The Spite House(55)

When the voice announced, “Back Patio One, Door Open,” it cut clean through her sleep. Eunice woke with her heart pumping. Surely no one had broken in. That would be absurd.

Or would it be? A parade of strangers had come through her house for job interviews and she turned down all but one of them. Someone from one of those little “ghost hunter” groups might have taken the rejection poorly, come here to get payback.

She opened her phone and checked the security app. Right away it showed her the live feed from the camera where there was movement. It was outside by Oscar’s pond, named for her cousin. There was a small figure standing in the gazebo in the center of water just deep enough for an adult to drown in, if they couldn’t swim.

For a second, her mind still cloudy with sleep, Eunice thought she was watching Oscar’s ghost relive his final moments. Then she realized who the figure really was. The little girl. Stacy.

Eunice threw on her robe and house shoes. She thought she heard movement from Lafonda’s room but did not wait for her. She left her room, hustled down the stairs and out the same door Stacy had used.

She appeared to be leaning out over the pond when Eunice saw her, though she was still far away enough that she couldn’t be sure. “Stacy! Stacy, dear, stay where you are!”

When Stacy turned to her, Eunice could still not quite make out her features and a horrible thought pinned her in place like a dead bug in a display case. It’s a trick. A trap. They’ve outsmarted you. That girl is just bait to lure you out and now they’re going to get you. After all this time, you let your guard down and this is it.

It was the cooler outdoor temperature combined with her inability to make out the girl’s face that brought her to this grim, false conclusion. The certitude of her impending death fell on her like an avalanche. She wanted to swing her fists and claw her fingernails at the invisible avengers who would swarm her, but soon realized that the chill spared her bones, much less the deeper parts of her being that would absorb the subzero radiation of the dead. This was just natural, autumn air. The product of the season and the night. It wasn’t related to what she had feared since Val died, and feared even more after Oscar died.

Can’t risk it, Eunice thought. What if you’re wrong? They’ll have you.

Stilled by fear, she glanced at her watch to check her pulse, see if it was irregular. It was slightly elevated, nothing alarming, though. No indication of a looming heart attack. Beneath the numbers, something else caught her eye in the glare of her back patio lights. Her company’s name etched into the watch’s face. ValTuf. She could almost feel her aunt Val’s hand on her shoulder again. It felt protective. Even empowering. Facing down the unimaginable, Val still tried to shield Eunice from harm.

Eunice wasn’t that brave, but she could match that defiance. She’d spent her life eluding death and destiny. Avoiding risks to her health, as well, but not at the expense of her ultimate goal. If she let fear get the best of her now, all her patience and persistence might go to waste. There was a perfect tenant in the spite house, at last, but if Stacy got hurt on her watch, Eunice wouldn’t be able to convince Eric to stay. She knew the chill in the air wasn’t the ghosts. She knew it. The only thing keeping her from going for the girl was cowardice. She couldn’t let that be what condemned her.

She walked toward the gazebo. “I’ll be right there,” Eunice said. “Don’t move.”

But by the time Eunice crossed the bridge Stacy had moved away from the open space and into the center of the gazebo. The little girl’s eyes shimmered with worry.

“I’m sorry,” she said as Eunice came toward her. “I know I shouldn’t be here, but they told me to.”

“It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re not hurt,” Eunice said, crouching and hugging her just to reassure herself that Stacy was a real, physical thing. Not a spirit in disguise. Then it hit her what the girl had said. They told me to. She pulled back and stared at her for seconds that spread like a bloodstain on cloth.

“Are you going to tell my dad?” Stacy said.

“Who are ‘they’?” Eunice said, unable to keep all of the sharpness from her tone. “You said ‘they’ told you to come here? Who?”

The girl drew a deep breath, as though bracing herself to be disbelieved. “I heard people in the house. I went to the bathroom and they started talking to me. I was scared. I was going back to tell my sister, but they asked me to help them. They said they were sorry for scaring me. I didn’t say anything back because I don’t talk to strangers. But then they said I should come down here to the water to see if I could remember. I don’t know why I listened. I just felt like I had to.” Tears came to her eyes. “Am I in trouble? Are you going to tell my dad?”

Eunice took a moment to work up a smile and sweeten her voice. “No, no, dear.” She heard Lafonda’s feet crunching up the pathway behind her, so she spoke loud enough for Lafonda to hear how she wanted the situation handled. “We won’t even tell your sister, just in case she might tell your father. You’re not in trouble. I saw you out here and I got scared for you. I know this pond isn’t very wide, but the water is deeper than it looks. It wouldn’t be good if you got in.”

“I didn’t want to get in. I just wanted to remember.”

Eunice looked back at Lafonda, who stood on the bridge. Lafonda mouthed, “Is she okay?,” and Eunice nodded, though she knew her eyes said otherwise.