Dust that had the very clear imprint of something rectangular in it.
“It’s empty now, but it hasn’t been for long.” He cast a chagrined glance at Nigel. “Sorry, sweetheart—it does appear that Ethan took something.”
Nigel looked smug. “I’ll remember this next time we have an argument over who did the dishes last.”
“Hold it out for the camera.” Chris had remained in the hallway, since the room was so crowded.
Oscar pulled the drawer out and carried it to where Chris could aim the camera at it. “It was something rectangular,” he said. “A book, maybe?”
Chris adjusted the focus. “Or a VHS tape. It’s about the right size.”
Gloria had moved the ledger earlier, so it wasn’t impossible she’d taken something out of this drawer, too. Oscar started to point that out, then stopped.
They’d assumed Gloria had taken the ledger, the way she’d moved around the Vanderwalls’ tools. But that was all it was—an assumption.
The high-pitched giggle of the PolterPal sounded from the floor below.
CHAPTER
FORTY
Oscar led the way down to the second floor. The uneasiness he’d felt about moving Robin along by force had grown to outright revulsion. Ethan was definitely up to something—the only question was whether or not he’d been following Montague’s orders.
For now, though, maybe they could at least usher Gloria along. With her hated father out of the house, they might have an easier time of it now.
The darker squares on the walls, including in the bedrooms, lent the house a more sinister cast now that he could picture the paintings that once hung there. On the one hand, Montague was probably right, the decor had been typical of a place where a bunch of straight men congregated away from their wives. But that didn’t make it feel less disturbing. And Ullman had summoned his daughter into this atmosphere…
“That tickles!” the PolterPal squealed from one of the guest bedrooms.
“Um, didn’t we leave it out in the hall?” Chris asked. “You know, to let us know if Gloria was sneaking up on us while we were out on the veranda?”
Nigel swore.
The walkie-talkie at Oscar’s waist squawked with static, before Tina’s voice came over it. “Something just set off the PolterPal.”
He unclipped it and answered, “We heard it. Check the footage of the static cam on the second floor, because it’s moved from where we left it.”
“Damn it, Chris was right about that thing.”
“Vindication,” Chris said, but they didn’t seem happy about it.
A stiff breeze poured through the window of the bedroom where the PolterPal waited. It had fallen silent again; Oscar hoped that didn’t mean Gloria had left when they approached.
“How do you want to do this?” Nigel asked.
“Let’s put the EMF rope in a circle around the room. I’ll sit in front of the PolterPal and use the spirit box to try and communicate. Chris films, and you wait with salt ready to go if she turns violent.”
“And if she doesn’t want to leave?”
“Then we’ll try the Faraday tent.”
Nigel didn’t reply. Oscar understood his uncertainty—it felt as if things had gone badly sidewise tonight. Robin, Ethan, Montague and Lawson…
Oscar settled onto the floor once the EMF rope was in place. He took a deep breath and centered himself, then made sure his wards were firmly in place before speaking. “Gloria? Are you here? We’d like to talk to you.”
A creak came from the hall outside.
The hair on the back of his neck tried to stand up, and he took another calming breath. “Could you come in here? You can talk to us with this box. You did that before, remember?”
