I borrowed the car and drove to Erin's house. I knew her husband had similar hours, so after knocking, I took the key I'd stolen and opened the door. The house was small, but neat and tidy. I started in the living room, and sure enough, almost every picture there was of the old creepy lady. Her eyes were solid white, and her toothless mouth hung open in a scream or a laugh, I couldn't tell. She did seem angry, though.
The only pictures that didn't feature the old lady were of Erin and her husband or other family members. One, an older one of a young girl with teased bangs and laser lights shooting behind her, had to be her mother. The eighties were a scary time. Another one of a young girl with cat's-eye glasses and a bouffant, could have been her grandmother. Or possibly a beloved great-aunt. But for the most part, the Clarks were living in what I would consider a house of horror. Every picture was disturbing on new and escalating levels.
Then I realized they might not all be of baby Hannah. Some of them could be of Erin's first children. Was someone or something haunting Erin? Was a ghost targeting her children for some reason? And if so, for what reason? What would a ghost have to gain by killing children?
I wish this seeing dead people had come with a manual of some sort. Or a diagram. A flow chart would have been nice. I might have to go to the library and look up Fifty Reasons Ghosts Kill. Or How to Tell if You Have a Poltergeist in Ten Simple Steps.
Poltergeist. Could that be it? Weren't they different from, like, regular dead people? I wracked my amnesic brain. What did I know about honest-to-goodness poltergeists? They were angry. I knew that. They often attached themselves to a place, an object, or a person. They lived, in a manner of speaking, for scaring the crap out of people.
But if that was the case, Headless Henry fit the definition as well.
Wait, no he didn't. He wasn't angry. He wasn't using his power for evil. He had an evil sense of humor, but that didn't make him a bad guy. This woman, the woman targeting Erin and her family, was bad.
If I were being the least bit honest, I would have admitted that I had no idea whether a ghost could actually kill. It seemed wrong in the grand scheme of things. But it was the only explanation. Other than the obvious one that any normal person would adhere to: Erin's children died of SIDS. Plain and simple and what I considered one of the most tragic of all losses. Pretty much any bad event that happened to a child made no sense. Everything from kids with cancer to the ones who'd been abused or abandoned. The mere thought ripped at my heart. And the idea of Erin losing another child squeezed it like a vise.
Why? Did the child really have to pay for the sins of the father? And if so, what the bloody fuck? Why should my kid have to pay for my mistakes?
I was so never having children. They'd be doomed.
A male voice sounded from behind me, and the adrenaline that dumped into my system caused me to jump so high I almost bit it on the landing.
"Hey!" he yelled. "What are you doing?"
Reflexively, I picked up the poker from the fireplace and turned to him, aiming it like a sword. "Stay back! I mean it."
He stood just outside the kitchen, wearing only a towel and holding a … frying pan. Really? An entire kitchen at his disposal and he chooses a frying pan? Admittedly, it was cast iron. It'd kill if wielded properly, but I didn't think this guy was a killer.
"You're in my house," he said, holding the skillet with both hands in the exact manner I was holding the poker. I honestly didn't know who was more frightened. But he did have a good point. I was the trespasser, he the trespassee.
"Who are you?" he asked as he took a wary step back. He looked to the side and spotted something.
All my dreams of living a life free of sliding bars and crappy food vanished when I realized he was going for his phone.
"Wait!" I yelled before he picked it up. "I think your house is haunted!"
He picked up the phone anyway but didn't do anything with it. Not yet.
There was still hope. I took one hand off the poker and raised it in surrender. "I know how this is going to sound, but I think your baby's in danger."
"That's what my wife keeps saying. Do you know her?"
"She told me your first two children passed before they were a year old."
He lowered the pan. "Yeah, but they weren't mine. She and her ex divorced after their second child died."
That made sense. Not many couples lasted after losing a child.
"And now she keeps going on and on about this bitch at work and how she now believes Hannah will die, too, no matter how safe we are."
"Yeah. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I'm the bitch."