In the diary of the late Bill and Helen Mason, the words written tell a tale so fantastic it is almost impossible to believe. Yet for the last few months of their lives, they lived in dread fear of the slow steps that followed them. The story begins late one evening, in the library of the house they used to occupy. Outside, rain pummels against the side of the house, and the wind blows the leaves from the trees. But there's something else in the house, a tension, a fear perhaps, as if unseen eyes are watching...