The Haunted

More annoyed now than scared, Julian closed the curtains again and decided to go back to bed. He should have been too terrified to sleep, but staring at Lynch’s ghost had given him courage. The breach across which they’d regarded each other seemed uncrossable, and he was pretty sure that the ghost was stuck in the garage and could not come into the house. The idea gave him comfort, and while it might not signal an end to their problems, it was at least a step in the right direction.

Climbing into bed, Julian put his head down on the pillow and pulled the top sheet over himself. He fell asleep almost instantly.

He did not dream.

He was awakened in the morning by the sound of a siren. It was loud, close, and then it abruptly shut off, and Julian went into the living room and peeked out the window to see a fire truck parked in the street, halfway in front of his house. In the Ribieros’ driveway, next door, was an ambulance with its back doors open, and red and blue roof lights still flashing.

Julian hurried back to the bedroom, slipped on some jeans and a Hawaiian shirt, quickly put on his tennis shoes, then walked outside just as two paramedics wheeled a gurney out of the Ribieros’ house and into the back of the ambulance. He couldn’t tell from this angle whether Bob or Elise was on the gurney, but he got his answer moments later when Bob emerged from the house with another paramedic who was jotting something down on a clipboard.

Julian didn’t want to intrude, so he stayed where he was, watching from the sidelines.

The surprising thing was that he was the only person from the neighborhood out here. Glancing around, he didn’t even see anyone peeking through their windows or out from behind a parted curtain. His neighbors, apparently, had no interest in what happened on their street, and he remembered how no one had come out to see what was going on when the police arrived to arrest John Lynch.

The ambulance left, siren off, which was hopefully a good sign, and the remaining firemen and paramedics put on their helmets and got onto the fire engine. Bob Ribiero locked up his house, saw Julian, glared at him, then got into his car and followed the ambulance down the street.

What was that about?

Frowning, Julian walked out to the sidewalk just as the fire engine pulled away. He’d wanted to ask one of the men what had happened, but he missed the chance by a few seconds and ended up watching the fire truck leave.

Once again, he looked around at the neighborhood houses and, this time, across the street, he saw Spencer Allred standing on his front porch. Finally, someone. Julian waved, walking over. At the sight of him, the old man looked as though he wanted to go back inside his house and hide, but he didn’t; he waited, and Julian walked up to the porch, stopping at the bottom step. He gestured toward the Ribieros’ place. “That was Elise,” he said. “I wonder what happened. Heart attack?”

“Your house,” Spencer replied.

Julian looked at him, startled. “What?”

“Your house happened to her.”

Julian didn’t know how to respond to that.

Spencer sighed. “It’s not your fault. It might not even be your house, exactly. This whole street is … off. But your house is at the center of it, and the Ribieros live right next door.” He thought for a moment, as though not sure whether he should say what he wanted to say. “You know, the reason some of us, a lot of us came to your party, your housewarming party, was because we wanted to see the inside of it for ourselves. And when it … when it ended the way it did … Well, let’s just say that most of us weren’t that surprised.”

Julian felt a thrill of excitement. “So you know something!”

The old man shook his head, backed away. “I don’t know anything.”

“You weren’t surprised? Why not? You do know something.” Julian moved up a step. “What’s going on here? What’s wrong with our house?”

Spencer reached the door. “I don’t know, and I don’t want to know. Forty years I lived here, minding my own business. That’s the only way to survive: don’t get involved.” He pulled open the screen door, stepping inside. “Now go home. Get away from here.”

“Spencer?” his wife called from inside the house.

“Coming!” he answered.

He closed the door.

Julian turned around. From this vantage point, there seemed nothing wrong with his house. Or the garage. But he knew better, and Spencer Allred did, too. Probably most of the homeowners on this street did, and as he walked back home, he wondered whether the ambulance siren had been off because Elise Ribiero was already dead.

Twenty-eight

Megan awoke in the morning refreshed. She was used to feeling tense and stressed when she emerged from sleep, and this was such a pleasant change that she lay there for a few extra moments, staring up at the bands of light formed on the ceiling by the sun shining through slats in the shades, enjoying the sensation of freedom.

Freedom from the house.