“Hello? Is somebody there?”
He had seen that sort of panic before, had spotted it on the face of a woman who had run up the platform stairs just in time to miss the number 7 train. Jeanie had been fussy that night, which was why they had left the party they were attending early to head home. Caroline was busy taking care of their toddler while Lucas stared out the train’s scratched-up safety glass, his head still fuzzy from all the wine he’d drunk. A woman had come up onto the platform, just missing the train. A hooded figure appeared at the top of the stairs behind her. The woman’s eyes went wide, as if seeing her own fate approach. She held up her hands, fending the figure off. It was the last thing Lucas saw before the train screamed down the rails, nixing prey and predator from view.
Lucas had scoured for news of a subway station assault for weeks. Haunted by the fact that he may have been the last person to see the woman alive, he struggled with the idea that she was somebody’s little girl, someone’s Virginia. It had taken him months to shake her ghost. Now, the familiar dread was back.
Halcomb’s neo-followers—the new generation who, according to Josh Morales, took the time to write Halcomb prison letters on the regular—could easily be prowling the woods. Copycats looking to sacrifice a pretty blonde on the cult leader’s long-abandoned stomping grounds. The more Lucas considered the possibility of eccentrics hanging around the area, the more likely it seemed. He hadn’t spotted any markings on the property suggestive of such visits, but anything was possible. Some people traveled the country to check out haunted spots. Others drove thousands of miles just to get a look at crime scenes that were long since cleaned up. If people were dedicated enough to write to Halcomb thirty years after his crimes, how much of a stretch could it be for some nut job to visit the infamous house on Montlake Road?
“Is anybody out here?”
He looked into the darkness, but the night was still. All he could hear was the dull roar of the ocean a quarter of a mile away, the constant whoosh of water ebbing away from the shore.
Left with no other choice than to let it go, he turned back toward the house, nearly choking on his own heartbeat when he found Jeanie standing in the open kitchen door.
“Jesus, you scared me.” He exhaled a dry laugh, trying to steady his pulse. But his daughter’s dark expression didn’t offer much consolation. The shadows that cut across her face made her look severe. Her bruised eye gave her a skeletal appearance, like a death mask waiting to smile.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked.
“Just getting some air.”
She jumped onto the tail end of his lie as soon as it left his throat. “Did you see somebody?”
“What? No.” The last thing Lucas needed was Jeanie worrying about people creeping through the trees.
“Dad.” She stood steadfast in the doorway. Her arms coiled defensively across her chest. “I know.”
Every muscle in his body tensed. For a split second, he tried to assure himself that what she was referring to had nothing to do with the house. But he could see it in her eyes—fresh enlightenment, the spark of a riddle that had suddenly come clear.
“What?” It was the only word he could squeeze out of his throat, a single syllable heavy with the hope that he was wrong.
“I know what happened here.”
Lucas’s face flushed hot. “I don’t . . .”
. . . don’t know what you mean.
“Dad.” She looked him square in the face, not in the mood for games. “I read all about it online. I know what this place is.”
INVESTIGATION REPORT
Puget Sound Paranormal Group
CASE FILE: PPW101
DATE: January 6, 1989
RESIDENTS: Hailey and Robert Yates, Trisha Yates COMPLAINT: Possible poltergeist activity. Items moving. Apparitions spotted outside by T. Yates, particularly in the backyard.
REPORTED PHYSICAL INCIDENTS: None INVESTIGATION: Investigators Jesse Stern and Caleb Morrow conducted thorough tests, including three one-hour electronic voice phenomenon sessions, temperature readings, and electromagnetic field tests. There was a significant spike in EMF readings in the cherry orchard behind the home, as well as in the living room. Possible electrical problem in the home causing EMF spikes. Results were inconclusive. No EVPs. Temps were steady. No eyewitness accounts of items being moved as reported.
SUGGESTED ACTION: House cleansing for the residents’ peace of mind; however, PSPG does not believe this property to be haunted.
SUGGESTED FOLLOW-UP: None
20
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Monday, February 22, 1982
One Year, Two Weeks, and Six Days Before the Sacrament
THAT MORNING, THE rain clouds allowed the sun to touch the earth for the first time that year. Jeffrey and his family were quick to take advantage of the weather, racing against another rainfall as they gathered in the cherry orchard behind the house to worship the sun.
Avis was not invited.
Left to sip her morning coffee inside the house, she spied on the group through the kitchen window as they sat in a loose circle among the wild grass and trees, chanting something back and forth as if in song, laughing among each other. They raised their hands to the heavens, swaying back and forth like a bunch of earth-loving hippies. She supposed they had left her out because she wasn’t truly a part of the group yet. Whatever they were doing out there, it was a family matter, but her exclusion nagged her regardless. Jeff had taken her into his arms and asked her to promise herself to the group; when she had, things had changed even more.