The Fourth Power Page 9

  The corner of a poster had detached from the wall and curled forward to cover part of a football player. Toys sat on the floor where they’d been dropped to rest—a football, an action figure, and a slingshot. Everything was as her son left it.

  Heather reached for the light switch, surprised when the light bulb turned on after being dormant for so long. Life had stopped in the room, and time had settled over it in a thin veil. Under the light, the layer of dust became obvious, having settled like desert sand swallowing an ancient city. Even the air had lost all smells, save the stale musk of a mausoleum. The grief first tickled her nose, burning as tears entered her eyes. She didn’t let them fall but held them as suspended as the shrine before her.

  Memories echoed through her mind. They came in a jumbled mess—laughter, tears, shouts of play, words of anger, threats of running away that were hardly meant and never acted upon. The floor and walls radiated with pain as the room waited for someone who would never return. It pulsed through the air, forming an invisible barrier over the door. It prickled her hand when she reached for the switch to shut off the light.

  Heather closed the door, letting it latch before laying her hand against the wood. She wasn’t sure why today was the day she’d decided to peek inside. A heavy weight settled on her shoulders, and a dull ache centered over her chest.

  The tips of her fingers pulsed from being pressed down. There was no need to whisper all the things she felt.

  I love you.

  I miss you.

  I’m sorry.

  I wish it were me instead of you.

  I’m so tired.

  I miss you so much, sweet boy.

  Heather dropped her hands and walked away. It would be too easy to fall to the floor and sit by the door all day. She’d done it before, and it was difficult to lift herself back up when she succumbed to that depression.

  Her cellphone was on the living room floor. She picked it up on her way toward the front door. A low battery warning appeared on the screen, and when she cleared it, she had a notification for eighty-seven missed calls.

  “Seriously?” Heather shook her head. Some pranksters had way too much time on their hands.

  The screen went black as it ran out of power.

  Heather grabbed her notepad and keys off the end table on her way out the door. Even after she’d managed to fall back to sleep, she kept waking up, thinking she heard the phone ringing. The sound had invaded her dreams. It seemed she’d been starting a lot of her days under a veil of exhaustion lately.

  Task by task, that is how she was going to live her day. She had her list of things that needed to be done, and she would add items to it, line by line until this notepad was full, and then she would get another and start filling that one up. It might sound stupid to some, but this habit was what kept her moving forward during her roughest of days. It motivated her to get out of bed and gave her direction when she didn’t know what to do.

  Unfortunately, this was one of those days that included waiting in line to renew her vehicle registration, a dental cleaning, and a surprise inspection at the home of one of her least favorite renters because the city had sent her a notice of car parts in the front yard. The renter on the original agreement was a meek woman, but she’d let her three grown sons move in with her after about three months living in the house. Since then, Heather received city complaints about every other month. How could she convince a mother to kick out her sons? Heather didn’t have it in her to try.

  What she wouldn’t give to demolish a wall with a sledgehammer instead.

  Heather connected her phone to the car charger. For some reason, she found herself not following her list as she drove toward Anderson House. She parked along the curb as work trucks were already in the drive.

  In the light of morning, the house didn’t look like anything to fear. The timeworn structure stood tall and proud against the sky, its outline cutting the blue and white. The lawn needed Bobby’s attention desperately. The uneven grass and overgrown hedges, combined with the old paint on the siding, made the property look sad and neglected. No wonder everyone thought it was haunted.

  Turns out, for once, when it came to ghosts, everyone else had been right, and she had been wrong.

  So many spirits.

  How could she have missed them?

  Heather got out of the car and slowly walked up the front steps. She heard the faint sound of work coming from inside underscored by classic rock music.

  A feeling of apprehension came over her. She was used to the prickling feeling of a ghost nearby, but this was different. For the first time in her life, she didn’t trust her abilities as a medium. Even now there could be an army of spirits around her, and she wouldn’t know it. Like the other times she’d come to the house, she didn’t feel an otherworldly presence.

  There was another option. The ghosts could have followed Jan like they followed Heather around, though Heather should still be able to sense them around the girl.

  She looked for Martin’s truck but didn’t see it. Heather could hardly blame the man if he decided to cancel the job. As a boss, she hoped not. He was damned good at his job. As a woman…well, damn Vivien and Lorna again for putting those thoughts into her head.

  Maybe she should call him.

  Maybe she should check on Jan.

  Maybe she should mind her own damned business. If they wanted her help, they’d ask for it. How would she have felt if someone tried to interfere with her parenting decisions?

  Walking into the home was more to prove to herself she wasn’t scared than any real need to check on the job site. As she arrived on the second story, her gaze instantly went to the floor and then around the landing. They had summoned so many ghosts, and not all of them had left this plane of existence. Music came from upstairs.

  Heather went up to the third story. Thomas had finished mudding the drywall. Dark spots along the seams told her it was still drying. He laid on his back on the floor, staring up at the ceiling while he sang softly with the radio.

  “Break time?” Heather asked, startling him as he scrambled to sit up.

