There was no movement in the barn windows, and she wondered if she was too early for it. She glanced over the rest of the yard, the moonlight casting odd shadows here and there. The trees that lined the driveway were budding, but she could still see through their branches to the ground below. The moon made things on the ground look very cold, with hues of silver and grey.
One shadow caught her eye, and she studied it closely. It looked like the shadow of a person, and if she was calculating it right, the person would be standing behind one of the trees, hiding from her view. She knew it was probably her imagination running wild, but she entertained herself by looking at it, waiting for it to move.
It did, and she stepped back from the window, startled.
When she reapproached the window the shadow was still there. She kept watching, and it moved again. Someone was there, hiding behind the tree.
She considered going for the gun, but then decided to take advantage of the River. She placed the mug on her nightstand and laid down on the bed, allowing herself to jump into the flow the moment her head hit the pillow. She felt herself rising up, and she went back to the window. The shadow was still there. She pressed forward through the wall, feeling the odd sensation of passing through it, and descended to ground level, moving quickly over the rocky driveway toward the tree that concealed the figure.
She gave it a wide berth, keeping plenty of distance. When she passed beyond the tree and could see its backside, she discovered that no one was there.
Carefully she drifted closer, looking for the shadow. It was still there on the ground, just as she’d seen it earlier. She waited for it to move, and after a few moments it shifted.
Nothing is casting it, she thought. There’s nothing there.
She moved even closer, and as she came within an arm’s length of the tree she felt an alarm go off in her body; it felt as though every hair stood up on her arms and the back of her neck. Although she couldn’t see anything there, she could feel it. She had surprised whatever it was, and it was reacting to her presence.
The shadow began to dissipate, and within seconds it was gone.
She felt her heart racing. What just happened? she wondered. Did I scare it away?
She turned to look at the house and considered returning to her body, but she caught sight of the barn, and curiosity got the better of her. She drifted over the ground until she came to the same window she’d seen movement in the nights before. She looked inside; it seemed quiet and still.
If I’m going to take on something like Pitmon House, she thought, I’ve got to get this down. No better place to start than with the ghost on my own property.
She passed through the walls of the barn and found herself near the plastic tubs she’d perforated with the shotgun, still tumbled over. Immediately she turned to look at the mower, where she’d seen the figure before, but nothing was there.
I’m in the River, she thought. I should be able to see it, if it’s here.
A thump from her right caused her to turn, and she saw movement near a corner. It was very dark, but she could make out the back of a man, hunched over, facing away from her, as though he was dealing with something on the ground.
She approached apprehensively, wanting to understand what she was seeing, but still scared and unsure of her gift. When she was within a few feet of the man, he suddenly whirled around and looked up at her. She stepped back in fright.
He rose to his full height, just over six feet. His face was twisted and his hair seemed to be matted down with dark matter — dirt, or blood. He raised a hand opening his palm. Inside it was the tiny face of a child; its eyes opened, glowing yellow, and when its mouth parted, it exposed rows of rotted teeth.
Stay out, the man spoke, or I’ll release them into your house! He extended his arm to give Eliza a better look at the face, which now seemed less like a child and more like a doll. A green gas slipped from between its lips, filling the air with a stench Eliza remembered from a childhood encounter with a dog’s corpse on their property — the smell of death and rotting flesh. She found herself moving backward in horror, wanting to get away from the rancid smell. The man took a step toward her, chasing her. Within seconds she found herself passing back-first through the barn’s wall and into the yard. She continued until she was ten feet from it, glancing at the window. Its face appeared there, looking for her, and she felt a chill go up her spine as its yellow eyes landed on her, recognizing her. It pressed its face up against the glass; part of its nose turned to mush and smeared on the pane.
She dropped from the River, finding herself back in bed, a stabbing pain at the base of her skull. She was aware of her heart beating loudly, pumping blood rapidly through her body, and she could feel the adrenaline that had been released while she was in the flow, amping her up and making every sense feel as if it were maxed out. As she rose from the bed and reached to rub at her neck, she walked to the window, wanting to look down into the yard once again, determined to not let whatever she’d seen scare her from her own window.
The face was no longer at the barn’s window, but she thought she could see the smear it had left. Could be a reflection, she thought. I could go down and check.
She looked over at the tree. The shadow was still gone.
I’m not scared of you, she thought, turning her gaze back to the garage, trying to replace her fear with courage. Whatever you are.
As she took off her clothes and sipped more tea before slipping into bed, she hoped that the figure in the barn had been able to hear her thoughts. Then she remembered the face in the figure’s palm, and she wondered what it meant by its threat — what exactly had he threatened to release into the house? What would it do?
Stink up the place, she thought, and laughed to herself, continuing to try and diminish the fear she felt. For a moment she imagined those tiny faces roaming through the house as she slept, perhaps hovering over her in her bedroom. She pushed the thought from her mind, realizing she was making things worse by speculating.
That’s probably what it wants, she thought. It wants me to worry about that little demonic face.
