CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

Peyton fought to break free from the heavy hands on her shoulders. Through her scream, she heard the voice bellow, "Peyton, calm down! It's just me...Vance--"

Swiveling around, Peyton looked up at her stepfather's face, still apprehensive. She saw alarm etched in his eyes.

"Vance...I thought it was--"

"What on earth has gotten into you, Peyton?"

She stopped flailing, somehow feeling protected by him, given the alternative.

Her mother came up behind Vance. "What is it, honey?"

Peyton gulped. "That man...he's been shot--"

"What man?" Vance asked.

"The one behind me...on the floor..." She couldn't bear to look at him again.

"There's no man on the floor, Peyton."

"There has to be," she insisted.

"We don't see anyone," Melody stated.

Peyton sucked in a deep breath and forced herself to look; sure she would see the bloodied man even if they couldn't.

The floor was completely empty. There was not even a trail of blood like before.

She broke free of Vance's hold and looked around the room, as if expecting the injured man to be hiding somewhere amidst the furnishings. But he had seemingly vanished. Just like Caitlyn had at the door of her bedroom.

"You must've had another bad dream, sweetheart," her mother said.

"No, it wasn't a dream, Mom." Peyton shuddered. "He was here. I saw him and I wasn't sleepwalking! There was blood leading down the hall to this room."

Vance cut on the hall light and peered. "Where is this blood?"

Peyton moved past them into the hall and saw no sign of blood drops. Had she conjured up the whole thing against her wishes?

"But the girl..." she uttered weakly.

"What girl?" Vance asked.

"The one I saw in the bay."

"What's she got to do with this?"

"She asked for my help--well, I mean, she kind of asked. There was red writing on the wall--" Peyton looked at her mother, knowing how ridiculous this must sound. At this point she didn't care, needing to speak her mind about what was going on. "She appeared in my room. It was the same girl from the photograph. Her name is Caitlyn--"

Melody cocked a brow. "How do you know that?

"She told me."

"What photograph are we talking about?" asked Vance, looking totally befuddled. "Would someone please tell me what's going on?"

Melody frowned. "We were up in the attic the other day and there was an old photograph of a family who apparently once lived here." She paused. "Peyton thought the teenage girl in it was the same one she saw in the bay..."

"You're not serious about this, right?" Vance looked at Peyton.

"Wrong," she responded sharply. "It's the truth!"

"She's just confused," Melody suggested. "Whatever's happening to Peyton, I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation that we can figure out together."

"I'm not confused!" Peyton said defensively, though doubting her own words. "This house is haunted, even if I'm the only one who can see it. That man in the picture shot his wife and daughter, Caitlyn, and another man a long time ago. Now they won't leave me alone and I don't know why."

Vance fixed her with hard eyes. "Listen, this has got to stop, Peyton. You hear me? There's no haunted house or ghosts living here...or in the bay. We can't keep going through this every time you have a...I don't know...episode. Now I think we should all go back to bed and just forget about this."

Tears welled up in Peyton's eyes as she looked at her mother. "You have to believe me, Mom. I know what I saw tonight. Something's terribly wrong in this house and none of us are safe as long as we turn and look the other way."

Melody touched Peyton's cheek. "We'll talk about it in the morning, dear."

"But it might be too late by then."

"Nothing is going to happen to any of us over the next few hours, Peyton. We'll be more clear-headed to discuss this after some sleep."

Peyton supposed she was right. The danger seemed to have passed for the moment. Or so she hoped. But trying to figure out what Caitlyn's dire warning meant would not be easy, especially when Peyton doubted she would get much support, with Vance more likely to want to cart her off to the funny farm for the rest of her life.

"Please don't let him put me away in a mental hospital," she told her mother.

"No one's talking about sending you anywhere, Peyton," Melody promised, and faced Vance. "Isn't that right?"

He rubbed his forehead. "Yeah, for now, we'll keep this in the family and see how it goes."

Peyton didn't like the sound of that, suggesting she was living on borrowed time before he considered her a basket case.

Unless I can somehow prove something I'm not even one hundred percent positive is happening.

"If you'd like, I'll stay with you for a while," Melody offered, after walking Peyton to her room.

"Would you?"

"Of course."

"Thanks, Mom."