  “Oh, hey.” Thomas glanced guiltily around as if making sure he didn’t leave anything unfinished. “Yeah, the guys are picking up more supplies.”

  “This wall looks great. You can’t even tell there was water damage,” Heather said, running her hand beneath a window. “Any issues with the house today I should know about?”

  “Issues?” Thomas repeated. “Like what?”

  “Plumbing noises, flickering lights, drafts,” she bit the inside of her lip, trying to sound nonchalant, “ghosts?”

  Thomas laughed, not taking her seriously. “I haven’t seen any floating sheets or heard rattling chains, so I think we’re good there.”

  Of course his image of a ghost came from an old cartoon.

  “Martin mentioned that he’d be turning off the main power some time this week to install a new circuit breaker box,” Thomas said.

  “Have you heard from Martin today?” Heather asked, wondering if she needed to find a new electrician to take over. She wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted to talk to her again after she butted in with his daughter.

  Thomas shook his head in denial. “Not this morning. Probably had to pick up some wire. I’m sure he’ll be in.”

  Heather went to look at the progress made in the third story rooms. The new bathroom was ready for finish work. Before there had not been water on the third floor.

  “You know,” Thomas said when she came back. “I had a great idea. While Martin’s rewiring, we could install a home stereo system before the city officially makes this a historical landmark. Then it will be too late to change. You’d hardly notice the speakers in the ceiling.”

  “Have I ever said yes to that idea?” she asked. “And before you suggest it, I don’t want a smart house, central vacuum, or a saltwater fish tank wall. The more techie stuff you put into a place, the more that can go wrong. The goal is to keep it simple.”


  “Your loss.” Thomas pushed himself to his feet.

  “What do you mean multiple problems?” Martin’s voice came from below.

  Heather checked the stairwell.

  “So you’re telling me someone tampered with my battery cables, and a fuse, and cut wires?” Martin sounded frustrated. She couldn’t hear the answer, and it became clear he spoke on the phone. “No, I didn’t file a police report.”

  She watched as his legs paced past the open stairwell.

  “No, I didn’t piss off a girlfriend,” he stated.

  His legs came back, and he stopped where she could see them.

  “No, I didn’t piss off anyone,” Martin insisted.

  “Dude, that’s rough,” Thomas said under his breath behind her as he eavesdropped as well.

  “And your mechanic thinks they put antifreeze in the gas tank,” Martin said before muttering, “Sure, why not?”

  Heather heard him sigh in frustration as his weight shifted.

  “Yes. Please call me when you have the estimate. Thanks.” Martin’s phone hand dropped by his thigh.

  She instantly took a step back so he wouldn’t catch her hovering.

  Martin came up the stairs.

  “Man, what the hell happened to your truck?” Thomas asked.

  “I don’t know. Teenagers were messing around, probably.” Martin didn’t sound convinced. “It wouldn’t start this morning. When I tested the battery, it said it had a charge.”

  “Are you going to report it?” Thomas asked.

  Martin’s eyes met Heather’s as he realized she was standing there. “Uh, probably, later, not much they can do, and my crap insurance probably won’t cover it.”

  Heather watched Martin, not saying anything.

  “Let me know if you need rides,” Thomas said.

  “Thanks,” Martin answered. To Heather, he said, “Can I talk to you a minute?”

  “Of course.” Heather watched him expectantly.

  He gestured that she join him in the other room.

  “I’m going for coffee,” Thomas announced. “I’ll bring you some. Sounds like you could use a triple shot today.”

  “Thanks,” Martin called after him. When they heard his steps descending, he said, “I wanted to make sure you were still all right with Jan being here. I told her to wait downstairs on the steps for me. I saw your car out front and wanted to check first.”

  Heather had not been expecting that question. “Yeah, of course. Nothing’s changed.”

  “I wouldn’t say that’s entirely true.” Martin crossed his arms before dropping them to his sides. He appeared uncomfortable as he shifted his weight. “I know you were trying to be kind to us, and I wanted to thank you for that.”

  “Okay…?” Heather tilted her head as she thought of his words. Was he glossing over what happened? “I mean, yes, I was trying to be kind, but I also want to help Jan.”

  “Thank you,” Martin said. He pulled a hair tie from his pocket. He shifted again, running his hands through his hair before pulling it back. “This thing with my truck won’t affect my work, but I might have to borrow Thomas to pick up some supplies later.”

  “You don’t think it was teenagers, do you?” Heather heard the sound of a truck engine and became aware of how alone they were with Thomas gone. There would be more workers downstairs, somewhere, but they had no reason to venture up to the third floor.

  “No, I don’t.” Martin went to where he’d cut an access hole into the wall and ran his finger along the edge, gently pulling at the opening as if to test it. “I know January’s different from other kids and can be very convincing. Ever since I can remember, she’s always known things she shouldn’t—like words she shouldn’t know and how to do things.”

  “You think your ten-year-old daughter disabled your truck?” Heather asked.

  “I’m pretty sure she did,” Martin answered. “The doctor told me she was an observant child and probably picked up things in passing conversations or on television. He told me to limit her watching and monitor her reading.”

