Katie watched her intently. “Saw you?”
Doreen Sue nodded. “It seemed that way. The light, or eye—whatever it was—shifted and the whole car was engulfed by a beam. The craft glided closer and hovered in front of the hood. It covered the entire roadway. I got out of the car, but don’t remember much other than staring up into the light. The next thing I knew, I was behind the wheel and the sky was empty. To this day, I swear it was some kind of alien spacecraft.” She rolled one shoulder, feeling self-conscious. “I know a lot of folks called me crazy and laughed when I told them, but I wasn’t the only one who reported seeing things back then. Some people wouldn’t talk about the stuff because they didn’t want to be laughed at. The ones who did talk were warned silent.”
“Warned silent? By who?”
“The Men in Black.”
Katie stiffened. “Men in Black?”
“That’s what we called them. I don’t know who they really were.” She took a sip of coffee. The liquid in the cup had started to cool, a speck of instant creamer clotted under the rim. The longing for a cigarette grew stronger. “They were all over Point Pleasant in those days—men in black suits, driving shiny black cars. Sometimes they said they were with the Air Force but no one believed it, and the Air Force denied any association. Folks were warned not to talk about the UFOs. Some even had their phones tapped. A friend of mine used to get calls the same time every night for a period of weeks. She’d hear a man talking in some weird guttural language. Words that made no sense, like she’d been hooked into a phone call in a foreign language. It was all so strange.”
“I remember a man in a black suit.” Katie looked at her oddly as if trying to piece the memory together as she spoke. “I was outside your salon on the night the bridge collapsed, and he asked me where he could find you.”
“I don’t remember talking to any of those fellas, but I think they snooped in the house a few times. It was always when you kids were asleep or at school. I’d find things disturbed, like an open cupboard door or hear a rapping sound.” Doreen Sue swished her coffee in her cup. “We never found out who they were, or why they wanted everything about the UFOs kept hush-hush. Some people said the whole thing was connected to the Mothman.”
“There was a man in black at the hotel today.” Katie obviously didn’t remember anything about nightly noises or finding items moved around, which was just as well. “He came in when Sarah and I were there, and warned us that people shouldn’t talk about the lights they’d seen.”
Doreen Sue tightened her fingers around the ceramic handle of the mug. “It’s happening again. Back then there were so many reports of weird lights, folks called it a UFO flap.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means there was a whole bunch of sightings right here in Point Pleasant.” Doreen Sue liked the idea of showing off her knowledge of otherworldly events, but hoped her daughter wouldn’t label her a weird conspiracy theorist like Jerome. “Back in ’66 and ’67, people used to hang out nightly looking for lights in the sky. I went up to Conway Road in the TNT a bunch of times, but never saw anything except for that night coming home from Ravenswood.”
Katie nodded somberly, her expression distracted. Worried because she seemed focused elsewhere, Doreen Sue reached across the table and took her hand. “What are you thinking, honey?”
Katie’s gaze shifted toward the living room and Sam. “I think I remember why I liked to draw.”
Chapter 7
A tranquil hush clung to the corridors of West Central Mental Health Institute.
Most of the staff didn’t like working night shifts, but Nurse Brenner preferred the stillness. The hallway lights had been dimmed and patient rooms were dark. An occasional murmur or whimper disrupted the quiet as a restless sleeper battled troubling dreams, but for the most part silence ruled. Doors were shut at night, all rooms carefully secured.
Nurse Brenner’s rubber-soled shoes squeaked softly against the vinyl floor as she patrolled the halls. As she neared Parker Kline’s room, an odd scratching sound drew her up short. She pressed her ear to the door.
Nothing. Maybe she’d imagined the noise.
Palming the keys on her belt, she located her master and slipped it into the lock. Inside, the room was dark, a sliver of light beneath the bathroom door the only brightness to pierce the shadows. A crackling sound intruded on the stillness as if someone had set a radio to the wrong frequency. The bed was empty, blankets balled at the foot.
“Parker.” She rapped softly on the door to the bath.
The static came again, interspersed with clicks. Puzzled, she tracked the source to a small table by the window. Earlier in the day she’d found Parker there, a collection of shaded and partially shaded papers scattered around him. The drawings were gone, but his radio sat near the back. In the space of two heartbeats, the faceplate exploded with light, and a loud burst of static blared from the speakers.
Nurse Brenner jumped, her pulse accelerating with the speed of a freight train. Recovering quickly, she gripped the dial, but the button refused to budge, already locked in the off position. The jarring cacophony of noise and light died as abruptly as it started, plunging the room into near-black silence.
Gooseflesh pimpled her arms.
The crazy thing had to be operating off batteries. Of course. Floyd must have snuck in a few double-As during his last visit. Biting down on her bottom lip, she used her thumb to manipulate the rear compartment.
Empty.
Her heartbeat ratcheted higher, a trickle of cold sweat oozing down her neck.
No power cord.
How could the radio broadcast without power? “What in heaven is going on?”
Light flared behind the dial and the tuning knob moved on its own. With a yelp of surprise, Nurse Brenner flung the radio onto the table.