Tymber Dalton (28 page)

She kissed him. “Okay. If you’re sure?”

He nodded. “I don’t want you driving all the way back over here at night.”

But he wanted her to drive all the way to Tampa?

* * * *

When they returned to the truck, Sami turned on Matt. “Okay, what the hell was that about?”

Matt held up his hands. “Not my idea. Steve asked me when my meetings were, and then said it wasn’t fair for me not to have a car. I told him I didn’t need a car for a couple of weeks yet, but he was almost frantic about it.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know!” Matt started the truck. “All I know is he kept saying the weirdest stuff, like, ‘everything was clear in his head.’ He wasn’t making sense.”

Steve had—in fact—scared Matt, but no way in hell he’d admit it to Sam.

“
You have to have your own car
,” Steve said. “
Keep the keys on you
.” What the hell was that about? And, “
I won’t let it happen that way. Don’t let me hurt her, promise me, Matt, promise me you’ll protect her, no matter what
.”

Steve had been coherent. The nurse came in and checked his temperature and other vitals while they’d talked. Everything appeared normal.

Steve had grabbed Matt’s wrist, his grip strong and tight, and wouldn’t let go until Matt swore to keep her safe. Matt agreed, even though he felt guilty. When Steve released Matt’s arm, it was like a peace settled over Steve. He started talking about the hospital food as if their conversation never happened.

“And why isn’t Steve being admitted to a psych ward?” Matt asked. “I think he had his doctor talked into signing admission papers and now Steve’s coming home.”

“He doesn’t belong in a psych ward. They can’t help him.”

“You don’t think he’d benefit from a Thorazine drip? Because personally, I think that kind of cocktail might be exactly what he needs.”

“Nothing they do can help him beyond getting his infection under control.”

“What the hell are we supposed to do? Sit him down and say, ‘Now, Steve, we know this is difficult to accept, but you’re possessed by a crazy drunk guy’s spirit and we’re here to help?’”

“Julie might be able to help him.”

“Ha! The cappuccino lady? Sam, this is a looong way from séances and Tarot cards. If there’s really something wrong with him supernaturally, we need serious help.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” she screamed, her fury shocking him into silence. “Don’t you think I know what’s at stake? Believe me, I’m
fully
aware of what we’re dealing with. But unless we can help Steve, when I divorce him, he’s probably going to end up dead like George Simpson and Tom Prescott and all those other people! If you don’t mind, I’d rather not have that on my conscience!”

Matt nearly ran off the road and forced himself to keep both hands on the wheel, and his eyes on the vehicle ahead of him.

When I divorce him,
she’d said.

Not “if.”

When.

* * * *

It was a silent drive to Tampa. Sami spent the trip staring out her window. Matt didn’t speak except to verify directions. It would be easiest and cheapest to rent from the airport and return it before his flight home.

Outside the terminal, he put the truck in park and got out. She slid behind the wheel. “But I need to—”

“I’m a big boy with credit cards. I’ll call it a business expense and charge it off. I’m the boss, I can do things like that. You go back to the house. I’ll find my way there.”

“Then I’ll see you at home.”

“You can call that place home?”

She shrugged. “It feels a lot better than it did before Julie cleansed it. I know it’s still got problems, but…” She shrugged again. “It’s growing on me.”

Like a cancerous tumor
. “Go ahead, sweetie. You don’t need to wait on me.”

* * * *

Steve closed his eyes and tried to sleep. Matt’s promise put him at ease. He would make sure Sami stayed safe, no matter what.

He should have insisted on being admitted instead of letting Sami talk Dr. Raymond out of it. She had no idea what she was dealing with. Neither did Dr. Raymond.

The dreams were vivid, unlike anything he’d ever experienced, and they were getting worse. A little girl, raped and dumped in a hole in the ground. A woman, tied to a bed and raped. A man hanging from the banister. An Indian girl…

He didn’t want to think about it.

And yet, he couldn’t help it.

It might be his overactive imagination, but that didn’t explain the clarity of the dreams he had about Sami and Matt. Like they had wine coolers the night before, and how she fell into Matt’s arms at the park gate when he arrived.

Or Matt lying in the guest bed, thinking about Sami, and how he breathed in the scent from her hair while she slept in his arms after they heard the noises in the attic.

How they found a cache of whiskey in his office closet, and knew he hadn’t touched that stash.

Sami lied about the appointment. He wasn’t sure why, but there weren’t bugs in the house. He didn’t want to lose Sami. Even more, he didn’t want to hurt her.

He kept seeing the house out of different eyes, in different times—flashbacks?—and it scared him.

There was something else, too, a woman with curly, red hair, and he didn’t want to think about her because she filled him with rage.

He woke up disoriented and remembered he was in the hospital.

Again with the dreams.

He couldn’t tell what was real and what was in his mind anymore.

God, I need a drink.

* * * *

Matt was nearly an hour behind Sami. The Toyota SUV handled great. He thought the four-wheel drive might come in handy on the sandy park roads.

Pog was immobilized in the kitchen. Matt found Sami downstairs in the basement, staring at the empty bookcase. “What’s going on?”

“Look up.”

He looked up. “Yeah?”

“What do you see?”

He shrugged. “Floor joists, a few cobwebs, electrical conduit.”

She handed him a tape measure. “Go upstairs and measure from the living room doorway to the far kitchen wall, the one the basement door’s on. Then come back here.”

She had a determined look on her face, the “don’t ask questions, just DO it” look. He measured a hair over fifteen feet and returned to the basement.