Peyton wanted to be brave, but was a bit unnerved about being in her room alone. What if Caitlyn returned and was angry that there seemed to be no way to change history? Or what if the wounded man showed up asking for--no, demanding--help again?

* * *

Peyton tried to put the whole thing behind her the next day. There was no indication that Caitlyn--if that was really her name--had ever been in Peyton's room or caused words to appear on the wall. Or, for that matter, a badly injured, bloody man in the spare bedroom. Since it all happened after the nightmare, Peyton figured it must have been some sort of dream manifestation causing her to somehow blur ghoulish fantasy with reality.

Yet another part of Peyton was certain that what she had witnessed was anything but an overactive and scary imagination. Why would these things suddenly begin to happen after moving to Shadow Bay? Yes, she'd had horrible nightmares for months after her father's death. But nothing like this. No, there had to be something more to it than her mind simply conjuring up such evil thoughts.

During breakfast, Peyton avoided talking about last night. Neither her mother nor stepfather brought up the subject either, as if fearing it would trigger a relapse or negative reaction.

Vance went to work and her mother to the grocery store, after Peyton convinced her she would be fine by herself.

She decided to brave the attic alone, hoping to find out if there was anything else up there that might provide a clue as to who the people were.

Especially the girl.

But first, Peyton went to the study to get her cell phone from the cabinet where Vance had put it. She planned to use it to take some pictures or video in the attic. Only the cell phone was gone. Vance had obviously hidden it elsewhere.

She frowned. Guess I'll have to do without it this time, but I'll find it eventually.

Peyton climbed the attic stairs, conscious of every creak. She had second thoughts about following through, fearful that she was being watched.

Maybe I'm getting way too paranoid. Even if this house were haunted by ghosts, could they really hurt me?

Peyton put aside her qualms and went for it. She entered the attic and found the framed picture. It had fallen over. She distinctly remembered the photograph being upright when they left that day. There were two windows in the attic, but both were shut so there was no chance a gust of wind had done the trick.

Had her mother come back up and held the photograph?

Peyton studied it. She wanted to believe the resemblance between the family in the picture and those in her dream were purely coincidental. But was it? She sensed there was much more to it than that.

Was the girl's name really Caitlyn? Are you and your mother and that man who was shot dead now? Or are they still alive somewhere? No, that didn't make sense.

She set about to find some answers. Pouring through boxes, Peyton found mostly junk and no further clues about the family in the photo.

Then she found a photograph, this one small and unframed. It was in the bottom of a box of old magazines from the 1960s. The black and white picture was of the same teenage girl in the other photograph, accompanied by another girl around the same age. Peyton imagined it couldn't have been taken too much earlier or later than the family picture.

Could they be sisters?

Peyton studied the girl from her dreams and the bay. Are you Caitlyn? Do you really need my help?

Peyton jumped when she heard a sound behind her. Turning, she saw that a box had tipped over. Was it Caitlyn's way of getting her attention? Scanning the attic, she saw no one, real or imaginary.

Resisting the urge to bolt, Peyton went to the box and peeled off the tape that sealed it. Inside were some old toys and dolls. She picked up a doll with long blonde hair that looked new, but was obviously from another era.

Wonder what I'd get for this on eBay?

A tag attached to the doll's arm read: To Caitlyn, from Mama.

So Caitlyn was a real person and not just my imagination.

Sensing a presence, Peyton turned around and saw Caitlyn. She was wearing a pretty pink dress and white shoes, as if about to go to Sunday school.

Peyton's first impulse was to run away as fast as she could. But that would only deepen the mystery of why the girl kept appearing to her. Besides, it seemed like there was no way to run and hide from a ghost who was determined to be seen. At least by her.

If only she had her cell phone, Peyton could have videotaped or taken a photo of the ghost girl to prove to her mom and others that she was real, or as real as a ghost could be. Yet Peyton had a feeling that it wouldn't have worked, as she was clearly a ghost who only made her presence known when she wanted to.

Peyton decided it was best to keep her cool and confront the ghost head on.

"Is this yours?" Peyton held up the doll.

The girl simply stared, but said nothing.

"Caitlyn, right?"

She nodded and might have even smiled.

"I'm Peyton, but you already know that."

Caitlyn nodded again.

"Why did you come to my room last night?" Peyton asked. "Was it to warn me about the man who was shot? I saw him in the spare bedroom."

