“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.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
“Tonight we’re exploring the third floor,” Oscar told the camera. “And then the seance room, where Seth Ullman supposedly summoned the spirit of his daughter. Is she still trapped in the house with her father? Our results so far suggest the answer is a definite ‘yes.’” He glanced past the lens to Chris. “How was that?”
“Great take.” Chris gave him a thumbs-up.
“Not too over-the-top?”
“Nah, Zeek still has you beat in that department.”
“I heard that,” Tina called from where she sat behind the monitors, making sure all the feeds were up and running.
“And I’m right, aren’t I?”
She grinned. “One hundred percent.”
Zeek had all the energy and personality of a golden retriever puppy, which naturally carried over to Zeeking the Unknown’s videos. His cohost, Adrienne, was more reserved, and the dichotomy plus their natural on-screen chemistry was one of the drivers of their success.
“Aren’t you glad you’re here somewhere classy with us, instead of with him in some old hotel with room service and air conditioning?” Oscar teased.
“Do you really want an answer to that?”