  “What kinds of things?” Heather asked.

  “She’d talk about needing my toothbrush to clean her pretend Civil War relics so not to damage the patina,” Martin said.

  “Sounds like something that might be mentioned in a war documentary,” Heather said.

  “She was four. I’m pretty sure Civil War archeology wasn’t covered on Saturday morning cartoons. What four-year-old says words like patina? Or Kafkaesque? Or T-square configuration? Or that’s bloody brilliant?” He stopped pulling at the wall. “She baked a cake when she was five, from scratch. I had to keep the oven unplugged after that. A year later, she repaired an old radio with parts from the toaster, then repaired the toaster with parts from the coffee maker. I’ve lived through science experiments and hunger strikes and her correcting her teachers to the point they kept sending her to the principal’s office so they wouldn’t have to deal with her.”

  Heather knew instantly what had probably happened. “That’s because she’s getting answers from ghosts.”

  Martin frowned at her.

  “I meant what I said last night to your daughter. I don’t expect you to take my word for it and believe me, but you should believe her,” Heather said. “You should believe what you, yourself, have said you’ve witnessed. How else would a five-year-old know how to combine ingredients the right way if she’d never been shown? Or how radios work? Someone must have taught her, someone who knew how to do those things. I know because they used to teach me how to do things, too. I think they liked having a kid who could see them and who they could impart knowledge on, or, yes, convince to get into trouble like some imaginary friend from hell—not literal hell, but you know what I mean. When I was seven, I had the spirit of a frat boy telling me to put plastic wrap around the toilet beneath the seat. The prank didn’t end well for me, but he thought it was hilarious.”

  “There has to be another logical explanation,” Martin insisted.

  “Sure.” Heather threw up her hands, and said sarcastically, “Your daughter is insane. I’m insane. Vivien and Lorna and my brother are insane. My grandmother was insane. Ghosts aren’t real because that would be too hard to accept, and spirits are scary.”

  “You’re mad.” Martin softened his voice.

  “No, I’m irritated, and hurt, and tired, and my stupid phone kept me up all night.” She rubbed the back of her neck and closed her eyes. “And I’m worried about your daughter because she doesn’t have anyone to help her understand that what she is going through is real and that there are ways she can learn to control it.”

  “You’re asking me to believe in ghosts,” Martin stated.

  “Yes. I’m asking you to believe without proof, without seeing…” She let her voice trail off as an idea struck her. “No.”

  “No, you’re not trying to get me to believe in ghosts?”

  “No, I mean, I think we can show you proof,” Heather said. “It worked with my brother. He used to think we were all crazy too, but then he saw for himself.”

  “How?” Martin didn’t seem sure.

  “I want you to join my friends and me for a séance,” Heather said. “Tonight. At Warrick Theater. It’ll be perfect. We have nothing on the schedule for tonight, so it will be empty.”

  Martin made a strange noise and shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “I don’t think you can say no,” Heather countered. “If there is a chance you can learn the truth about your daughter, don’t you have to take it?”

  He again shook his head in denial. “I—”

  “If nothing happens, what harm is there?” she asked. “You’ll be able to tell the story of how the strange lady who hired you to rewire a house convinced you to play séance one night. I’m sure your friends will find it amusing.”

  “I would never make fun of you to my friends,” he said.

  “Just say you’ll join us tonight. What do you have t
o lose?”

  “Besides my sanity?” He took a deep breath and held it. “Nothing, I guess. Sure, fine, but I don’t want Jan involved with this.”

  Heather refrained from pointing out that his daughter was already highly involved. “My brother William is great with kids. He can take her for pizza and let her play the arcade games there. He’ll have a cellphone if you want to check in with him.”

  “I…” He rubbed his temples before finishing. “I should get to work.”

  “I’ll call my friends and set everything up.” Heather knew she was being pushy, but she truly believed it was for the best. “I’ll text you with the details.”

  Martin nodded. “Would you mind sending Jan up on your way out so I can keep an eye on her?”

  Heather agreed as she left him alone. Already she knew Lorna and Vivien would say yes to her plan to help Jan. Vivien would claim this counted as Heather and Martin’s first date, so she’d be extra eager to make sure things went well.

  As Heather neared the first floor, she saw Jan sitting on the steps with a book. “Hey, there, good to see you again.”

  Jan glanced up at her but didn’t stand. “I’m not supposed to talk to anyone.”

  “I understand,” Heather said. “Your dad asked that I send you up to join him.”

  Jan stood and made a move to do just that.

  “Wait, Jan, can I ask?” Heather looked around them for spirits. “Do you see any ghosts around us right now?”

  Jan shook her head in denial. “You scared them last night when you sent some of them away. They don’t want to come here anymore.”

  Jan ran up the stairs, her feet pounding loudly.

  Chapter Ten

  Warrick Theater

  “Heather, seriously, what do I know about preteen girls?” William whispered as he grabbed his sister’s arm. He kept her from joining Lorna and Vivien in the auditorium where they were setting up for the night’s séance. He walked with her toward the concession and grabbed a box of candy out of the display. “I should be here with you where I can help.”