by Peter Swift
16.
"I'm outta here," Stevie said. Any thoughts that Virginia Harcourt wasn't evil—that all she wanted was to clear her good name—instantly evaporated once he saw the photo of her shadow reaching toward the baby. She had killed her parents, and she had killed the baby, too!
"Right behind you," Angie agreed quietly, her voice a tight knot of apprehension.
They both stood and walked as quickly as they could back outside the house. Stevie pointed to the driveway and they ran. Angie followed him until they hit the road, where they crossed the street and turned toward Stevie's house. Neither of them spoke until they closed his front door, locked it, and slid the bolt across.
"That was—" Angie began.
"I know," Stevie finished. "Insane."
"If by insane you mean incredible!" Angie said. With a wild, excited look in her eyes, she clenched both fists in the air and fell back onto the couch. Stevie knew that look, and didn't like it at all. It meant trouble. "I can't wait to go back again tomorrow!"
Angie unbuttoned her jacket and tossed it to Stevie, and he took off his own and placed them in the coat closet under the stairs. Then he returned and dropped onto the sofa next to her.
"Seriously?" he asked.
"Heck yeah! That was the most exciting thing EVER! I felt like a real ghost hunter. Man, I wish I had some of that cool equipment, like EMF sensors and infrared cameras and stuff! I know we'd find something there."
"Should've been here last night," Stevie said. "You wouldn't need any of that stuff."
He was still pretty freaked out about the whole thing, but truth-be-told, Angie's excitement was contagious. It had been thrilling, and it wasn't like they'd actually seen anything else in the house.
He tried to think back and remember the picture. Had the shadow actually been a figure reaching for the baby? He remembered when he first looked at it, how it had looked like just a blob. Angie had even asked if it was a stain. Maybe it really was just a stain, and their minds had formed what they expected to see. Like looking for shapes in the clouds. Or those Rorschach ink blot tests psychologists use.
No way! Stevie thought. I know what I saw. The townspeople were right! Virginia Harcourt really had killed her baby sister!
Or something inside Virginia had done it. Maybe the same something that won't let her spirit rest.
Angie started speaking excitedly. "Tomorrow I’m bringing my camera and flashlights and I think my dad has an old tape recorder and—"
"My dad's got one we can borrow," Stevie said, getting into the moment.
"Sweet!" Angie jumped up. "Gonna raid your fridge."
"Have at it." Stevie watched her reflection in the big mirror over the television until she disappeared through the archway that led into the kitchen. Stevie's mother always decorated the mirror with holiday themes, and Halloween was no exception. Paper witches, skeletons, and ghosts danced around the edges, and a HAPPY HALLOWEEN banner was taped to the top. Jack-O-Lanterns wearing black witch hats smiled from the bottom right corner.
"Oh!" she called loudly from the other room. "I should bring Dad's old camera instead of mine! I heard film is better than digital for catching spirit orbs."
"I hope small lights on film are all we catch," Stevie called back, but his confidence was growing. With Angie talking about ghost hunting, it made sense to him to go in there and try to figure out a way to get rid of the thing, rather than wait at home for the broken girl to come visiting again.
In the distance, thunder rumbled and Stevie looked outside. Clouds were gathering again. Looked like another storm was approaching.
"Mr. Stark's is gonna be psyched about that picture!" Angie said. "Lucky I found it. Could be an important historical discovery. Maybe a paranormal one, too!"
"Lucky you found it?" Stevie asked. "I seem to remember being there, too."
"Well, yeah. But it was my foot that went through the floor. And you didn't even want to go inside!"
"That's true," Stevie said. He knew that Angie just wanted to look good to Mr. Stark.
"I should've brought it back with us," she said. "I hope rain doesn't go through the window and wreck it."
"I'm glad you didn't. I don't want to take anything else from Virginia Harcourt."
Angie's reflection reappeared in the mirror, and a moment later she was sitting on the couch with a plate of crackers and a few slices of American cheese.
"What do you want to do?" Stevie asked.
"Not want to, but have to. We've got homework for tomorrow and a test coming up, remember?"
Stevie scrunched up his face. "Yeah. And I thought Virginia Harcourt was scary."
Angie laughed. "When is Emily's game finished?"
"Not sure," Stevie said. "Kinda late. What about your mom's party?"
"Same time."
Angie handed Stevie a cheese-and-cracker and pulled some books from her backpack. Stevie shoved the snack in his mouth and joined her. They finished their homework, and then studied for about an hour and a half.
While they were working, the storm came in force. Thunder boomed and lightning flashed. Stevie wondered if Emily's game would be rained out. He found himself constantly looking out through the window toward the driveway, more than half expecting to see a dark, broken figure. He imagined it suddenly appearing, right up against the window. Staring at them with dead eyes and maggots crawling in and out through its mouth and nose and rotting flesh.
"Enough already!" Angie said. "My brain is full!"
"That's unusual," Stevie teased. "Your head is usually so empty."
"Ha ha, very funny. It's no wonder Plotts likes you so much," Angie joked, and then nodded to the Blu-ray player. "How about a little Haunting of Horror Hill?"
"Really?" Stevie asked. "You want to watch a scary movie? Haven't you had your fill of creepiness for the day?"
Angie shook her head. "That just put me in the mood!"
"Weirdo." Stevie smiled, dropped the cracker into his mouth, and started the movie. The Haunting of Horror Hill was there favorite scary movie. They must have watched it twenty times together.
When the movie was about half over, Stevie remembered something that Mr. Stark had told him.
"Hey," he said. "Mr. Stark said his father had some unusual ideas about ghosts and spirits and stuff in The Grove. Maybe we should talk to him."
"You wanna go over?"
Stevie pulled the white pages from a drawer in the end table and picked up the phone. "I was thinking we could just call him?"
"Yeah," Angie said. She took the remote and paused the movie. A woman's face filled the screen, frozen mid-scream. "That's a better plan."
Stevie turned on the phone and dialed. Angie scooted closer and put her head against his so she could hear, too. It rang four times, and then a man's gruff voice answered.
"Stark," was all he said.