“My mom is a huge fan. She has all of the Silver Spirits books and DVDs. I sort of recognized you.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
Noah looked at me. “Like I said, I figured if you wanted to talk about it, you would.”
I kind of liked the fact that he had known all along. He had never treated me differently, and now I knew he never would. “So your mom’s a fan, huh?”
He chuckled. “You have no idea. She even bought one of those ‘Doubt’ T-shirts online.”
I groaned. “I bet she’d really love our van, then.”
“I don’t watch the shows like she does, so I don’t understand all of it, exactly. But basically, you guys don’t believe in ghosts, right? I mean, your parents try to prove that they’re not real.”
“Right. They think that strange things are caused by different forms of energy that people leave behind.”
Noah nodded. “Residual energy. So they don’t believe in intelligent energy? The kind that can think and communicate and cause things to happen?”
I wondered briefly if Noah had any clue about what was happening at home. There was no way, though. No one beyond my family knew anything about the Pickenses.
“They haven’t been able to completely disprove intelligent energy,” I admitted. “They don’t truly believe in it, though. They think there are explanations for everything, and they just haven’t discovered those explanations yet.”
“But what if the explanation is that ghosts really exist?”
“Then I guess they’ll need to rewrite some of their books.”
Noah laughed and we left it at that. We worked on editing news footage for a while before I remembered that I needed his help with my plan for Jared.
“Hey, thanks for finding that article for me,” I began.
“Did it help?”
“Sort of. But now I have more questions, and I need a favor from you.”
“Another one? How many is that now?”
“I owe you, I know. Maybe an autographed book for your mom?”
He shook his head. “I was kidding. What do you need? I’m at your service.”
“The article mentioned that Jared’s car swerved suddenly. Did the police ever figure out why?”
Noah leaned back in his chair. “No. But there were a lot of theories floating around. Some other kids witnessed the accident. One guy swore he saw something in the road and that Jared was trying to avoid hitting it.”
“Something in the road?”
“Yeah, like a squirrel or something.”
Jared had told me he couldn’t explain what happened. I promised Adam I wouldn’t, he’d said. It was a promise he had kept, but he needed to break it to clear his name. It’s the only way I can move on, and the only way I know to help Avery do the same.
“What are you doing this weekend?” I asked Noah.
“No big plans. You?”
“I’m working on something important, actually. And I could really use your help.”
“I’m all yours.”
I smiled. “You may regret saying that.”
Avery gave me a ride home after school. She seemed happier than she had in a long time, which only added to my guilt later that night when I pulled out the piece of paper Shane had given me and dialed Jared’s number.
“I’m going to help you,” I told him. “But you have to do exactly what I say.”
“Anything,” he said, and I could hear sad relief in his voice. “Just name it.”
“Good. First, you need to come back to school.”
“What? Why?”
“No questions. We’ll work on contacting Adam this weekend, but only if you’re at school for the rest of the week.”
Part of “operation help the living” included making sure that Jared graduated. I didn’t know how he was spending his days, but I guessed it included sleeping too much and obsessing about the past. That wasn’t a life, I decided.
Jared wasn’t happy, but he was back in class on Tuesday. He didn’t acknowledge me, which was good because I didn’t want Avery to know anything was going on. She was turning a corner, I thought. She was laughing more and seemed relaxed. I wondered if it was because she was no longer carrying around the weight of her secret.
As I made more phone calls to put my plan into action, I had no idea that just down the street, Avery was working on plans of her own.
sixteen
The dream was foggy and I had a difficult time seeing Charlotte Pickens as she stood near the railing of a large ship, looking out over a dark, vast ocean. She was dressed entirely in black, and a cold wind whipped at her long dress and damp hair. Her daughter, also dressed in black, stood next to her. I tried to get a closer look at them. The daughter appeared much older than when I had last glimpsed her. I guessed that she was at least thirteen. They were speaking to one another softly, but I couldn’t make out their words. I felt as if I was being pulled away from the scene by firm hands.
“Focus.”
The voice was close, a strong whisper in my ear. I felt warm and comfortable, and I snuggled deeper into my blankets, relishing the sensation of sleep but aware that I was almost awake.
Charlotte stumbled as the ship rocked, and her daughter put a hand to her mother’s arm.
“Are you feeling ill?” her daughter asked.
“I am fine.” Charlotte tried to smile, but her face appeared pale and strained. She was not well, I thought. The dream began to fade, the images rippling like water. The scene changed again, and I could see a girl standing in front of a large tree. I recognized her as Charlotte’s daughter, only she was even older than she had been on the ship, possibly in her twenties. She held a small vase in her hands. As the image became weaker, I could see her reaching into the vase. She carefully sprinkled something around the base of the tree.
“You must focus.”
The voice was louder now. It was Charlotte Pickens, I realized. The dream was slipping away, and I opened my eyes, groggy and confused. It was pitch-black in the dining room, and when I rolled over on the sofa to look at the clock, I saw that it was almost three in the morning.
