4

 

As we sat in the parlor, I remained trapped in the quagmire of my thoughts. Ted and Trina didn’t speak. Even the creaks and groans inherent in a house were silent, just like the ghosts. The usual outside noises either failed to penetrate the walls of the house or refused to register in my brain. It was as though I had become part of the fabric of the house, substance filling the hole in my existence.

“I’m calling the police.”

I barely heard Ted.

Within fifteen minutes, a knock sounded on the front door, rousting me from my lethargy.

“Mr. Hancock, I’m Officer Paul Studler.”

Ted led the officer to the parlor and motioned him toward one of the chairs. I had never needed a police officer to come to my home before. One more event to add to the list of strange experiences. The wingback chair squeaked as the officer lowered his lanky frame into it. He examined each of us before pulling out his notebook. “You said you have information about the disappearance of Jimmy Roberts.”

“Actually, it was my father-in-law who saw him.”

Officer Studler jerked upright. “You saw Jimmy Roberts?”

I ran my hand along the top of my head and wondered about the wisdom of Ted calling the police. “I saw his ghost…”

Officer Studler slumped back into the chair and cleared his throat. “You saw a ghost.”

There was no backing down now, so I told him the whole story, including the part about the bolt and blanket fibers. Ted and Trina remained silent. After all, it was my tale to tell, my noose to stand under.

Officer Studler closed his unmarked notebook. “Did anyone else see this alleged ghost?”

I clenched my teeth, biting at the smart remark that filled my mouth. The words tasted good, but I knew the aftertaste would be bitter.

“We all saw the bolt and threads,” Ted affirmed.

Trina clutched her hands in her lap, knuckles white. Spots of red glowed on each cheek. “My dad doesn’t make up stories. He’d never seen Jimmy’s picture until Ted showed it to him.”

“When did you get into town, Mr…?”

“Iver. William Iver. This afternoon.”

“Did you drive through town, sir?”

“I guess so. I drove up 52 and around the square to Cashua, if that’s driving through town.”

“Posters of Jimmy Roberts are hanging everywhere.”

“I didn’t pay any attention; I was looking for my daughter’s house.”

Officer Studler turned to Ted, “I’ll have a team come over in the morning and check out the attic.”

He turned to me again. “Think about it awhile, Mr.…”

“Iver,” I hissed.

“Mr. Iver. I’m sure you’ll remember seeing at least one of the posters.”

My hand itched to smack the smug look off young Officer Studler’s face. What kind of a stupid name was Studler, anyway? I sent students to detention for fighting, and now I understood why they did it. His words had provoked an animal reaction in me.

The officer pushed against the arms of the chair as he rose. I watched, expecting the fragile frame to collapse under the pressure, but it held against the strain. Better than me.

“You are going to send someone over, aren’t you?” Ted asked.

“Sure. In the morning. By the way, does Mrs. Roberts know?” He looked at his watch. “It’s ten o’clock, but she might still be up. I can stop by her house.”

“We’ll call her in the morning,” Ted said as he led the officer to the door.

We stared through the windows until the cruiser’s headlights were swallowed up in the dark.

Trina yawned. “Do you think you can sleep, Dad, after all this excitement?”

I noticed the dark circles under my daughter’s eyes. “I’m bone tired. I’ll be asleep before you,” I lied, knowing I was too wired to close my eyes.

Ted had already carried my suitcase upstairs. When I opened the door, the air in the newly cleaned room smelled slightly of lemon, probably furniture polish. Since seeing the remainder of the house, I appreciated the work Trina had put into getting my bedroom ready. A budvase with a fresh pink rose rested on the dresser, flanked by a candle setting in the middle of a glass plate. A bit feminine for my taste, but this was Trina’s touch, her attempt to make me know I was welcome. As I pulled the cool sheets over my aching body, love for my daughter mingled with the tension still present in my chest.

Physically exhausted but far from sleep, I stared at the ceiling, aware of the passing of time. Night sounds filtered through the screened window: a car on the street, the leaves moving in the trees, a dog barking in the distance. Soothing sounds.

Then other noises. I could hear the boys above me. Footsteps.

The house had not yet revealed all its secrets.