Suddenly Psychic (Glimmer Lake #1)(76)

“Okay.” Robin grabbed her sketchbook and sat at the table. “Are we ready to try this?”

Monica, Val, and Mark all nodded. They sat around the table. Mark placed the knife on the table; Val had the salt gun. Monica had her holy water, a rosary, and was lighting the white candles in the center of the table. They’d gathered a few pictures of Gordon Russell from the newspaper and found a few lying around the house. They were sitting in the center of the table with the candles.

Robin began to draw. She’d refreshed her memory with the pictures, but she tried to draw more than that. She started out with a rough outline of the hard man she’d known, but that gradually morphed as she filled in the drawing. The eyes were unlined. The hair was dark and parted in a severe style.

A twisting feeling turned in her belly as she sketched. The image on the page became clearer, and she concentrated on the memory of a young girl wandering into the library long past her bedtime.

“You should be in bed, Robin Marie.”

Robin looked up. She blinked. Her memory of the old man in the library overlapped with the image of the man standing near the window.

“You should be in bed.” Gordon Russell’s ghost turned toward her, arms crossed over his chest, a severe frown set between his eyes. “Just what do you think you’re doing in the library?”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Robin said quietly. Her heart raced, and she felt the darkness swallow her voice. She forced the words past her frozen lips. “It’s not the library. I’m not ten anymore. And you’re not supposed to be here, Grandfather Russell.”

He towered over her, glowering. “I think you forget who you’re speaking to, young lady.”

“Robin.” Mark put his hand on her shoulder. “What are you seeing?”

“He’s here.” Something pressed against her chest. He didn’t want her to speak.

Children should be seen and not heard.

“Back to bed, young lady.” The scowl on his face never wavered.

Robin felt like she was a child again, punished for sneaking down to the library past her bedtime to look for the next Narnia book. She didn’t have the books at home, but Grandma Russell had them. She’d even painted a picture of Aslan for Robin’s room.

“Robin?” Mark squeezed her shoulder. “Talk to me.”

“She can see him.” Val was speaking. “Robin, remember what you’re supposed to do.”

Grandfather Russell never wavered, not even for a minute. “Do I need to get your mother?”

No, not her mother. Mom didn’t have any patience for Robin, and she’d do exactly as her father wanted. Robin always knew that. If it was a question of taking Grandfather Russell’s side or Robin’s, her mom would always stand with her grandfather.

“Robin, he’s dead.” Monica’s hand was in hers. “Remember that. He’s dead. He is not here. He cannot hurt you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Grandfather Russell scoffed. “I’m too busy for this nonsense.” He started to walk back to the corner, into the shadows.

“NO.” Robin gripped her pencil in one hand and cleared her eyes. “You are the one who doesn’t belong here.”

Her grandfather turned. “Mind your manners, Robin Marie.”

Robin stood and walked to her grandfather. He wasn’t as tall as she remembered. To a child, the domineering man had seemed like a giant.

“You don’t belong here,” she said again. “You need to leave.”

Gordon lifted his chin defiantly. “This is my house.”

“Not anymore.” The weight on her chest lifted, and the choked feeling left her throat. “This is Helen’s house. You need to go away.”

Robin felt Val and Monica flank her on either side. Mark stood behind her.

“Go away,” Robin repeated. “Leave Helen alone. You are not welcome here.”

The ghost morphed from her memory of an older man to the haughty visage of a young and angry one. “This is my house. I built this house, and every inch of it belongs to me.” The corner of his cruel mouth inched up. “I don’t know what you think you’re going to do, Robin Marie, but it won’t work. I built this house. I built this family. And you’re never going to get rid of me.”





Chapter 28





“Wrong,” Robin said. “You’re dead. You aren’t welcome here.” She stepped closer, Val and Monica on either side, herding the ghost toward the open window. “Leave, Gordon Russell. You are not welcome here.”

He sneered. “This is my home.” The handsome visage turned ugly and angry. “My home! I built it!”

“You built it from the blood of an innocent man and the life of a woman you didn’t deserve.” Robin blinked a tear from her eye. “You stalked Helen Moore. You murdered the man she loved. You lied to her and you tormented her son.”

He lifted his chin. “This is my home. I’ll never leave.”

Be firm, Lily had said. Remind them that they’re dead. They don’t belong with the living. Be firm.

“Go away.” Robin spoke forcefully and took another step forward. “You are dead. You are not welcome here. Leave Helen alone.”