They split up to cover more ground. Derek went to check Marsha’s parents’ place. Joe stuck with Marsha, tracking her whereabouts, but until she got where she was going, he wouldn’t be able to report back with anything helpful. Rather than waiting, Chris decided to head to the grandmother’s estate. Ron went with her.
“Do you really think she’d go back there?” Ron asked Chris as she navigated through the early morning traffic on the expressway.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure where else she’d go, other than back to her parent’s place.”
“Well if she does, I hope the white lady’s in a silent mood tonight. Marsha’s in no state to withstand an emotional onslaught like that.”
“I know. Which is why I’m hoping we can beat her there.” Chris moved into the passing lane and sped up as if to give proof to her words.
“I don’t get why she’d take off. I mean, I know she’s scared, but what makes her think she’s safer on her own than with us?”
Chris thought back to her fight with Derek and gripped the wheel harder. Maybe this had nothing to do with that. But if Marsha had heard them… “Maybe she doesn’t want to put the rest of us in danger. I don’t know, though. There was something else…” Chris fell silent as she thought over their time on the roof.
“What?” Ron asked after too much silence passed.
“While we were on the roof, waiting for the ladder, I started telling her about poltergeists.”
“Did you really think that was the best time and place for that conversation?”
Chris shot her a look. “She asked. Anyway, I mentioned the theory about infant spirits, and that seemed to really upset her.”
“It’s a pretty upsetting theory.”
“Yeah, but this wasn’t the ‘Wow, that’s really messed up’ kind of upset. It was more like… I don’t know. Like it was personal, somehow.”
“Well, she did lose her baby niece. Maybe she was thinking about how awful it would be if that happened to that little girl.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” Chris realized she was tailgating the hatchback in front of her. “It’s called the passing lane, you idiot! Pass someone or move back over!” She checked the lane to her right to make sure it was clear before moving over to go around the slower car.
“Okay, maybe you don’t need to be in quite such a hurry to get there.”
“What do you care? It’s not like your life is in danger.”
“No, but I’d prefer to see you get there in one piece. Are you sure this thing with Marsha is all that’s bothering you?”
Chris took a deep breath. She considered being evasive but knew it was no use. Her sister could read her like a book. She glanced over at Ron. “Derek and I had a fight.”
“When?”
“Tonight. Right before Marsha took off.”
“What about?”
“About Marsha. Or about my involvement in this.” She shook her head. “He’s freaked out and worried about my safety.”
“Well, that’s understandable.”
“Yeah, but he wants me to quit.”
“Quit helping Marsha?”
“No, not that. But once this is over, he wants me to quit. Or retire, as he put it.” When Ron didn’t respond, Chris glanced over at her. “What? You don’t think he’s right, do you?”
“I think he has a point. Just because you have this ability doesn’t mean you have an obligation to get yourself killed over it.”
“I have no intention of getting myself killed.”
“Of course you don’t. But you’ve been coming a little too close lately.”
“Tonight wasn’t that bad. Marsha’s the one who was almost killed.”
“Yeah, but what about when you were helping Jimmy? You got shot, Chris.”
“In the leg.”
“By a guy who wanted to murder you both and stuff your bodies down a well.”
Chris blew out a huff of breath. “Derek wasn’t all insisting I quit when that happened.”
“Maybe because that guy was alive. But tonight drove home for him how dangerous the unliving can be. You can’t blame the guy for being freaked out.”
Chris ground her teeth. She hated when Ron was right. “You know, he brought up the M-word yesterday.”
“M…oving in together?”
Chris shot her a look. “That’s three words. But yes, he mentioned that, too. Only to tell me he’s not going to ask because he doesn’t think I’m the living-together type.”
“There’s a type?”
“Apparently so, and apparently I’m not it.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“I don’t know. But he wanted me to know that he’s thinking about whether he’s the marrying type.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“Is that a good thing?”
Chris blew out a breath and shook her head. “I don’t know. If he has this idea that I’m going to deny this huge part of my life so I can make him a good little wife—”
“Oh, come on, give the guy some credit. You know this is about your safety, not turning you into a Stepford bride.”
Grudgingly, Chris nodded.
