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the line who wants to know whether we have volume three, issue six of The Wilford Leader . I told him that Wilford doesn’t print the Leader but that we might have back issues of the Gazette , but he insisted that it used to be printed here in town.”
    She nodded. “It was printed until 1985. So…well before your time. But we have a lot of the back issues in the archives.” She chuckled when Mike rolled his eyes. “The archives” was actually just a fancy way of referring to the attic of the converted old Victorian house that served as the Wilford Municipal Library. “Take down his information and tell him I’ll return his call tomorrow. I’ll go upstairs in a little bit to check.”
    Mike nodded and Marnie walked away, pushing a cart of nonfiction books toward the elevator that they’d carved out of the old butler’s pantry. She’d shelve them on the second floor and then head up to the attic—er, archives .
    The elevator arrived, and the doors opened on a slow roll. God, this thing is so old. But there were only so many tasks one could accomplish on a small budget, and making the elevator move faster was not even close to the top of the priority list.
    What felt like eons later, she was pushing the cart through the stacks, sliding books back into place and straightening the spines as she went along. If there was one thing she was exceptionally proud of, it was how neat and welcoming she kept the library. It took a little extra work to make sure that things were always shining and clean, but it was worth it.
    After a while, she left the empty cart next to the elevator and took the staircase up to through the third floor, where community education classes were sometimes held in the converted old servants’ quarters, then continued up an even narrower set of stairs from there into the attic.
    The sun was already low in the sky, and the small windows up here didn’t let in much light. She flipped on the single bulb, which was the only light that they’d bothered to install in the attack when the library first opened. Hopefully, it wouldn’t blow out before she found the newspaper. The bulb buzzed to life, and the room glowed a dim yellow, creating more shadows than even the approaching dusk would.
    The archives was the only part of the library that she didn’t spend much time cleaning. Since only the staff was allowed up there, it was crowded and stuffy, not as welcoming a space as the lower three floors. At least she made sure to keep it organized, if not completely dust-free.
    It was cold, too. The heating system hadn’t been extended to the attic when the library had last been renovated, about thirty years before. The former librarian had maintained the archives on the floor below, unwilling to open up the rooms for use by the community. She hadn’t been what one might call a people person .
    Marnie trailed a finger along the shelves, idly thinking to herself that she really needed to conduct a fundraiser to get someone to digitize the collection of old periodicals and journals before they all crumbled to dust.
    “There you are,” she murmured, as The Wilford Leader appeared under her finger. Back issues were bound in large booklets, with several issues glued into the big bindings. She searched the spines, moving all the way to the end of the shelf. There it was. Volume one . Marnie slid the book out of its place and began walking back toward the door at the top of the stairs.
    But just as she reached the first step, a loud THUMP sounded behind her, and Marnie froze, journal in hand.
    What in the world was that?
    She turned back slowly, looking around the room. The dust mites were stirring wildly in the air, as though someone had just walked through the room on the opposite side. But there was no reason they should be moving so wildly, at least not so far away from where she stood.
    A chill zipped up her spine.
    Probably just another Wilford Ledger volume, sliding and bumping against the wall now that