She thought, instead, about Shane, and how she hoped Granger would have some news for them tomorrow. As the tea worked its way into her system, she slowly drifted off.
●
“It’s as bad as I feared,” Granger said as they sat around his dining table. He was glancing over a notepad where he’d jotted down his observations from the journal. “First off, it does give us what Nick was trying to do. He’d been approached by one of the trustees. They’d been trying to do something with the property for years, despite some members of the family resisting any attempt to sell or demolish it. Something always fell through; contractors got cold feet when their equipment failed, and realtors refused the listing when the place frightened them out of their minds. Or so Nick wrote.”
“A trustee?” Eliza asked. “The house is controlled by trustees?”
“At least ten years ago, when Nick was involved,” Granger replied. “After years of trying different things, one trustee named Harlan Alexander approached Nick. Harlan’s wife was a Pitmon, and that’s how he wound up on the board; she had no interest in the place, but they had to represent their family ownership in it to maintain control, so he was appointed to a trustee position. Apparently he was a believer, and suspected the problems with the place were supernatural. He’s the one who involved Nick, hoping he could fix whatever was wrong with it, and make it sellable.”
“I wonder how that went over with the other trustees,” Robert said.
“He never told them,” Granger continued. “His involving of Nick was kept secret. Nick was given keys and Harlan made sure the security that patrolled the grounds knew he was approved to be there, but the other trustees didn’t know anything about it.”
“This Harlan Alexander still alive?” Robert asked.
“I looked into that,” Granger replied. “His wife died five years ago; he lives alone in Madison. He�
�s in his eighties. And he’s still a trustee.”
“Can’t be a very active board,” Robert replied.
“I would expect not,” Granger said.
“If he’s still a trustee,” Eliza said, “then that’s our way in. He can still get us onto the property, just like he did for Nick.”
“Yes, that’s an option,” Granger replied. “Although I’m not sure you’ll want to pursue that once you hear the rest.”
“Go on,” Eliza said.
“There’s really two or three more key points in Nick’s journal,” Granger continued. “You saw the drawing he made of the ground floor. He wrote extensively about it, and reiterated over and over the need to avoid the second floor. There’s a landing at the top of the stairs, and he says that’s OK, but he warns explicitly to not go farther.”
“Why?” Rachel asked, flipping the pages of Nick’s journal.
“That’s where you get killed,” Granger said. “I suspect Nick didn’t follow his own advice. Toward the end of the journal he suggests that the next step in his investigation would necessitate going to the second floor. I believe that’s where he died.”
“Does he say why he went up there?” Eliza asked.
“No,” Granger replied. “But from what I read, I think it might have been because of things he learned from the only communicative ghost in the house. The place was notorious for being haunted by dangerous, evil spirits who don’t converse — with this lone exception. Reid Pitmon. His room is on the landing.”
“If the trustee will let us onto the property,” Robert said, “we might be able to talk to this ghost. It could fill in what Nick didn’t relate in his journal.”
“And if it leads us to the upper floor, like it did Nick?” Rachel asked.
“We’ll deal with that if it comes to it,” Eliza replied.
“Just so you know,” Granger said, “and I’m not telling you this to try and dissuade you, but Nick died a gruesome death. It was a closed-casket funeral; they told me his body was in no shape to be viewed. Nick was no amateur. He must have severely underestimated the threat in that house. We need to be careful and not repeat any mistakes he made.”
“We don’t even know what those mistakes were, exactly,” Rachel said.
“That’s my point,” Eliza replied. “Until we understand why he felt he needed to go up to the second floor, we’re flying blind. We need to talk to Reid Pitmon, like he did.”
“It may turn out that’s as far as we can take it,” Granger said. “You should be prepared for that.”
Eliza looked up at Granger. She knew he meant well, but he didn’t understand what was really happening to Shane. Of all the people in the room, only herself and Rachel had been to the hospital and had seen the toll it was taking on his body.
“We need to find out what the connection is between Yessler and the house,” Eliza said. “That’s different than what Nick was doing — he was just trying to find out what made the house tick, right? I’ve got a much more specific thing I need solved. That might cause us to look at things differently than Nick did.”
“Agreed,” Robert said. “It’s a different perspective.”
“You’re new to this,” Granger said. “You don’t understand your limits. If we reach a point where we have to back off for everyone’s safety, we’ll back off. You need to understand that.”
“Excuse me,” Eliza said, rising from the table and walking toward the door. She wanted to step outside and breathe the air for a moment; her emotions were riding high, and she didn’t want to say anything that she’d regret. She passed through the hallway and into the office. When she reached the door that opened to the outside, she realized it was locked in multiple ways, and she couldn’t figure them all out. Frustration grew inside her until she heard a voice behind her.
“Here,” Robert said, walking up to her with a key. “Let me.”
He had the door open within seconds, and held it for her.
“Thank you,” she said, and slipped out. She took a few steps and looked up at the night sky, letting the air escape from her lungs.
“Do you mind if I join you?” Robert asked.