“And you love him. That much is obvious.”
“Yeah. I do.” She glanced over and saw that Ron was grinning. “What?”
“What do you mean, what? Chrissy! You’re going to get married!”
“What? No! Stop. He didn’t propose. He said he’s thinking. And then we had a huge fight. Remember?”
Ron dismissed her objection with a flick of the wrist. “Fights happen. You’ll both get over it. He wouldn’t have told you he was thinking about it if he didn’t already know the answer. He was feeling you out.”
Chris considered this and realized it had a certain logic to it. “You think?”
“Uh, yeah. I do. So what did you say?”
She cringed as she remembered her response. “I told him I’m happy with the way things are.”
Ron’s smile dimmed a little. “Oh.”
“Which, I am. I mean, maybe Derek’s right about me not being happy with living together. But that doesn’t mean I’m in a rush to get married. When I get married I want it to be forever, you know?”
“Yeah. I know.”
“So why the rush? We’ve only been together six months.”
“I guess that is a little fast. But is that the only reason you’ve got cold feet?”
“I wouldn’t say they’re cold. I wouldn’t even call them lukewarm.”
“Chris.”
“I want to be sure he’s sure, you know? And if he’s not okay with what I do…” Her heart sank at the thought. She swallowed down a lump in her throat.
“He’s freaked out. Tonight was crazy and kind of terrifying. He needs time to process it.”
“Yeah, and what happens if he processes it and decides he can’t handle it? Is he really prepared for an entire lifetime of this sort of thing? What happens when it gets old?”
“Brrr.”
“What?”
“That’s what I heard your feet say.”
Chris sighed. “The truth is, last night, when Marsha was showing me wedding dresses? I couldn’t stop fantasizing about how I would look in them.”
“Well, that doesn’t mean anything. I did that for every wedding dress I ever saw in my entire life. No actual groom required.”
“Yeah, but I haven’t. It’s not the sort of thing I ever thought about. Until now.” She gripped the wheel tightly and let out a growl of frustration. “It’s this whole wedding thing. It’s making me crazy and I’m only the maid of honor!”
“Relax. You’ll do fine.”
Christine detected a note of sadness in her voice. “You don’t sound so sure.”
“It’s only that I’m sad I can’t be the maid of honor in your wedding.”
“Who says?”
“Chris, be serious.”
“I am. Maybe it won’t be traditional, but we can make it work. If I get married. Someday.”
“Yeah. We’ll see.”
Before Chris could elaborate on exactly how they might pull off such a thing, Joe appeared in the back seat. “Marsha’s at the mansion, and so is the white lady. You’d better get there fast. I don’t know what I can do but I’m gonna head back and keep an eye on the situation. Oh, and if you have earplugs? You’d do best to wear ‘em.” With that, he vanished.
Chris glanced at her sister. “I’ll pop home and get some for you,” she said and disappeared.
Cursing, Chris fumbled for her phone and speed-dialed Derek’s number. She swore when it went to voice mail. “It’s me. Marsha’s at the mansion. I’m almost there, probably about to do something dangerous. You want me to be safe? Then come and back me up.” She started to hang up, then remembered. “And bring some ear plugs.”
She hung up the phone and tossed it in the passenger seat. Then she stepped on the gas.
She could hear the spirit’s wailing before she reached the house. The estate’s long driveway wound through woods, unlit the entire way. If not for the headlights of her car, Chris would be in total darkness. Gooseflesh danced up and down her arms and back as she navigated the dark lane. Simply because she’d been doing this sort of thing most of her life didn’t mean she didn’t get creeped out sometimes, and this was definitely one of those times.
Driving as fast as she dared—which wasn’t nearly as fast as she wanted—she cranked up the radio to drown out the crying. At last, the woods opened up to reveal the house and its massive yard, all unlit. She could make out a figure up ahead in the darkness. Not the white lady, but Joe, waving her closer.
She parked and got out. Joe met her at the car. At the same time, Ron appeared. “Here.” She handed Chris a pair of orange foam earplugs. Chris had no idea how she transported objects like that, especially over such a distance, but she didn’t have time to ask. “Put these in.”
