the car slammed into the front steps.
