“Can we do this again tomorrow?” he asked, increasing the speed of his pedals and shooting off in front of them. “No, probably not. And don’t go too far ahead,” Isabel cautioned him. It was a familiar routine—riding in a loop around their neighborhood and back again. Except this time, Phillip led them across Dearborn Avenue, detouring them past their normal route and towards the ritzy historic mansions along Astor Place. “Where are we going?” Aidan stopped and glanced back at his mother for reassurance. “To see a haunted house.” Phillip nodded ahead, encouraging him forward along the sidewalk. “Which one is it?” Aidan pedaled ahead with fury. “That one,” Phillip directed him, pointing out the red granite fortress. Aidan suddenly braked and skidded in front of the familiar mansion. Isabel stared at its broad granite staircase and imposing stone lions. It looked so much more untouchable and threatening in the daylight than in the tempting lure of darkness.
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