“I said enough!” roared Dad. His face, which had been placid, blazed a fiery red and he stood there, his whole body trembling.
“Bill,” began Mom, but he shot her a look so intense and withering that she flinched as if he’d raised his hand to her.
Dad pointed his finger at the girls, first Dana and then Melissa, stabbing the air with it. “I have had enough of this nonsense. Who do you two think you are? Who do you think I am? You come here and tell me all this? You talk about breaking into someone’s desk and reading confidential papers? You lie about seeing dead girls? You do who knows what with hippies and perverts at that store? You try to get me to believe that some boy is stalking you? What exactly do you take me for? Is this how it is with kids today? You think you’re so smart, so hip, that anyone over a certain age is a fool who will believe any batch of lies you try to sell. How dare you? Both of you … how dare you? Where’s your common sense? Where’s any sense at all? And where is your decency and respect?”
The words struck Dana and Melissa like a barrage of cannon fire, driving them back into their seats, stinging their skin, hurting like actual blows. It took so much courage for Dana to speak. Her voice seemed lost, frightened away, leaving only mute silence. And yet she fought to defend herself.
“You have to believe us, Daddy,” she said.
“I don’t have to believe anything you say, Dana. I’m outraged. I’m shocked at both of you.”
“Bill,” said Mom, standing, “you’re scaring them.”
He wheeled on her. “Scaring them? I’m terrified for them. I should be able to trust my own children, and then they go and do this? To my own face? In my own house? I’m humiliated.”
“Dad, please,” began Melissa, but he growled at her.
“I expect this kind of nonsense from you, Melissa. You’ve never had your feet on the ground since you were born.”
Melissa sagged back, tears welling from her eyes, and Dana knew that he could not have hurt her more if he’d shot her through the heart. But then Dad turned his venom on her.
“And you, Dana,” he said, his face darkening from red to purple, “I had hopes for you. You, at least, tried to act right. To do your schoolwork, to be sensible. And now this? You’re even worse.”
“Dad—”
“Who do you even think you are? Investigating a crime? You’re not a trained investigator. There are highly trained and important men whose job it is to catch criminals, and they don’t need help from little girls.”
There was so much in that statement that hurt her, diminished her, deflated her.
“I’m ashamed of you, Dana,” said Dad, turning away. “I’m ashamed of both of you.”
The silence that fell was a crushing weight. Mom sat there, bullied to silence as she was so often, tears filling her eyes but staying there as if not daring to fall. Melissa wept openly, her body shaking as if she were being hit with a series of electric shocks. Dana did not know how to think or feel, and there did not seem to be enough air in the room.
“You’re both grounded,” said Dad. “God only knows for how long. I’d lock you in your rooms if I could. And you can say good-bye to your friends in school and at that stupid astrology shop. No phones, no TV, no radio, no visitors. No boys. And as of Monday you’ll both be seeing Dr. Kingston for psychiatric evaluations. Maybe this is some kind of hysteria brought on by the deaths. Maybe there’s a pill for it, I don’t know.”
He stopped and turned sharply to see Gran standing in the doorway. She wore a small, cold smile, and all the glassiness was gone from her eyes.
“You’re yelling, Billy,” she said.
“Mom,” said Dad, lowering his voice, “this is a private matter. Go back and watch TV.”
“I know what this is, Billy. It’s your own ghosts come to haunt you.”
Dad’s face drained of color and he wheeled on his wife. “You tell your mother to go sit down. Right now.”
Instead Gran turned to Melissa and Dana. “You should come and watch the TV. Someone you know is saying things you should hear.”
Before anyone could ask what that meant, Dana heard the sound of someone speaking, using the tone and meter people did when they were being interviewed. The voice was very familiar.
“… these were murders and not accidents,” said Corinda Howell. “Those dead children spoke to me in visions.”
Dana bolted from the table. Melissa hesitated for half a second, then followed, edging around Dad and Gran. On the big console TV in the living room, Corinda stood in front of Beyond Beyond wreathed by a dozen news microphones and the words BREAKING NEWS pasted across the bottom of the screen. She had makeup on and a beautiful batik dress and lots of turquoise jewelry.
“It was Maisie Bell who spoke to me first,” said Corinda. “She came to me in a dream and said that she had been murdered.”