Caitlyn moved her head up and down.

"Your father shot him, you, and then your mother."

Caitlyn nodded sadly.

"I'm sorry it happened, but why have you come to me?" Peyton eyed her. "Do you want me to stop it from happening?"

Caitlyn seemed to be trying to say something, but was voiceless.

"I can't help you fix something that's already taken place decades ago." Peyton wasn't sure if she was getting through to her. "Do you understand?"

Caitlyn moved towards Peyton. Peyton backed away, as if being touched would kill her or turn her into a zombie or something. When she could back up no more, Peyton, heart pounding, waited helplessly for what would happen next.

Caitlyn stopped scant inches away. She reached out to touch her and Peyton closed her eyes, afraid to look. When she opened them, the girl was gone.

But Peyton's mother was there.

"Peyton..."

"Mom...I didn't hear you come up." Peyton exhaled breath that she had seemingly been holding forever in anticipating Caitlyn's touch.

Melody's brow creased. "You shouldn't be up here, Peyton. It'll just result in more problems."

"I'm fine," she lied, shifting her eyes, hoping to spot Caitlyn.

"Are you?" Her mother's voice rang with doubt.

"Yeah. I only came up to see if there was anything I might be able to use." Peyton lifted the doll. "Look what I found. It belonged to a girl named Caitlyn."

Melody looked at the doll and tag, then her daughter. "This doesn't mean it's the same girl who's in the picture."

"So you think I just conjured up the name?" Peyton didn't dare tell her that she had seen Caitlyn's ghost just moments earlier. Or that she was sure it was Caitlyn who made the box fall so Peyton could find the doll.

"Maybe you saw it somewhere in the house and don't remember."

"I think I would've remembered that." Peyton batted her lashes with irritation. "Either way, Caitlyn is the girl in the photo, I'm sure of it."

Melody sighed. "So maybe her name is Caitlyn," she said. "I don't want you to get too caught up in who she is or was. All it will do is cause you to have more bad dreams. Nothing good can come from that."

"But what if they weren't dreams? What if it was a window into something truly bad that happened in this house?"

"Then you must close it! There's nothing you can do to alter the past--no matter how much you want to believe there's some sort of hidden message in whatever you're experiencing."

"What if it's not about the past, but the future?" Peyton suggested. "Our future as a family living in this house..."

Melody narrowed her eyes. "Listen to me, I want you to stay away from this attic and remove any thoughts that there's something supernatural going on here."

"How can you be so sure there isn't?" You wouldn't be if you'd seen the things I did.

"This is serious, Peyton. Vance already thinks you're teetering on the edge of insanity. Let's not give him any more ammunition, please."

Peyton's nostrils flared. "Why does everything always have to be about what Vance thinks? He's like not even my real father, even if he tries to pretend he is."

"But he is my husband, Peyton!" Melody's voice rose. "And you're my daughter. We have to try to make it work, even if there are bumps in the road. And that means not rocking the boat by this talk of communicating with spirits or whatever and otherwise allowing your imagination to run wild."

Peyton hugged her mother impulsively. "I'm sorry." She just wished things would go back to the way they were--before they moved to Shadow Bay. Except for meeting Bryant and Lily.

"Don't be." Melody kissed her forehead. "Let's just try to put this behind us and move forward."

"Fine."

If only it were that simple. Peyton had a feeling it would be anything but simple.

When she pulled away, Melody wrapped her arms around herself. "It's feeling a bit chilly up here all of a sudden," she said. "Why don't we go downstairs and you can help me put away the groceries?"

"Okay." Peyton wondered if there was more to the chill than her mother realized. She glanced about, as if expecting Caitlyn to rematerialize. But it didn't happen.

She put the doll back in the box and slipped the photograph of Caitlyn and another girl in her pocket while her mother's head was turned. Peyton believed Caitlyn was appearing for some important reason that she clearly wanted her to figure out, no matter how weird and unsettling it seemed.

The words Caitlyn had written on the wall replayed in her head: "You must help me before it's too late for all of us--"

By "all of us," did Caitlyn mean Peyton's family was also in danger?

I'm not sure how to fight this or where to turn.

What could she possibly do to help a troubled ghost who had likely been shot by her own father years ago? Especially when Peyton's mother and stepfather were steadfastly opposed to any suggestion that spirits haunted the house.