The high trills of a little girl’s laughter echoed around the hallway, its origins unclear. The dark presence I’d felt downstairs was behind us now, passing through us toward the open door. We all shivered, but only I knew why. “I’ll get the doll,” I said, my voice cracked and dry.
General Lee barked and then came bounding down the attic stairs without the cat, and sat at my feet watching the progression of the cold mass of air moving toward the door and the steps. He stayed where he was, the little coward, when I moved forward. I strained to make out the shape of the dark stain of air that seemed to stretch and shrink in front of me. The stench was unbearable, like the smell of rotting meat, reminding me of my conversation with Rich Kobylt about the cat.
It surged ahead of me, up the attic stairs, hovering halfway up. Without taking my eyes off it, I took another step forward within grabbing distance of the doll. I reached out my hand, ready to snatch the hair and yank it toward me regardless of how valuable and rare it was. The doll didn’t belong on those stairs, and I resented it thinking that it did. My fingers brushed only air, falling short of the doll’s head, and before I could try again, the door slammed in front of me, narrowly missing my hand.
Sophie uttered a small expletive completely out of character for her, and I was sure the workman would have said even worse if he’d not already run downstairs, leaving his hammer behind and a promise that he would never come back.
Without taking my eyes off the door, I reached down and picked up General Lee, feeling his little body quivering in my arms. A loud meow came from the other side of the door, making the three of us jump.
A vigorous scratching began in earnest, causing General Lee to whimper and struggle in my arms. “We can’t leave it in there,” Sophie said.
“We can’t?”
Sophie frowned at me. “No. It could damage the doll. And it would be inhumane,” she added hastily. She was horribly allergic to animal hair and had never been a pet person—which was why my dogs liked to sit on her lap when she visited. “One of us has to open the door and let it out.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “You’re volunteering the one of us who’s had more experience with unexplained things like doors slamming with nobody there.”
Her eyes widened innocently. “You said it, not me.”
I unceremoniously dumped the dog in her arms, then faced the door again. “Is there anything up there?”
She sneezed, and I felt partially gratified. “It’s the little girl’s bedroom, I think—although why one would put a child in a hot attic is beyond me. I don’t think it’s been touched since she died. Well, except for water damage from the leaking roof. Didn’t you show it to Jayne?”
I shook my head. “We assumed it was just the attic with the usual collection of attic junk.”
“Jayne needs to come take a look, decide what to do with it. The girl’s nightgown is still at the foot of the bed.”
I was sure my look of horror matched her own. The sound of vigorous scratching was louder now, but that was not what propelled me forward. I felt the other presence, too, the one I associated with the flash of white that I’d seen several times on my visits to the house, a presence that was light and without malice. I could almost feel gentle hands moving me toward the door. It opened as I neared, revealing a bright ray of sunlight streaming down the stairs from the attic window, illuminating the doll and the cat sitting next to it. The other presence was mercifully gone.
With a loud screech, the cat leaped past me and then down the stairs, General Lee barking his annoyance at being held back.
“Did you get it?” Sophie asked.
I turned to her with the doll in my arms. “Yeah, I have it.”
“No. I meant the cat. Did you find it or did it run back up the stairs?”
“It ran past you—didn’t you see it?”
She shook her head. “I must have been too busy trying to restrain Cujo here when it slipped by. As long as it’s not trapped in the attic.”
“Yeah,” I said. “What a relief.”
She put down the dog and handed me the leash and I happily relinquished the doll. “I have no idea how this got here, but I suggest you plant it in your friend’s office so that he thinks he’s merely going insane instead of giving him proof.”
We walked quietly down the stairs and were surprised to find Rich Kobylt standing in the middle of the foyer, his Clemson hat off as he scratched the back of his head.
“Anything wrong?” I asked, trying to pretend I hadn’t seen one of his workers run from the house like a bat out of hell.
“Can I be honest with you?”
Both Sophie and I nodded.
With a lowered voice, he said, “I don’t want to scare you or nothin’, but I think this house might be haunted.”
We stared back at him with carefully neutral expressions.
“But don’t you worry. I’m a little sensitive to this stuff, and I’ll let you know if I think there’s any danger.” His eyes drifted to the doll and I saw him shudder violently. “Good Lord, what is that?”
“Not to worry—we’re taking it out of the house. One less thing to haunt it.”