The House At 3:17 AM

The sudden brightness punched through the darkness so sharply that Mara stepped back. Dusty curtains leaped into view. The first-floor parlor glowed. Then the narrow hall. Then a single room at the rear, its window sealed with boards from the outside.

Somewhere inside, a switch clacked.

Mara raised her phone and began recording.

“Three seventeen,” she whispered. “Fourth night. Lights on in the entire house.”

A shout broke from the alley behind her.

“Help!”

The voice came again, closer and ragged. Mara swung the flashlight toward the sound. A man stumbled into the street, one hand pressed to his side. He wore a gray wool coat and no hat. His shoes slipped on the wet pavement.

He made it three steps past the fence before collapsing.

Mara ran.

Her boots struck the street hard enough to jar her knees. The man lay on his back near the storm drain, his face turned toward the glowing house. A dark stain spread beneath his coat, widening with each shallow breath.

“Sir?” Mara dropped beside him. “Can you hear me?”

His eyes opened.

They were fixed on something beyond her shoulder.

“Don’t,” he whispered.

“What happened? Who did this?”

His fingers caught her sleeve. They were cold and slick. His grip tightened with surprising force.

“Don’t let them - ”

The words broke apart in his throat. His hand fell.

Mara pressed two fingers against his neck. Nothing. She shifted, tried again, then leaned close enough to hear the faintest rattle in his chest.

The house lights burned behind her.

She pulled out her phone and dialed emergency services.

“Emergency. What is your location?”

“Bellweather Street, beside the Ellery house. There’s a man down. He’s been stabbed - or shot, I can’t tell. He’s not breathing.” Mara looked at the wound, at the blood soaking through wool. “The lights came on at 3:17. Exactly 3:17.”

“Is the attacker still there?”

Mara lifted her head.

The street beyond the fence remained empty. The windows blazed. In the upstairs room, something moved behind the curtain.

“I don’t know,” she said.

A porch door slammed.

Mara flinched and turned. The abandoned house’s front door stood open by an inch, though she had seen it closed moments earlier. Warm light spilled across the porch boards.

The dispatcher’s voice sharpened in her ear. “Ma’am, are you in a safe location?”

“No.”

“Move away from the body. Do not touch anything else.”

Mara looked at the dead man’s hand, still hooked in the fabric of her sleeve. His fingers had left a red crescent on her coat.

“I need to know if he’s alive.”

“Ma’am - ”

She ended the call and pressed the phone against her palm.

A car engine roared at the far end of the street. Headlights swung around the corner, followed by another vehicle and then a third. The first was a county cruiser. Its tires hissed over the wet asphalt as it stopped crookedly beside the curb.

Deputy Sloane climbed out with his weapon drawn.

“Mara?”

“I called it in,” she said, rising. “He was alive for maybe ten seconds. He said - ”

“What are you doing here?”

“There’s a body.”

“I can see that.” Sloane glanced toward the house, then back at her. “Step away from him.”

“I haven’t moved anything.”

“You’re standing over him.”

“Because I checked for a pulse.”

“Step away.”

The words carried down the street. A door opened across from the house. Mrs. Vale from the corner duplex appeared in a robe, her gray hair loose around her face.

“It happened again,” she called.

Sloane’s head snapped toward her. “Go back inside.”

“The lights came on,” Mrs. Vale said. “They always come on before someone dies.”

A second neighbor emerged behind her, then a third. Their voices rose over one another.

“I saw a man by the fence.”

“No, it was a woman.”

“There was a car parked here.”

“That girl has been watching the house all week.”

Mara turned toward the fence. “Nobody goes near the house.”

Sloane caught her arm. “You don’t give orders here.”

“The front door is open.”

His gaze flicked past her. For the first time, uncertainty disturbed his face.

Mara pulled free. “If someone went inside, you need to secure the scene before they leave.”

“Back behind the cruiser.”

“I’m telling you - ”

“And I’m telling you to move.”

The house gave a low electrical hum. One by one, the lit windows steadied. Behind the upstairs curtain, the shape appeared again - tall, narrow, motionless.

Mara pointed. “Someone’s in there.”

Sloane looked up.

The curtain fell flat.

He swore and reached for his radio. “Unit two, approach the Ellery property from the rear. Possible suspect inside.”

More vehicles arrived. Red and blue light washed over the street, turning the blood beneath the dead man’s head purple, then black, then purple again. Paramedics rushed in with a stretcher. One knelt, checked the man’s pupils, and shook his head.

“Dead,” she said.

The word passed through the crowd and settled there.

Mara watched the house while the others watched the body. The front door had closed again. Light leaked beneath it.

