Ghost Hunt 2: MORE Chilling Tales of the Unknown (27 page)

And dark,
Grant thought.
This actually
looks
like a haunted house.

“It’s Jason Hawes and Grant Wilson,” Jason said. “We’re here from The Atlantic Paranormal Society. You called our office this morning, ma’am.”

The front door opened a crack. A pair of eyes peered out.

“I’d like to see some identification, please,” the quiet voice said.

Jason and Grant got out their driver’s licenses and held them up. There was a moment of silence while the person inside looked them over. Then the door opened a little wider, just wide enough for the two men to fit through.

“Please, come inside.” They stepped through the front door into a narrow hallway. “I really do thank you for coming so quickly,” the woman said as she led them down the hall.

Just as Grant had expected, the hall was dark. But when the trio reached the kitchen, he got a surprise. The room was bright and cheerful. Brightly colored bowls of different colors sat on open shelves.

There were two big windows with cheery yellow curtains. The curtains were pulled back to let in the sunshine. Through the windows, Grant could see a neat and tidy backyard. There were flower beds filled with purple-and-white petunias. Vegetable beds grew lettuce and tomatoes. A crab apple tree filled with bright red fruit stood just outside the kitchen door.

“I didn’t mean to sound like you weren’t welcome,” the client went on. Like her kitchen and garden, the older woman was neat as a pin. Her face was lined with wrinkles, but her eyes were blue and bright.

“But I can’t be too careful. A woman like me, all on her own. My name is Abigail McGrath. But then your staff would have told you that, I suppose.”

“We’re pleased to meet you,” Jason said. “And we understand your concerns. We want you to feel comfortable. Would you like to tell us what’s been going on? The staff member who called us said you believe you’ve been hurt by a ghost.”

“Yes,” Mrs. McGrath said calmly. “I was.”

She turned around. Now both Jason and Grant could see a white bandage on one shoulder. Mrs. McGrath patted the bandage.

“This happened just last night. I’ve been worried and upset before, of course, but this… well, this was simply the last straw. I knew I had to call someone. Whatever’s going on inside this house, the time has come for it to stop.

“I’ve lived here for more than fifty years,” Mrs. McGrath continued in her quiet voice. “First with my husband, Leo, then on my own when he died. I’ve never had a bit of trouble until just lately.”

She gave a quick shudder. As if to distract herself from bad memories, she went to the cupboard and got down three cups. She poured coffee and carried them to the table, then brought milk and sugar and finally a plate of cookies.

Grant watched Abigail McGrath as she moved around the kitchen. His eyes took in the details of the room. He got so busy doing this that he jumped when Jason laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Check out the top of the fridge,” Jay said in a low voice.

Grant nodded. “I know,” he whispered back.

On top of the fridge was a big piece of wood with half a dozen knife handles sticking out of it.
A knife block,
he thought.
That’s what people call it.

“You keep your knives on top of the refrigerator?” Grant asked as Mrs. McGrath finally sat down.

“Oh, yes,” she said calmly. “I know it must seem odd, but my niece has a young son. That boy loves to climb. Would you believe I actually found him swinging from the chandelier above the dining room table once? I forgot to push one of the chairs in, and he climbed right up on it. From there he got onto the table, and after that—”

She broke off with a smile. “Anyhow. I didn’t want to run the risk of his getting into the knives. So I keep the knife block on top of the fridge. I figured it would be out of reach way up there.”

“Makes sense to me,” Jason admitted. All of a sudden, he grinned. “You know,
my
mom claimed I swung from the dining room chandelier when I was a boy. I always figured she was making it up. Guess I’m going to have to call her up and apologize.”

“Maybe you should have joined the circus,” Grant suggested.

“I thought I had.”

“You boys sound just like brothers,” Mrs. McGrath commented. “How nice.”

“Mrs. McGrath,” Grant said, his expression serious now, “will you please tell us what happened last night?”

“I went to bed about eleven, like I always do,” she said. “All day long, I was kind of jumpy. I think it was all the noise from down the street, where they’re tearing down the old Bryant House. It was a reform school—what we used to call a home for wayward boys.”

Mrs. McGrath paused.

“Wayward,” she said quietly. “Such an interesting word, don’t you think? They weren’t bad boys. Not all of them. They just didn’t fit in, and so they got locked up.”

She gave herself a little shake, like she was waking up from a dream.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Where was I?”

“Last night,” Grant prompted.

“Oh, yes. That’s right. Well, I went to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I kept hearing all these noises. Like somebody was banging around inside the house. I didn’t really want to get up. Night is when all the bad things happen.”

“Like what?” Jason asked.

“Well,” Mrs. McGrath said quietly, “just last week, I heard a noise in the living room. When I got there, all the books were pulled out of the bookshelves. When I went to put them back, one came flying through the air and hit me on the head pretty hard.