She pointed at the joists. “That’s where the kitchen wall is. Measure from there to the bookcase.”

He must have miscalculated. “Eight feet?”

She nodded. “Pog won’t even go close to the threshold. Come watch this.” She took the tape measure from Matt and they went upstairs.

Pog looked miserable under the table. Sami extended the tape measure, laying it on the floor and locking it. The living room threshold was at the fifteen foot mark. The far end of the kitchen table stood at eight feet.

Matt realized he hadn’t seen Pog go around the far end of the table, just the end closest to the basement door.

Sami reached into the fridge and pulled out a hotdog, one of Pog’s favorite treats, one he couldn’t resist. He saw the dog’s interest grow when Sami stepped over the eight-foot mark and waited at the doorway.

“Poggy, Pog-wog, c’mon, here, boy!”

The Lab stopped at the end of the kitchen table, extending his nose, but not his feet, into the “neutral zone” between the eight- and fifteen-foot marks.

He would not cross.

She looked at Matt and tapped the floor with her foot. It sounded hollow, not solid, like under the living room floor where the basement didn’t extend. “That’s where the room is.”

“Fine, but how do we get into it?”

She tossed Pog the treat and he took it under the table. “I don’t know, but we’ve got enough time to eat before Julie gets here. We need to be honest with her and tell her the full story.”

“I don’t want to read in the papers she’s feeding them stories about Steve being possessed or something.”

“That won’t happen.”

They were finishing their meal when Julie’s green Element appeared in the drive. “Right on time,” Sami said.

She held the kitchen door open for Julie, who was weighed down by a large box of items, as well as a backpack, a duffel bag, and another carry case slung over her shoulder. Her wild hair was tamed into a ponytail. She’d changed into jeans and a black T-shirt.

Sami could picture this Julie running a company.

Pog ventured out from under the table. He determined she was friend, not foe, and retreated to his lair.

“I don’t think I’ve seen a Lab that calm before.”

Sami shook her head. “He’s not. Watch this.” Sami put the tape measure on the floor and repeated the hot dog experiment with the same result. Julie’s eyes widened.

“Oh, wow! What happens if you try to make him go through the door?”

Sami grabbed Pog’s collar and tried to drag him across the linoleum. His paws slipped and skidded, but he frantically pulled back, whimpering, fighting her, thrashing wildly. Sami let go and he retreated with a hurt look. She fed him another hot dog. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but we had to show her.”

Julie looked stunned. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“Watch this.” Sami led Pog out the kitchen door, around the porch, and through the front door into the living room, where he happily jumped up on the window seat.

“He won’t go through that doorway?”

Sami shook her head. “Not to save his life.”

“Can I film that?”

Sami looked at Matt and he shrugged. “Sure.” She brought Pog back to the kitchen and got another hot dog.

“Feed half of it to him now,” Julie suggested, filming, “and we’ll get this in one shot. I want to film him eating the hot dog to show he likes it.”

Sami broke the treat in half and he scarfed it. She moved into the “dead zone” and tried to get him to follow.

He stopped at the eight-foot mark.

Matt stepped around Pog and tried to pull him toward Sami. Julie filmed the dog’s terrified scrabbling and thrashing.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Julie said. “Don’t stress him.” Matt released Pog’s collar.

Julie had one more request. “Can you take another hot dog and take him around through the living room and try to bring him into the kitchen that way?”

Sami did, with the same results. Pog refused, plus he managed to splay his back legs wide enough to catch on either side of the doorway for traction. Sami let him go and gave him the hot dog.

“You won’t need any dinner tonight after all those snacks,” she told him. He retreated to the window seat.

Julie stopped filming. “That’s absolutely incredible.”

“I would appreciate it not ending up on YouTube.”

She shook her head. “Absolutely not. This is only for me, for my files. I’m going to set it up in the basement while we work, see if I can catch anything on film.

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Matt admitted.

“I have a portable FLIR camera, too.”

“Isn’t that what they use on that TV show?”

She nodded. “I’ve got the same model. My best friend works for them as a production assistant, and hooked me up with the manufacturer.” She unpacked a case from the box. “It records on a DVD. This way, I can keep popping new discs in and not have to worry about rewinding video.”

“You don’t have an EMF meter in there do you?” Matt joked, his laughter silenced when she held one up. “Oh.” It looked like an expensive piece of equipment.

“This isn’t spooky Ouija board sessions. This is science. More often than not I can usually debunk a place. I’m not one of those flakes that goes in and sees a ghost in every shadow. I admit I can usually feel the energy in a location if there are spirits, but unless I get tangible proof, I won’t say it’s got supernatural issues, no matter what my opinion is.”

Issues. Great way to phrase it
, Sami thought, sending her into a fit of giggles. “Issues? This place doesn’t have issues, it has subscriptions.”

“Actually,” Matt said, “Sami has more to tell you. We’d better sit down.”

Sami didn’t leave anything out this time. She told Julie the whole story, including Steve’s behavior in the hospital.

Julie frowned. “I wish I’d known this before. I would have insisted on getting into that room.”

“I’m sorry. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if the ritual would do anything. Plus you have to understand”—she glanced at Matt—“my husband’s profession draws enough attention to him.”

“Well, what’s done is done. I don’t know the full extent of what we’re dealing with, but if we can get into that room, it will answer some questions and let us get this place cleaned up once and for all. Cleansing the old well would help, too.” She looked wistful. Not only was it George’s semipermanent resting place, it was where her grandaunt’s body was unceremoniously dumped by her great-grandfather.