Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“So what did you think about the tape, Taylor?” Dr. Lawson asked Nigel when he joined her under the shade.
Tina had gone for her nap, and Oscar and Chris were tending to the equipment.
Where Montague and Ethan were, he didn’t know.
Napping as well, maybe. “You watched the first interview with the Vanderwalls, yes?”
“Yes.” He took the empty chair beside her. There was now a cooler on the ground in front of the table; he opened it to find mineral water and wine. Dr. Lawson was availing herself of the latter, but he thought the former might be a better bet in the humid heat.
Still, he certainly wasn’t about to suggest that to her.
He took a long drink of cold water before finding a comfortable position in the chair.
The sun sparkled blindingly off the ocean, and the waves sighed gently against the sand.
He kept expecting gulls to swoop down, but they still kept clear of the island, though he could see them as white specks against the sky farther out to sea.
“As for what I thought…I don’t know yet. So far it seems Gloria was the spirit of a mischievous child, and Ullman the one trying to scare the family. But I don’t want to jump to conclusions.”
Dr. Lawson finished off her wine and poured some more.
“I honestly don’t know, even after all these years.
I thought the same as you—we all did at the start.
She didn’t seem dangerous, just playful.
Then one day it was like a switch flipped.
Robin said she was sensing anger in the ghost, and the haunting got more violent.
Almost as though Gloria had turned on us. ”
“Did she realize you meant to usher her to the other side? End her playtime in this world?”
“I don’t know.” Dr. Lawson rubbed at her forehead. “Remember how long ago this all was. You weren’t even born yet the last time Patricia and I were here.”
And it wouldn’t be emotionally easy for her to recall the events of the first investigation, either. “I’m sorry.”
She stared off at the waves. “Robin was acting off the last few days…or that’s how I recall it. Memory plays funny tricks, though. Was she really as off as I think, or are…later events…clouding my recollection?”
He only nodded in silent agreement, which seemed to be enough. After they both had a few sips of their drinks, she added, “Rely on the tapes, instead of on what Patricia and I think we remember.”
“I will.” There was a question she might be able to answer for sure. “Do you know where the Vanderwalls used the Ouija board to talk to Gloria?”
“The same tower room where Ullman summoned his daughter. Where Robin was…was pushed.” She gulped down the contents of her glass. “Robin said there was a sort of energy in the space…don’t tell Fox that, in case it’s changed.”
“I won’t.”
“Anyway, her theory was they were drawn to it because of the feel of the place. Like there was some kind of residual energy from the earlier seances that made it seem right.” She looked at her empty glass as though surprised not to find any wine in it.
“Or it was just a cool room away from the rest of the house, where they didn’t have to worry about waking up their kid. ”
Looking at the wineglass, he felt compelled to say, “Have you had any water recently?”
“You aren’t my mother, Taylor.” She pointed a finger at him…then sighed. “But you’re right, I haven’t hydrated enough. I’m going to take a bottle and go inside. Take a nap myself.”
“Good idea.”
She grabbed some mineral water and retreated to the trailer, a bit unsteady on her feet. When the door closed behind her, Nigel turned his attention back to the ocean. The blue waves, the dancing sun…
But his gaze was inevitably pulled away by the looming hulk of the mansion. The weathered siding, the dark slate roof. His eyes followed the line of the roof, fetched up against the tower, then traced it to the rusted gallery just below the cupola.
A small figure stood there, staring back at him.
He started up out of his chair—but the figure was gone.
If it had ever been there to begin with. He took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and put them back on. The gallery deck remained empty, brilliant sunlight pouring down onto it.
Ghosts didn’t manifest in full daylight like this, with not even a cloud to blunt the disrupting rays of the sun. It must have been the light glinting off the glass of the cupola, combined with the brain’s tendency to see human faces and shapes in meaningless patterns. Pareidolia.
Careful to keep his eyes on the sandy ground, he headed back to the house.