“Great,” I muttered. I had stayed up late to finish a grueling precalculus assignment and had been asleep for less than two hours. I sat up and pushed the hair out of my face. My eyes felt heavy, I was thirsty and part of me just wanted to fall back into my nest of warm blankets on the sofa, but I knew my parched throat would keep me awake. Pulling a blanket around my shoulders, I shuffled to the kitchen.
Someone had left a light on, which made it easier to find the fridge. I blinked as I opened the door and an even brighter light hit my eyes. I grabbed a bottled water from the bottom shelf and shut the door. When I turned around, it seemed as if every lamp in the house had been turned on. My first thought was that my parents had come downstairs.
Then I saw where the light was coming from.
I gasped. Standing a few feet in front of me were two figures. They weren’t the pale pillars I’d seen on the monitor months ago. Instead, they looked more human. I could make out their heads and shoulders, but not their faces. Fear seized me and I gripped my water bottle so tightly I thought my cold fingers would crush right through it.
I took a step backward at the same moment the taller figure moved forward. I was having trouble breathing. I wanted to scream—needed to scream—but I felt like stone. I couldn’t take my eyes off the hazy white figures standing in front of me.
They were coming for me.
My panic was growing, and I forced myself to take a step to the side, reaching out to the counter for support. If I didn’t hang on to something, I was going to pass out. My hand touched the cold granite of the countertop and I flinched, causing a frying pan to crash to the ground. The shorter figure turned and glided away from me, through the kitchen wall. The clatter when the pan fell to the floor was loud enough that I knew my parents had heard it.
The taller figure remained close to me. It moved a little, and
I could see that it was extending an arm toward me. I closed my eyes and screamed. I screamed with everything I had inside me, pushing past the fear and the parched throat and even my need to breathe. I just kept screaming until my parents came running down the stairs and into the kitchen.
“Charlotte!” Mom gripped my shoulders and I fell into her arms.
“What happened? What’s going on?” Dad sounded as panicked as I felt.
“They were here,” I sobbed. “They were right here in the kitchen.”
Mom ushered me into the dining room while Dad searched the entire downstairs, flicking on lights and opening closet doors. I sank into the sofa. Mom kept her arm around me, which I appreciated. I never wanted to be alone again.
It took me a while to calm down, catch my breath and look at my parents. Mom stayed next to me and Dad knelt by the sofa. I explained everything, starting with my interrupted dream.
“Charlotte Pickens was on a boat with her daughter,” I said. “It looked as if they were going to a funeral. She was showing me what happened, but I couldn’t focus. It was like we had a weak connection.”
I described the figures in the kitchen, which wasn’t difficult since the image was permanently seared into my brain. “Bright white,” I said. “But kind of wispy, like they were made of clouds.”
“Did they say anything?” Dad asked.
“Nothing I could hear.” I closed my eyes. “But they definitely wanted something from me.”
I was so tired, but at the same time, completely wide awake. I wondered if I would ever sleep again. Not in this house, I thought, leaning my head on Mom’s shoulder.
“They’ve become so powerful,” Mom said. “I think we should stay at a hotel for a while.”
“They’ll follow me,” I mumbled.
Dad patted my hand. “Not necessarily. I still think this energy is connected to a place, that it draws from it. The longer it’s here, the stronger it becomes.”
I let my parents discuss the options. Their voices were soothing, and I could hear Mom’s heart beat through her robe. I was warm and safe, a feeling I didn’t want to lose. When Mom shifted a few moments later, I felt a flash of fear and opened my eyes.
“Not going anywhere, honey,” Mom reassured me. “Just getting comfortable. Would you like some water?”
I nodded and Dad got up. “I’ll get it.”
“Why did this happen?” I asked Mom, feeling wide awake once more. “I mean, there were no triggers, not one. How could they appear like that?”
“I have a theory,” she said. “I think it has to do with your dream, but I could be wrong. I’m going to contact Beth later and see if she can help me make sense of all this.”
“I thought you didn’t trust psychics.”
Mom squeezed my shoulder. “Charlotte, I’m beginning to think that we have completely left the realm of scientific explanation. I’m going to go with my gut on this one.”
Dad brought me my water, which I accepted gratefully and drank in one long gulp. I had forgotten how thirsty I was, and my throat was raw from screaming.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Almost four,” Dad replied.
I groaned. “I have school in a few hours.”
Mom pulled a blanket around me. “No school today. You need to rest.”
Relieved, I closed my eyes. I was aware that my parents were whispering to one another, but I blocked out what they were saying. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that they believed me and they were taking charge. Mom wrapped the blankets around me more tightly and got up.
“Just going to the kitchen, hon,” she said. “Back in a minute.”
I could hear my parents talking in the kitchen. It sounded as if Dad was trying to convince Mom of something, but she was disagreeing with him. Their voices got louder, and soon they were yelling.
“Mom?” I called.
She was at my side in a second. “Everything okay?”
I sat up. “What are you guys fighting about?”
