“Well, someone should answer it,” Coulter said.
Jane folded her arms. “Don’t look at us, you guys are the professionals.”
“I’ll do it,” Anjali said. “Maybe I can get an idea of who we’re dealing with.” She quickly went across the hall and picked up the phone. “Hello?”
Girlish giggles filled her ears and then began to chant. “Ring around the roses, ring around the roses. You’ll all fall down,” they said in unison.
Scott came up behind her and laid his hand on her shoulder. “What do you hear?”
“Randall’s twins, I think. They were singing a nursery rhyme and it couldn’t have been creepier if Linda Blair was doing the chorus.”
She was about to put the phone down when a soft female voice came through the receiver. “Help me…help.” The voice cut right to her insides. She reached up and gripped Scott’s hand.
And then silence once again.
“Another voice broke through,” she said.
“Who?” Scott asked.
Slowly, she replaced the receiver and turned to find everyone crammed into the doorway staring at her. “I don’t know, but she wants help.”
Dr. Madison sighed. “The poor tormented dear, she’s crying out for help. It has to be Molly. She needs us.”
“I can’t confirm—” Anjali began.
“But it makes perfect sense. Don’t you see? Molly’s guilt has trapped her in the house.” Dr. Madison came forward and took Anjali’s hands in hers. “She’s reached out to you, my dear. Jane, start setting up in here please. I can’t wait to get started.”
Anjali went to Scott. “Can I talk to you privately?”
He opened the door to the kitchen. “No one’s in here.”
Once they were alone, she brought up what was bothering her. “It’s Dr. Madison, she’s hell-bent on this presence being Molly, but I don’t think it is.”
“I don’t think it’s Molly either. It just seems too tidy. Anything else come to you?”
One of his rolled-up shirtsleeves was undone. She moved closer and began folding it up. “I sensed an older female.”
“Randall’s wife?”
Without any conscious effort, her fingers trailed down the inside of his arm and lightly touched his wrist. “Sarah? I can’t be sure.”
When he didn’t answer, she glanced up. His eyes were on her face. She looked down to where she was openly caressing his wrist. Startled, she let go of him.
“There you are!” Dr. Madison danced a little jig. “We’re all set up. Come on.”
They were in the dining room. Jane was using a handheld camera, Steve was operating the boom, and Darryl, the lighting guy, had brightened the room considerably. Anjali, Scott, Coulter, and Dr. Madison were sitting at the table.
“No séances,” Anjali said firmly before Dr. Madison opened her mouth.
“But my dear, how else will we contact Molly?”
“Séances open the door too far, I—I just can’t…”
“I have another idea,” Scott said and placed a pad of paper and a pen in front of Anjali. “Has everyone heard of automatic writing?”
Jane smiled at him from behind the camera lens. “Why don’t you explain it for the audience?”
“Normally automatic writing is when you ask a question, and then let your hand move across the page, writing whatever comes into your mind. But in Anjali’s case, as a telepath, she’ll ask the spirit a question and begin writing, waiting for the spirit to answer.”
“Oh goody,” Dr. Madison said eagerly. “Let’s begin.”
Anjali picked up the pen. “What do I ask and to whom do I ask it?”
“Be general,” Scott said. “Ask the house what it wants.”
“Just a casual chat,” she said and picked up the pen. “Whoever you are? What do you want?” She began scrawling across the page, not writing words, just swirls of the pen line after line.
She reached the bottom of the page, turned it over, and started again. In seconds she had reached the bottom of that page and started on another page. After she had filled up five pages of scrawls, she looked up. “Absolutely nothing.”
“Turn around, Angel,” Coulter said quietly.
She turned to see her name scrawled across the dining room wall in large letters.
“Oh my God,” Jane said.
“How wonderful.” Dr. Madison gasped. “Just like at the Borley Rectory.”
“The house wants me?” Anjali said weakly.
Scott stared at the wall. “Ask another question.”
