The Haunted

That was the truth. He wanted to ascribe malevolence to the building, wanted to see a face in the arrangement of windows and door. But those things weren’t there. The truth was not that simple. The house was haunted, but it wasn’t alive. Whatever evil resided in this place, it lived in his home; it was not his home.

And it had control over the backyard.

“See you later!” Robbie’s dad called out.

“Thanks for coming over!” his mom said.

James waved at them as the car pulled away. Robbie, he noticed, hadn’t said anything. He, too, had been looking at the house.

James started slowly across the lawn, walking toward the front door, feeling like a man stepping up to the gallows, a fearful heaviness settling over him the closer he got to the building. Summer was nearing its end, but though it was after five, the day was still bright, the sun still fairly high in the sky. So there was no reason for the lights in the house to be on. But the fact that they weren’t made him feel anxious, and he took a deep breath before opening the front door. Would he find his sister lying on the floor of the living room in a pool of blood? Would his parents be locked in the basement, begging to be released? He didn’t know, but he pushed open the door, prepared for anything.

And saw Megan and his dad on the couch, she reading a magazine, he watching the news.

His mom was in the kitchen, where a light was on, and she’d obviously heard the door open, because she stepped into the kitchen doorway and looked at him from across the dining room, across the living room. “Why are you so late?” she wanted to know. “Did something happen?”

“No,” he said, and exhaled the breath he’d been holding.

“Is something wrong?”

He smiled at her, not a strong smile but a real one. “No, Mom. Everything’s okay.”

Eighteen

Oscar Cortinez wanted to sue the school district.

He was a longtime history teacher at the high school, and his contract had not been renewed for the coming school year. The district claimed it was for purely financial reasons—across-the-board budget cuts had been made throughout the district—but Oscar contended that it was the fact that he’d taught “the truth” about local history that had cost him his job. He’d gotten in hot water before for teaching off-curriculum material, but had successfully defended himself by pointing out that he had covered the required subject in the required way and had simply taught his students additional facts that inconveniently conflicted with the conventional narrative. The principal at his school had not liked that, and neither had the suits at the district office, and he and his union rep had had several more meetings with various administrators over the past few years.

He needed more than a union rep this time, though, and that was why he’d enlisted Claire.

It was easily the biggest and best case she’d had since leaving Los Angeles, and Claire was grateful that it had fallen into her lap at this time. Ever since the party, she’d been completely obsessed with monitoring everything that happened in or around their house. Every. Single. Thing. Scrutinizing the children for any unusual behavior, jumping at every stray noise, mentally cataloging the slightest shifts in the shafts of sunlight that streamed through their windows. Julian said she needed to back off and calm down or she’d go crazy, and she agreed, so it was good to have something else to focus her attention on, good to be able to direct more of her attention toward work.

Besides, if this case had a big payday—not an unreasonable expectation—they might be able to get out of the house and find someplace else to live.

The thought fueled her.

They met in her office for a consultation that lasted most of the day. Oscar explained that he believed he had been singled out and let go solely because of the subject matter he taught, a blatant infringement on his academic freedom. He’d been a model instructor until he started teaching an enhanced version of the standard syllabus, but after that he had become a pariah in the district, although his work had been recognized and rewarded by interested outside parties. He had documentation to back this up: a series of e-mails and memos covering the controversy, a stack of glowing evaluations from a period of fifteen straight years that suddenly grew harsh and critical when the current principal came on board four years ago, commendations from various teaching organizations and historical societies. His complaints seemed legitimate, and when he pointed out that no other history teachers in the district had been let go and that two of them had less seniority than he did, she told him that she thought he had a case.