“The next night, while I was making a cup of hot chocolate before bed, the burner on the stove I was using went out. But all the other ones came on full strength. The oven door banged open and closed.

“I went out to the living room. I didn’t want to get burned. When I went to sit in my favorite chair, I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders. They pushed me down, hard.”

“All that sounds pretty scary,” Grant said.

“Well, yes,” Mrs. McGrath said. “It was.” She looked at Grant and Jason for a minute. Her blue eyes moved from one face to the other. “I don’t know how you were raised,” she said, “but I was raised to solve my own problems. I don’t like to ask for help. But after last night…”

Her voice trailed off.

“But anyway, last night I heard a noise, as I said,” she continued. “The noise came from the kitchen. I was afraid to get up. But I told myself I had to do it. I refuse to be afraid in my own home.

“So I got out of bed and went down the hall. The kitchen was completely dark. And that was strange. I keep a night-light on in every room to help me find my way around.

“I was just stepping into the kitchen when something pushed me from behind. I stumbled across the room and ran face-first into the fridge. Then I felt two hands turn me around. They pushed me back against the fridge a second time. Something hit my head so hard I saw stars, and I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder.

“I think I must have fainted. The next thing I remember, I was sitting on the ground. I got to my hands and knees and crawled across the room to turn on the light.

“That’s when I saw the knife block on the floor. But there was just one knife out of the block. The blade was pointing
straight at me. I
was
afraid then. Afraid that I’d been harmed by whoever is haunting this house. That’s when I knew I had to have help. I can’t go on like this. Something has to be done. Can you help me?”

“Okay,” Grant said later that night. “Let’s go over the setup.”

He and Jason were talking in low tones in the entry hall. Mrs. McGrath was already in bed. Except for the hall light above Grant’s and Jason’s heads, the rest of the house was dark. Mrs. McGrath promised not to come out of her room unless she felt she was in danger.

“We don’t have a camera with us, so it’s audio only. There’s a voice recorder on the kitchen counter and one in the living room, as well.”

“But we’ll each be wearing our own recorders,” Jason put in. “I’ll have an EMF detector. You’ll have a flashlight. That way, each of us will have one hand free.”

“Right.” Grant nodded. “I’m thinking maybe we should start in the living room, then work our way to the kitchen. There have been occurrences in both places, according to Mrs. McGrath.”

“Right there with you,” Jason said. “Let’s make it happen.”

“Okay,” Grant said. “And we’re going dark in five, four, three, two,
one.
”

He hit the hallway light switch. The light went out, and the house was plunged into total darkness.

“This is Grant,” Grant said several moments later. He was marking a level for the voice recorder. “Jason is with me. We’re heading to the living room now.”

He switched on the flashlight. A thin white beam sliced through the dark.

“Entering the living room,” Grant continued.

“EMF readings low and steady,” Jason reported.

“Roger that.”

Grant walked slowly into the room. He shone the flashlight around. To the right was a giant stone fireplace with built-in bookcases on both sides. All the books were right where they belonged.

“I’m going to try to make contact,” Grant said.

“Go for it.”

Grant cleared his throat. “Hello? My name is Grant, and with me is Jason. Is there anybody else here with us?”

Grant paused. He and Jason stood back to back in the middle of the living room. Grant faced toward the street now. He swept his flashlight beam slowly back and forth. He knew Jason was doing the same with the EMF meter right behind him.

“Reading is coming up a little,” Jason said. “I’ve got four lights now.”

“If you’re here, we’d really like to meet you,” Grant continued. “We’re trying to understand what’s going on in this house. If there is someone here with us, can you give us a sign?”

“Whoa,” Jason suddenly said. He pivoted quickly so he and Grant were standing side by side. “Super-big spike.” He held out the EMF meter so Grant could see it. The EMF meter was reading eight lights, almost as high as things got.

“Well, that rocks.”

“What now?”

“Well, I’m thinking we should—”

All of a sudden, Grant felt Jason’s hand squeeze his arm. Hard.

“What’s that?” he said, his voice low and urgent. “Over by the window. Do you see what I’m seeing?”

Grant looked. He felt a cold shiver slide down his spine.

In front of the house was a big streetlight. It made a glow through the curtains even when they were closed. In the center of the window, directly in front of Jason and Grant, was a big black mass. An enormous shadow.

“I’m going to try something,” Grant said quietly.

“Right with you, bro. Go for it,” Jason replied.

Grant stepped left. Jason moved also. The dark shadow shifted so that it stayed right in front of them. The two men
stepped back to their original locations, and the shadow moved, too.

“That answers that,” Grant said. “I’d say we’re definitely dealing with something intelligent. I’m going to try to make contact again.”

He opened his mouth to speak. Before Grant could so much as make a sound, the shadow swooped toward him.

“Look out!”
Jason cried.