“And you heard the door open and shut before this happened?”
Lucas closed his eyes, squeezed the bridge of his nose. He knew it was a hard story to swallow, but repeating the details wasn’t going to make it seem any saner. He decided to ride out Mark’s inquiry without a response.
“And Jeanie knows . . .” Mark said, sounding like he was talking more to himself than to Lucas. “Then the neighbor chick brought you some stuff and somehow that means you can’t move?”
“It means that if we move, I might lose her as a lead.”
Another pause, this one a lot longer.
“Dude.” Mark sounded baffled. “You realize that if you don’t move you might lose your kid, right?”
“Jeanie doesn’t want to move.”
“Forget what Jeanie wants, what’s Caroline going to say if she finds out? Imagine how that’s going to look in court.”
“You mean it’ll be worse than it’s already going to be?” Lucas emitted a dry laugh. “So it’s either I stay, write the book, and make some cash so I have a shot at keeping my kid, or quit, spiral into abject poverty, and lose my kid for sure? Oh, the options, my friend.”
“Okay.” Mark relented. “I hear you. But . . . maybe you should at least get an alarm.”
“Yeah? With what money?”
“Lou, you saw someone wandering around outside and it wasn’t your neighbor.”
“I don’t know if it was or if it wasn’t. It was dark. I was inside. There was a glare on the kitchen window.”
“But there was definitely someone there?”
“Of course there was someone there,” Lucas hissed, trying to keep his voice down to not wake Jeanie. “Of course there was.”
Mark went quiet.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m just—”
“You’re freaking out,” Mark said. “As you should be. But it still doesn’t make sense, Lou. You hear the door open, or close, or whatever. You walk out of the kitchen to the front door, check the lock, hear something—”
“Laughter. It was fucking laughter, like two girls yukking it up next to the refrigerator or something. The sound came from the kitchen. I know it did.”
“Okay, but even if there were two chicks in your house and they were able to miraculously sneak in without you seeing them, how the hell do they move a table and four chairs into the middle of the living room without making a goddamned sound? And how do they do that in, what, five seconds? I mean, they’d have to have been right behind you. You’d have to have gotten up out of your seat, turned your back, and they were lifting the damn thing off the floor before you ever set foot out of the kitchen.”
Lucas ran his hand across his mouth. It didn’t make sense. It was an impossible goddamn feat. And yet the kitchen table was still there, front and center in the living room. It was no figment of his imagination. He could dance on top of it if he wanted to.
“You don’t think it’s . . .” Mark hesitated, then cleared his throat. “You know, something else . . . ?”
“What, something else?”
“You know, like, the house.”
He knew it was coming. Of course. The house. The superstition. The fact that when people die in a place, that place may be haunted, if places could even be haunted.
“Is that a yes or a no? I mean, how else do you explain it?”
Lucas said nothing. There was no explanation. That was the problem.
“Lou?” Mark sounded wary. “Hey, listen, maybe you and Jeanie should come up to Seattle. We’ll go to Pike Place, watch fishmongers toss giant tunas back and forth at each other. Hell, I’ll even pay our way up to the top of the Space Needle. We’ll have a grand old time, man. Because if there is something to be worried about, better safe than sorry, right? Especially when there’s a kid involved. You don’t have to call it a move . . . just, you know, an extended visit.”
“Yeah.” Except Lucas couldn’t leave. He had work to do. He had a million questions he wanted to ask Echo, and he couldn’t do that from up north. He’d finally caught a break, and was determined to ride it out like a ball bearing in a Rube Goldberg machine.
But Mark was right—it would be good for Jeanie to get away. He wouldn’t have to worry about someone crawling through a window and getting to her while he was downstairs. That, and he could lock himself away 24-7 and work until he finished this book. A little less guilt. A little less of feeling like a worthless bastard.
“I can’t go, but if you guys wouldn’t mind taking Jeanie for a bit. At least that way I can figure out what the hell is going on around here.”
“Lou . . .” Mark didn’t sound happy. “If Michael Myers is wandering around Pier Pointe looking for Camp Crystal Lake, he’s not going to give a shit if you’re a dad or not. He’s going to chop your goddamn head off regardless. Besides, you can use my computer room. It has a door. You can close it. Nobody’s going to mind.”
“It’ll screw me up,” Lucas insisted. “Besides, if a serial killer comes knocking on the front door, it’ll give me more material.” Gallows humor. What else was there to do but to laugh?
Mark didn’t find it funny. There was a beat of silence, then a resolute sigh from his end of the line. “Fine. I’m at work until four tomorrow, but Selma will be here. I’ll tell her to expect you. But I still think it’s crazy for you to stay there if there’s a chance something weird is going on, be it an intruder or a fucking ghost.”
Except that if it was a ghost, it was the best reason in the world to stay.
If it really was a ghost, there was no doubt in his mind it was connected to Jeffrey Halcomb, to the kids who had taken their own lives in his name.
It’s not a ghost.
Yeah, probably not. But it was a damn good angle—one that would potentially sell a whole lot of books.
TWIN HARBORS METAPHYSICAL GROUP
CASE FILE: 091501
DATE: 09/15/01
ADDRESS: 101 Montlake Road, Pier Pointe, WA
CLASSIFICATION: Private Residence