In the hallway, hidden behind the carved banister, stood Bernice Wakefield, the newly hired nanny. She was in her late fifties with silver streaks in her dark hair and eyes that missed nothing. She had lived enough life to recognize the difference between tantrums and torment. She knew the scream of a child seeking attention. This was not that sound. This was the sound of agony.
Bernice had been in the house for three weeks and had already noticed troubling details. During daylight, Milo was charming and soft spoken. He loved puzzles. He asked questions about birds and maps. Once nighttime arrived, the boy transformed into a trembling creature who clung to doorways rather than enter his room. He begged to sleep on the rug or curled up in an oversized reading chair. He refused the bed entirely. His stepmother, Tessa Whitmore, insisted Milo suffered from severe night terrors and attention seeking episodes.