The Loveliest Dead (23 page)

When Jenna went in to see him, her knees wobbled with relief when David gave her a groggy smile. But the aftereffects of the anesthesia and the morphine drip made conversation difficult, so she let him sleep. His left hand and forearm lay across his belly, bandaged and in a blue fiberglass cast.
 

She used the telephone on David’s bedstand to call home. She updated Martha on David’s condition and talked to Miles for a few minutes to reassure him that everything was okay. She was hanging up the phone when a uniformed police officer walked in, a pudgy man about Jenna’s age, bald except for short dark hair around the sides and back, and a tuft just above his forehead.
 

“Are you Jenna Kellar?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I’m Officer Tom Mayhew of the Eureka Police Department. Could I speak with you a moment, please? Maybe you’d prefer to step outside with me?”
 

“Okay.” They went out into the corridor. “Is there something wrong?”

“Dwayne Shattuck says he was, uh ... well, he says he was beaten up by a-yuh... a spirit. A ghost. In your house.”

“I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. He and I were the only two in the room, and
I
certainly didn’t do that to him. Did he call you?”
 

“No, the hospital notified us that someone had been beaten up and—”

“Well, I saw it happen. Look, I didn’t believe in this stuff either, okay? But lately... well, I’ve had to take a good hard look at what I believe. It’s nothing new to him, though. He’s a medium.”
 

Officer Mayhew nodded, frowning. “Yeah, that’s what he said. He was pounded pretty hard. I’m just not sure how to write this one up.”
 

“Maybe you shouldn’t. No one’s complaining, no charges are being pressed.”

“The hospital was required by law to make the call, and I answered it. I’ve got to write something up. Besides, nobody’ll believe me if I don’t. Would you mind telling me what happened, Mrs. Kellar?” he said, taking a small notebook from his pocket. “I’d like to see if your story matches Mr. Shattuck’s.”
 

Leaving out the child in the entryway—Jenna preferred not to think about that yet—she told him what had happened in the living room.
 

“Does this sort of thing happen in your house a lot?” he asked. “Is this part of an investigation?”

He smiled. “No, I’m just curious.”

“We’ve had some ... unusual things happen in the house lately, yes.”

“And your address is...” He looked down at the open notepad. “... 2204 Starfish Drive.”

“That’s right. But why is that necessary?”

“It’s just for the record.”

“Okay,” Jenna said, but she frowned.

“By the way, Mr. Shattuck’s pretty anxious to talk to you. He wanted me to ask you to go see him in ER as soon as you could. He’s still there. They’ve got him bandaged up, but there’s some kind of insurance holdup.”
 

“Thank you for the message.”

“I hope your husband gets better soon.”

She nodded, smiled, and Officer Mayhew turned and walked away.

David was asleep, and Jenna decided to see what Dwayne Shattuck had to say. She felt guilty about his injuries—and at the same time, she was worried about them, wondering if Dwayne was litigious.
 

He was sitting in the ER waiting room, paging through an issue of
Field & Stream
. Jenna sat down in the chair beside him.
 

Dwayne had a couple stitches above his right eye and in his lower lip. His face was bruised and lumpy, his nose and eye swollen.

“How are you?” she asked.

“Late with a load, that’s all I know,” he said. “I’m more worried about you and your family.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that, and I appreciate it, but I told you, I’d rather not—”

“Yeah, I know, but that don’t change the fact that you’re livin’ with somethin’ bad. You’d better keep a close eye on your boy.”
 

Jenna felt as if her lungs had been splashed with ice water. “What?”

“Your son. I don’t know what you’ve got in that house, but I wouldn’t let it near my kid if I were you.”

“You ... Wait, do you think it would hurt Miles?”

“You’re not hearing me, are you? I’ve never felt anything like that before—it was scary. I’m tellin’ you, you’re in danger as long as you’re livin’ with that thing.”
 

“But I told you, we have nowhere to go. And now that David’s been hurt—there’s just no way we could leave.”

“Then maybe Ada can help you find someone who can get rid of that thing. But it’ll have to be somebody who knows what he’s doin’, ‘cause that thing’s not leavin’ without a fight.”
 

“What
is
it?”

“I don’t know. I only know it’s about as hostile as a nest of hornets.”

“You said it’s been there awhile.”

“That’s the feeling I got. That and ... something twisted.” He shook his head slowly. “It’s a sick thing, whatever it is. I don’t like usin’ the word ‘evil.’ It’s been tossed around too much for too long, and now it doesn’t mean so much anymore. But it sure comes to mind here.”
 

“You said it doesn’t like to be disturbed. Well, like I told you before, we just won’t disturb it.”

“No, you don’t understand. Somethin’s already disturbed it. It’s ... I don’t know, it’s like it’s got somethin’ on its mind.”

“What should I do?”

Dwayne shrugged, then winced slightly and massaged his neck with his left hand. “I wouldn’t mess around with Ouija boards or have any more sittings in there. Not until you’ve got somebody who’s ready to deal with that thing. You’re liable to just piss it off, pardon my French. I’ll talk to Ada about it and have her call you.”
 

“Would you do that?”

“Sure. I wish I could do more.”

Jenna was too confused and frightened to continue the conversation. She stood and said, “Is there anything I can do for you? I feel so bad about all this.”
 

“Please don’t, Mrs. Kellar. This kinda thing happens, it’s always a possibility. Tell you the truth, this is the main reason I retired. This one’s the worst so far, though, I gotta admit. That’s because it wasn’t a poltergeist, it’s somethin’ else. But I knew what I was gettin’ into when I agreed to try to clean your house. When you deal with the other side, you just never know what’s gonna happen.”
 