“She’s in the kitchen,” Joe said while Chris fiddled with getting the earplugs in. “She was making tea when I left her. You’d better hurry, though. It looked like the crying was starting to get to her.”
“What about the white lady?”
“I haven’t seen her, but I can sure as shootin’ hear her.”
“We all can,” said Ron.
With the earplugs firmly in place, Chris tilted her head to listen. She could, in fact, still hear the spirit, but the plugs helped to dampen both the sound and its melancholy effect. “You guys did good, but I’ve got it from here. You should go home.”
“What?” Ron looked at Joe, then at Chris as though she’d lost her mind. “You’re kidding, right? We’re not leaving you here alone.”
“I’ll be fine. Derek’s on his way.” She wished she felt as confident of that as she sounded, but the truth was she had her doubts.
A flash of light grabbed her attention. She looked down the drive and saw headlights meandering up the wooded lane. “See?” she said, letting bravado cover her relief. “He’s already here.”
“But does he have earplugs?”
“I told him to bring some. We’ll be fine. You two don’t have any defense against this thing. If you’re still here, I’ll be too busy worrying about you to take care of Marsha.”
Ron started to argue, but Joe put a hand on her shoulder. “She’s right. There’s not much we can do here.” The wailing grew loud enough to make Chris start questioning her life choices in spite of the earplugs. “’Sides,” Joe said, raising his voice to be heard over the racket, “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
Ron looked at him a moment, taking in his haggard appearance. Resignation settled over her features. “Fine.” She turned to Chris. “But I’ll be camped out by the answering machine. You call if you need me.”
“I will,” she promised. Once they both vanished, she turned to wait for Derek. But as the car emerged into the clearing, her heart sank a little as she saw that it wasn’t the familiar silhouette of Derek’s Mustang that approached. The vehicle pulled to a stop next to Chris’s car and her dad got out.
“What are you doing here?” Before Chris could even begin to think of an explanation, he asked, “What the heck is going on? What did you say to Marsha?”
“What? I—”
“I was coming back here tonight so I could sneak in while she’s asleep and surprise her in the morning. I’ve been driving all night. But I was twenty minutes out of Tulsa when I get a call from her telling me the wedding’s off. Did you have something to do with this?”
“No!”
“Then what’s going on?”
“It’s complicated,” Chris said. “Marsha’s dealing with some stuff and she’s not quite herself. I’ll explain everything but first we need to find her.”
“What do you mean, find—” Another wail, even louder than before, cut him off. He put his hands over his ears. “What is that racket?” Suddenly, his eyes grew wide as he looked past Chris. She turned to follow his gaze and saw her. The white lady floated down the hill toward the pond, wailing and tearing at her dress as she went.
Chris reached out and grabbed her dad’s arm. She could feel him shaking. When he spoke again, his voice was a whisper. “What is that?”
“That,” said Chris, squeezing his arm, “is a ghost.”
He looked at her, clearly dumbfounded. “But… I mean, for real?”
“Yes, Dad.” She tried to keep the impatience out of her voice but failed. “For real.”
He looked back at the apparition in amazement. “Why is she crying?”
“It’s a long story. We need to find Marsha and then we all need to get out of here. Come on.”
She tugged him as she started for the house, but before they reached the steps leading up to the porch, the front door opened and Marsha came out.
“Marsha!” Drew called, snapping out of his daze at the sight of her. “Sweetheart, what is going on? Why’d you call off the wedding?”
“It’s no use, Drew,” she said, not even looking in his direction as she came down the steps. He reached for her, but she brushed him off and moved past him. “It’s no use.” Her voice sounded flat and lifeless. “It’s over. It’s all over.”
“What do you mean? Why?”
She ignored him and headed down the hill in the same direction the white lady had gone. The ghost herself had reached the pond and kept going until she was completely submerged. Rather than silencing her, that only made her crying louder than ever. As if in a trance, Marsha plodded down the hill toward the pond.
“Dad, stop her!” Chris called, but instead of pursuing his fiancée, Drew sunk to his knees. “It’s over,” he muttered.
“No, Dad! What are you—” Chris swore, realizing it was useless. She left him there to go after Marsha, who’d already made good time booking it down the hill. “Marsha!” Chris got in front of her, grabbed her by the shoulders, and shook. “Snap out of it!”