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
“I think she should hear this, Karen,” Dad said. “If she says no, then fine. But Charlotte might be open to it.”
“Not tonight, Patrick. Just drop it, please.”
It was serious when they used each other’s first names like that. They had my attention now. “Tell me.”
“We could do an EVP session right now, while the energy is strong,” Dad said, talking fast. “It could help us figure out what’s going on, how it’s manifesting itself like this.”
Mom sighed. “Patrick, we’ve had enough excitement for one night.”
There was no way I wanted to face my ghosts again, but I knew Dad had a point. The energy was strong and we had a good chance at contacting something. They were obviously trying to communicate with me. What if they were trying to tell me that we were on the wrong path? If we were making mistakes in our search, the Pickenses would keep getting stronger and reaching out in more terrifying ways. I was afraid to contact them, but I was more afraid of them contacting me. My parents were arguing again, so I stood up.
“I’ll do it.”
“Charlotte, you don’t have to do anything—” Mom began.
“No, Dad’s right. Let’s just get this over with.”
I told them that if things got crazy, we were leaving the house immediately and going to a hotel. They agreed. Dad wanted to call Shane to come over, but I said that we were doing it now before I changed my mind.
“The equipment’s already in my room,” I told them as we walked upstairs. “Shane set it up last week.”
Mom sat next to me on my bed, one arm draped protectively around my shoulder. Dad checked out all the cameras, switched things on and grabbed a digital recorder.
“Just ask some basic questions,” he directed. “Five minutes, Charlotte. That’s all. Then we’ll be done.”
He turned off the lights, which gave me a moment of pure panic. Five minutes, I told myself. Just get it over with.
I began the way I’d seen Annalise do a thousand times. I asked if anyone was there and said I’d like to speak to them. “This is Charlotte,” I clarified. “I need to know what you want from me.”
“We’re getting something,” Dad announced. I could see the dull green glow from one of his meters and sat up a little straighter.
“Please tell us what to do,” I said, trying to make my voice loud and clear. I paused, hoping that the digital recorders were picking up something. We wouldn’t know until we were sitting at a computer.
“We’re still trying to find your daughter,” I continued. “We’re looking. We need more time.”
“The ion meter just spiked,” Dad said. “Something’s here.”
Mom squeezed my shoulder. “You’re doing great,” she whispered.
“Where should we be looking? Do you know where your daughter went? Do you know what happened to her?”
We waited awhile. I braced myself in case we saw something or heard scratching or voices, but nothing happened. Before the five minutes were up, Dad turned on the lights.
“Battery’s drained,” he sighed. It happened all the time. A perfectly charged battery could die within seconds when something was present. The theory behind it was that energy needed a source to draw from in order to manifest itself.
We went downstairs. I was relieved that things hadn’t gotten crazy, but I could tell Dad was a little disappointed. He lived for this kind of thing.
While my parents worked on the digital recordings in the living room, I fixed up my blankets on the sofa. The sun would be rising soon. I was exhausted, and as soon as I felt safe enough, I was going to sleep. It was Friday, I realized, and I was supposed to meet Jared on Saturday. That wasn’t going to happen now. I needed to focus on the dead before I could help the living. I would call Jared later and tell him we needed to wait a few weeks.
“We’ve got something!” Dad called from the living room.
My parents were sitting in
front of one of the monitors wearing their headphones. I grabbed a pair and sat down next to them.
“This is right after you introduced yourself,” Dad explained. He clicked the mouse and I watched the screen, where I could see a spiky graph which indicated voice patterns.
Please tell us what to do, I heard myself say.
Find her, a man’s voice whispered.
On the recording I began speaking again while the man was still whispering, so I couldn’t make out what he was saying. Then I heard my voice again.
We need more time.
A woman’s voice responded. It was not a whisper this time but almost a shout.
No!
She sounded desperate, I thought, as if a deadline was quickly approaching and there was nothing she could do. I listened to the rest of the recording and heard my questions about what we should do and where we should go. The man’s voice came across again, this time louder than before.
Return.
It was a command. The man’s voice held none of the desperation that the woman’s did; instead, he sounded angry.
Return.
It was softer the second time, and I knew it was right as the batteries had drained from the equipment. They were using all the energy they could muster to get their message across. Maybe their appearance in the kitchen had weakened them.
We listened to the recordings a few more times before taking off our headphones.
“Where are we supposed to go?” I asked. “Return where?”
Mom rubbed her eyes. “The place we came from, I suppose. Charleston.”
Dad stood up. “I’ll call Annalise.”
“It’s not even five in the morning yet, hon,” Mom said. “We can wait a few hours.” She turned to me. “You need to get some rest. Don’t worry, we’ll be right here.”
I was too tired to protest, so I went back to the sofa, curled up under my blankets and wished for dreamless sleep.
seventeen
“Hey, kid. Time to wake up.”
Late-afternoon light spilled through the curtains of the dining room. My head felt foggy, as though I’d been asleep for days. Shane stood in the doorway, smiling. “Good. I thought you’d slipped into a coma.”
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