“No,” she replied. “I just needed to step away for a moment.”
“I understand. He means well, trust me.”
“I know he does,” she replied. “It’s just that I feel I have to do all the convincing. It’s becoming exhausting.”
“I’m on your side,” he said. “You don’t have to convince me.”
She looked at him. Light from the streetlamps lit one side of his figure, and the other was dark. She felt that if she wasn’t wrapped up in trying to help her brother, she’d make a pass at him and see how he responded. The attraction was there, she was sure of it. He also seemed to have everything she liked in a man — the ability to listen, and to show up. His handsomeness didn’t hurt.
“Thank you,” she said. “That makes two of us.”
“We’re all on your side, really,” he replied. “Even if it doesn’t seem like it.”
“Rachel almost bailed,” she said. “When she learned Pitmon House was involved, she almost dropped me like a hot potato.”
“Rachel’s had a difficult history,” Robert said. “Don’t judge her too harshly. I think she’s on board.”
“She told me that in her past, someone got hurt. What happened?”
Robert smiled. “It’s not for me to say. I try to stay out of people’s personal affairs.”
“Well, that’s admirable,” she replied, a little irritated that he wouldn’t tell her, but appreciating his ability to keep a confidence. She felt herself liking him even more.
“Listen, my dad just wants you to understand the consequences,” he said. “Trust me, I’ve been dealing with him my whole life. There’s an easy way to handle him; just nod and agree. He needs to see that you’re hearing him. It doesn’t mean he’s against you or won’t help. He just wants to know you’ve heard him.”
“Like my father,” Eliza muttered.
“Parents are all the same, I guess,” Robert replied.
“Let’s go back in,” she said. “I’ve had enough air.”
“Good,” Robert said, stepping aside to let her pass.
When they walked back into the space, Granger was on the phone.
“He’s talking to Harlan Alexander,” Rachel said. “The phone number he had for him in the journal still worked! He’s trying to get an appointment with him.”
“See?” Robert whispered to Eliza as he passed her, on his way to the kitchen.
Eliza smiled and took a seat at the table.
“You OK?” Rachel asked.
“I’m fine,” Eliza replied. “Just needed some air.”
“Let’s see what happens,” Rachel said. “One step at a time, OK?”
“Just as long as things keep moving,” Eliza said. “Shane’s not doing any better. I don’t know how much time I’ve got.”
Granger hung up the phone. “Well, well!” he said, returning to the table. “He was downright chipper. I’m seeing him tomorrow at 10.”
“Thank you,” Eliza said. “I apologize for walking out.”
“No apology needed,” Granger replied. “I know the stress you’re under. Tomorrow I’ll try to get permission from him to enter the property, and we’ll go from there.”
“First stop, Reid Pitmon?” Rachel asked.
“It’s the only stop we’ve got at the moment,” Granger replied. “If he’s as talkative as Nick suggests,” he tapped Nick’s journal with his finger, “we might make some headway.”
Chapter Ten
It was a day off for Eliza. Normally she spent such days buying groceries and doing housework, but with Shane still in the hospital and all the travelling she’d been making to Madison, there was still plenty of food in the house. Shane’s absence also meant cleaning wasn’t really urgent.
Still, there were chores to be done, if she was inclined to do them. She was looking out the kitchen window,
knowing the grass was in need of cutting, when the phone rang. It was Granger.
“Got the keys,” he said.
“That quick?” Eliza asked.
“He spent more than a decade since Nick died trying to get someone to help,” Granger said. “No one would touch it with a ten foot pole. He was more than receptive to my offer. I’d like to go inside as soon as you can get here, during daylight if possible.”
“I’m on my way,” Eliza said. “Meet you at the house?”
“Let’s meet at my place,” Granger said. “We can all go in one car. I’d like to bring as little attention to what we’re doing as possible.”
“I’ll call Rachel,” Eliza said. “See you in a bit.”
The grass can wait, she thought.
●
As they drove into Madison, Rachel began to have second thoughts. “We need to be very careful and not underestimate this place. I used to hear all kinds of bad things about it.”
“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” Eliza replied. “But I never even heard of it until now.”
“Normal people don’t know,” Rachel said. “It was a gifted friend of mine from years ago. She wouldn’t even say the name of the place.”
“Who’s this friend?” Eliza asked.
Rachel’s lips pressed together. “No one,” she replied. “Doesn’t matter.”
“But she was gifted?”
“Yes,” Rachel replied curtly. There was an awkward pause. “Alright, yes, we had a falling out, over the whole thing I told you about.”
“Oh, the guy who got hurt?”
“Right. We used to be good friends. At least, I thought we were. We haven’t spoken since it happened. Anyway, she knew of Pitmon House. Said it was black spotted.”
“Black spotted?”
“When gifteds consider a place so dangerous they want to warn other gifteds about it, they say it’s ‘black spotted’. I don’t know if it means there’s literally a black spot on it…I never went there to see. The look on her face when she mentioned it was enough to keep me away.”
The Haunting of Pitmon House Page 10