Coulter reached out and took her hand. She was glad for the support. Taking a deep breath, she asked, “Who are you?”
Slowly letters began to form under her name. M-O-L-L-Y.
“Are you getting this, Jane?” Dr. Madison asked.
“Damn straight.”
Dr. Madison’s eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed. “I was right. I knew we would contact Molly. After more than a hundred years, my dear, Molly has chosen to reach out to you.”
“Personally I would have reached out to Angelina Jolie,” Coulter drawled. Anjali shot him a dirty look and pulled away her hand.
For the next hour, the group had Anjali ask the spirit question after question, but no more words appeared on the walls.
“I think we should take a break,” Scott said and stood.
Coulter yawned and stretched. “Fine by me.”
Dr. Madison patted Anjali’s hand. “Don’t worry, dear. I’m sure Molly will contact us again.”
“I’m not worried,” Anjali began. “In fact—”
“So.” Jane strolled to Scott’s side and smiled up at him. “What’s the plan?”
“Simple,” Scott said. “We wait.”
Rain pattered against the roof.
The house was bathed in darkness except for the sitting room, which was lit by the glow of the fire crackling in the fireplace.
Dr. Madison was asleep on the sofa.
Coulter, Anjali, Scott, and Darryl were playing poker by the fire. Between the three of them they already owed Coulter more than five thousand dollars.
Jane sat down next to them and took out a cigarette. She caught Anjali’s eyes and with a sigh tucked it behind her ear. “Where’s Scott?”
“Fold,” Anjali said and put down her cards. “He wanted to do another walk-through.” And didn’t ask for company.
Jane leaned over and gazed at Steve’s cards. “You’re in. Ante up.”
Steve folded instead. “I can’t afford this.”
“Neither can I,” Darryl said and folded as well.
Coulter set down his cards with a flourish. “Read ’em and weep.”
Steve’s eyes widened. “I could’ve beat you!”
“Told you,” Jane said and turned back to Anjali. “You haven’t got dibs on him, have you? Your boss?”
“What? Scott?” Anjali asked.
“He’s single,” Coulter said, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Very available.”
Jane grinned. “I did get that vibe.”
Anjali couldn’t decide whether she was more annoyed with Jane or with Coulter. She caught Coulter’s eye. He was practically laughing at her. Okay, Coulter then. No wait. She was mostly annoyed at herself. Did she like Scott? What had happened in the kitchen? And did this place have a liquor cabinet?
The door to the parlor burst open. Scott strode in. “I need you guys to come with me upstairs. There’s something you should see.”
Anjali, Coulter, and Jane followed Scott up to the second floor. Darryl and Steve stayed behind with the snoozing Dr. Madison.
They entered the first bedroom to the left of the landing.
It was now in shambles.
Covers pulled from the bed. Furniture upturned. The vanity mirror hung at a crazy angle.
“What the hell happened?” Coulter asked.
“There’s more,” Scott said.
The remaining rooms on the second floor were in the same condition.
“The Booth family is not going to like this,” Anjali said.
Scott checked the readings on the EMF, then looked up. “The Booth descendants rarely come by. A caretaker couple does the bare minimum to keep the place from falling to the elements.”
“Something’s happening,” Coulter said. “I can feel it.” He held out his hand, the fine hairs were standing up, the air was charged. Suddenly the door slammed shut.
Jane ran and tugged at the handle. “It won’t open!”
“Hang on.” Coulter stared at the door and focused. It flew open.
Darryl and Steve stood there, faces flushed, chests heaving. “What happened?” Darryl said. “We heard you calling us.” He stared at Anjali.
“Me?”
“You were screaming for help,” Steve said. “We came as fast as we could. The door wouldn’t open and then”—he paused in wonder—“it did.”
“I didn’t call you,” Anjali said and looked at Scott.
“Dr. Madison,” he said.
They ran down the stairs, Scott in the lead. They burst into the sitting room. It was empty. Dr. Madison was gone.