Marsha blinked, and her eyes focused on Chris. She looked confused. “Chris?”
“Come with me, back to the house. We need to get out of here. Right now.”
Marsha shook her head, and the dullness settled back over her features. “No. I have to do this. Let me do this.”
“Marsha—”
“Get out of my way!” she shouted, and shoved Chris. Unprepared, Chris lost her balance and fell backwards, landing hard enough to knock the wind out of her. By the time she could breathe and move well enough to sit up, Marsha had already reached the pond and waded in.
“Marsha!” she screamed and looked back at her father, who sat on the ground, looking dazed and hopeless. “Dad! Do something!”
But he simply sat there. A sound came from him that Chris realized was a sob. Muttering curses under her breath, she got to her feet and stumbled toward the pond, where Marsha was already in up to her waist. “Marsha!” she called, but Marsha ignored her. Now she was up to her chest. There was nothing else to be done. Chris kicked off her shoes, tossed her phone on the grass, and waded in after her.
She was in up to her knees and about to dive in and swim to Marsha when suddenly, a pair of arms grabbed her around the waist and pulled her out of the water. Her ‘rescuer’ stumbled and they both fell, with Chris on top. She rolled to the side and looked over to see Derek, wet and panting and looking alarmed.
“What are you doing?” he asked her.
“Not me,” she said, pointing back at the pond. “Marsha!” As they both looked, Marsha’s head disappeared under the water.
Derek swore as he scrambled to his feet and rushed into the pond. After a moment, he was deep enough to dive in all the way. It was too dark to see anything. Chris crawled over to where she’d left her phone and fumbled for the flashlight app, then held it up over the water. But as she did, the sky began to lighten enough to see bubbles rising to the surface over the spot where Marsha had gone under.
The crying stopped. Chris muttered thanks and tore the plugs out of her ears. She watched, waiting, holding her breath.
Behind her, her dad called, “Chris?” She glanced back to see him getting to his feet. He stumbled down the hill until he reached her. “What’s going on?”
“She’s in there. Derek went in after her.”
“Who—” Before he could finish, the surface broke and Derek appeared, gasping for air. He swam for the shore, dragging a limp and lifeless Marsha behind him.
“Marsha!” Drew cried. He waded into the water to meet them. Chris set down her phone and followed. Her dad met Derek where the water became shallow enough to stand and took Marsha from him, cradling her in his arms as he carried her back to shore.
Exhausted, Derek leaned on Chris and let her help him the rest of the way out of the pond. By the time they reached the shore, Drew had already laid Marsha out on the ground and begun chest compressions. “Call nine one one!”
Chris hurried to retrieve her phone and make the call while Derk collapsed to his hands and knees, gasping for breath. Once his breathing was under control, he crawled over to Marsha, and they both worked to resuscitate her while Chris provided directions for the ambulance.
Suddenly, Marsha coughed, sputtering water. “Turn her over,” said Derek as they rolled her onto her side. She vomited up more water and then gasped for air.
“Oh, thank God. She’s breathing,” Chris told the dispatcher, her voice filled with relief.
With the ambulance confirmed, she ended the call and dropped to her knees beside Derek. “They’re on the way,” she told her dad. He barely seemed to hear her, his attention fixed entirely on Marsha as she continued to cough up water and gulp air into her lungs.
Once her breathing evened out, they rolled her onto her back. She looked up at each of them in turn, first at Derek, then at Chris. When her gaze got to Drew, her face crumpled, and she covered it with her hands.
“Hey hey hey,” he said, pulling her into his lap. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.” After a hesitant pause he asked, “What the hell was that, Marsha?”
In answer, all she could do was sob. He rocked her, looking helplessly at Chris as he stroked her dripping hair and murmured soothing words over her.
Suddenly overcome with exhaustion, Chris slumped against Derek, unmindful of his wet clothing. He wrapped an arm around her and held her tight, as if grateful she wasn’t the one he’d had to drag out of the pond. Early morning light broke through the trees and birds began to sing as though nothing had happened and everything was normal, merely another day.
And in the distance, a siren wailed.