A woman at the billing window called Dwayne’s name. He got up slowly and limped over to the window. He exchanged a few quiet words with the woman, signed a paper, and came away with a copy of his own, which he folded up and slipped into his, pocket.
 

“I’ll drive you back to your truck,” Jenna said.

“I’d appreciate that.”

They said little during the drive. As he got out of the car at the truck stop, Jenna said, “You’re not going to get behind the wheel, are you?”
 

“Not until tomorrow. I made a couple calls at the hospital. I’m gonna spend the night here.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can—”

Dwayne laughed. “You’ve done enough. And don’t you worry, I’m not gonna sue you. Take care of your family, now, ‘specially your little boy.” He closed the door.
 

Jenna brought home chicken in a bucket for dinner. In spite of her reassurances on the phone, Miles looked deeply worried. She explained to him exactly what had happened and assured him that Dad would be home tomorrow.
 

“But he’ll be groggy for a while,” she said, “because he’ll be taking painkillers. So you’ll have to be the man of the house for me, okay?”
 

“Okay. Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

Jenna laughed, but it was a tense laugh. Miles’s request reminded her of the fat man he claimed to have seen in his bedroom. Jenna wondered if it was connected to the thing Dwayne claimed was sharing the house with them. “We’ll see,” she said.
 

After dinner, Jenna did the dishes by hand because she wanted time to think. Her mother had not asked about Dwayne or what had happened that afternoon, although she had cleaned the shattered glass animals off the mantel and the blood from the carpet. But she would bring it up eventually, when they were alone and Miles was out of earshot. Jenna had no idea what she would tell her. She could not imagine Martha keeping a straight face while listening to Jenna’s story.
 

Mrs. Frangiapani says it’s nothing to worry about, she thought, Ada says it’s a poltergeist, Kimberly thinks it might be demonic, and Dwayne says it’s something sick and evil. Who’s right? Whom do I believe?

It seemed even experts on the supernatural could not agree on much of anything. She regretted not taking Mrs. Frangiapani’s advice in the first place, as Kimberly had told her to, and dropping the whole thing. Maybe if she’d ignored it, it would have gotten bored and gone away.
 

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the freckled face of the redheaded boy in the blue hooded jacket, the boy she had mistaken for Josh—knowing it had not been her son left a dull ache in her chest—then the boy’s round, cherubic face collapsing into the decayed corpse’s skull she had seen before he’d disappeared. Something had made the air cold and had destroyed the glass animals on the mantel.
 

I don ‘t know what you ‘ve got in that house, but I wouldn ‘t let it near my kid if I were you.

Martha never mentioned it. She spent the evening watching television with Miles. Jenna made herself busy around the house, did a couple loads of laundry, and called Kimberly on the phone and told her everything that had happened.
 

“Maybe you should call a ... I don’t know, a minister,” Kimberly said.

“You mean, like a priest?”

“Minister, priest, rabbi, take your pick.”

“But I don’t believe in
that
stuff, either.”
 

“Maybe you should start adjusting what you believe to fit what’s happening around you.”

Jenna laughed, but it was a sad sound. “All I know is, I wish I hadn’t gotten myself started on this stuff.”

“Then just focus on what’s important, like Mrs. Frangiapani said. Especially now that David’s hurt himself. That’s awful, Jenna. At least he’ll be covered by workmen’s comp.”
 

She sighed. “I don’t know what we’re going to do now that he can’t work. I’ll have to get a job, there’s no way around it.”

“I’ll help you look. There might even be an opening at the store.”

A few minutes after ending her conversation with Kimberly, she was about to join Miles and Martha in the living room when the phone chirped. She turned around, went back into the kitchen, and answered it.
 

“Jenna Kellar?” a woman said.

“Yes. Who’s this?”

“Donna Lopez, the
Eureka Times-Standard.
”
 

“What?”

“I’m calling about the story of a Dwayne Shattuck who says he was beaten up by a ghost in your house. Is that true?”

“Look, um ... I’d rather you not write about this.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I don’t want... my family doesn’t want this kind of attention. Please don’t write about this. It’s really not a story, it’s—”

“Wanda Bundy, a registered nurse in the ER at St. Joseph Hospital, called the police when Mr. Shattuck showed up badly beaten, and Mr. Shattuck told Officer Tom Mayhew of the Eureka Police Department that he was beaten up by a ghost in your living room. According to the report, Officer Mayhew talked to you, and you corroborated Mr. Shattuck’s story. You said, and I quote, ‘I saw it happen.’ It’s a matter of public record, Mrs. Kellar, and I’m writing the story. I’m just calling to see if you have any comment. Do you believe your house is haunted, Mrs. Kellar?”
 

Jenna stood with her mouth open for a long moment before saying, “No, I have no comment.” She returned the phone to its base.

As she stood with her hand on the phone, Jenna’s heart hammered. She could not decide what frightened her more—Dwayne’s warning about what he said was in the house, or the idea of being identified in the newspaper as “the people with the haunted house.” She imagined children picking on Miles at school because of the story. She would have to explain it all to David. Suddenly, Jenna felt exhausted.
 

When Miles’s bedtime came, he asked again if he could sleep in her bed.

“Okay,” she said, “but only for tonight.”

Relief passed through Miles, and his entire body seemed to relax before her eyes. She told him to go clean up and brush his teeth, and she would be up in a while.
 

Martha said good night and retreated to her bedroom down the hall.

Jenna went through the house and turned off all the lights. By the time she got upstairs to her bedroom, Miles was already sound asleep.