Detective Jonah Rusk arrived without sirens. He stepped from an unmarked sedan wearing a dark overcoat buttoned to the throat. His hair was damp from the rain, and his eyes went first to the corpse, then to Mara, then to the house.

“Who found him?” he asked.

“I did,” Mara said.

Sloane answered at the same time. “She was already here.”

Rusk’s attention returned to her. “Name?”

“Mara Ellison.”

“Relation to the deceased?”

“I don’t know who he is.”

“Why were you here?”

“To document the lights.”

“What lights?”

Mara pointed toward the house. “They turned on at 3:17. I was recording it.”

Rusk glanced at the windows. They had gone dark.

“Convenient,” he said.

The word struck harder than it should have.

“I didn’t kill him.”

“I didn’t say you did.”

“You’re looking at me like you did.”

“I’m looking at you because you were alone at a murder scene with blood on your coat.”

Mara looked down. The red marks on her sleeve had spread into the pale wool. “He grabbed me.”

“Did he say anything?”

She remembered his eyes, fixed on the house. Don’t let them - “He said someone attacked him.”

“That’s all?”

Mara hesitated.

Rusk noticed. “What else?”

The private connection pressed against her ribs. The Ellery house had belonged to her mother’s family before it was abandoned. Mara had spent one summer there as a child, before the locked room, before the argument that sent her mother away. She had never told anyone she still had a key.

“He said, ‘Don’t let them - ’ Then he stopped.”

“Don’t let them what?”

“I don’t know.”

Rusk studied her face. “Did you enter the house tonight?”

“No.”

The lie came cleanly. She had not entered tonight.

Not yet.

A uniformed officer approached Rusk, breathing hard. “Rear door’s locked. No sign of entry. We found fresh mud on the back steps, but it doesn’t lead anywhere.”

“Inside?”

“Not without a warrant.”

“Get one.”

Mara looked toward the fence. “The front door was open.”

Rusk’s gaze sharpened. “You saw it open?”

“For a few seconds.”

“Did you go near it?”

“No.”

“Did anyone else?”

“Not that I saw.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

The crowd pressed closer. Mrs. Vale called from across the street, “She knows that house!”

Mara turned. “Mrs. Vale - ”

“You were there last night,” the old woman shouted. “And the night before.”

Sloane’s hand settled near his holster.

Rusk stepped between Mara and the fence. “You’re done talking to the neighbors.”

“I need to check the porch.”

“No.”

“The door opened when the lights came on. If there’s evidence - ”

“There is a crime scene. You are not part of the investigation.”

“I found him.”

“And now you’re a witness.”

“Then let me show you where he fell. Let me tell you what I saw.”

“You already did.”

Behind him, the house lights snapped on again.

Not all of them. Only the upstairs rear room.

Every person in the street went silent.

The boarded window glowed between two cracked planks. A thin line of light appeared beneath the front door, though no one stood on the porch. From inside came a soft, deliberate knock.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Mara felt the key in her pocket press against her hip.

Rusk turned toward the sound. “Nobody moves.”

The knock came again.

This time, something scraped across the floor inside.

Mara stepped forward.

Rusk caught her wrist. “I said nobody.”

“You heard that.”

“I heard it.”

“Then why are you stopping me?”

“Because you want to go in.”

“I want to know who opened that door.”

“No,” he said quietly. “You want to get there before we do.”

The accusation landed in the space between them. Mara saw his eyes drop to her pocket, though he could not possibly see the key through the fabric.

A camera flash burst from the crowd. Someone had taken a photograph of the body. Another neighbor shouted that the killer was inside. The officers began pushing people back. The paramedics wheeled the corpse away, its hand hanging over the side of the stretcher.

Mara watched the dead man disappear beneath the pulsing lights.

Then she faced Rusk. “Record this. The lights came on at exactly 3:17 AM. The victim was found less than a minute later, on the east side of the Ellery property. He was alive when I reached him. The front door opened after the lights came on.”

Rusk released her wrist but did not step aside.

“And your motive for being here?” he asked.

“I told you.”

“No. You gave me an activity. I asked for a motive.”

The upstairs light went out.

The house became dark again, except for the thin gleam beneath the door.

Mara said nothing.

Rusk nodded to Sloane. “Take her statement at the station.”

“I can give it here.”

“You can give it wherever I decide.”

“I’m not leaving until someone photographs the porch.”

“You’re leaving now.”

He gestured toward the cruiser. Sloane moved to her side. Behind them, officers stretched fresh tape across the fence, sealing the house away from her.

Mara looked once more at the porch clock.

Its hands had stopped at 3:17.

Then, from inside the abandoned house, the lock turned.

End of chapter one. 7 more chapters and about 17,253 words in the full book.