The Unseen (14 page)

And he was right. She had the sense of standing outside a door that was slowly opening, beyond which there were worlds she’d only begun to imagine. Her entire body was cold, trembling, alive.

“We’re on Leish’s trail, now. What have we got to lose? At the very least we can write an article on how the prevalent psychoanalytic theories of the time influenced the actual experience of poltergeists. On the other end of the spectrum—we could prove they exist.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

She didn’t sleep that night, of course, but lay awake against her pillows in the jasmine-scented dark, in a dazed state of overload. The basement scene had been weird beyond belief, and in moments she wasn’t exactly sure any of it happened.

Brendan had walked her to her car and there had been an awkwardness as if they had been on a first date—the weirdest first date in the recorded history of first dates: sitting in a basement with seven hundred file boxes around them, talking about poltergeists. The thought sent her into a fit of giggles that woke the cat, who stared at her from its pillow in unblinking reproof.

Get hold of yourself,
Laurel ordered sternly.
This is madness. You’re a tenure track professor at a major university and you’re seriously thinking of doing some sort of study on poltergeists?

And there was somehow another professor who was equally crazy enough to be contemplating it?

But you can end that right now—easiest thing in the world. It’s clear he has no idea about the Folger Experiment. You don’t ever have to mention it.

And really, she didn’t have any idea what “the Folger Experiment” meant; all she had was the vaguest idea where to start.

A house,
her mind whispered back to her seductively.
Uncle Morgan said, “The Folger House.” It’s a real place.

Brendan had confirmed what she had been thinking herself: Leish had been at the Rhine lab conducting an investigation into the Folger House. Before he died.

In fact, in all likelihood he was conducting the experiment
when
he died,
she reminded herself, and the thought shot through her body in an icy chill.

And what do you really think you’re going to do if you do find the house?
If she ever decided to tell Brendan that there was a house?

But she knew what they would do. It had been crackling in the air between them at the restaurant. Brendan wanted to follow in Leish’s footsteps. He wanted to
find
a poltergeist.

The thought made her shiver again … but she had to admit there was an excitement running through the chill.

She could pretend all she wanted that it was a psychological experiment. Really, what it was, was magic.

Her cell phone rang beside her, and she bolted up. The phone rang again, vibrating on the bed table. She had no idea who would be calling her. But she did.

She reached for the phone, felt its ring vibrate through her hand. She punched it on. “Hello?” she said warily.

“This is going to be so big.”

She wanted to laugh. She had no idea what was happening to her. She had no idea how he’d gotten her cell number.

“What is?” she asked, finally.

“You know.” Brendan’s voice thrilled through her, heating her to her core.

Now she did laugh. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah, you do.”

There was a live, warm silence.

“Noon. In front of Bryan. I have something I need to show you.”

The silence again.

“Okay,” she heard herself saying into the dark.

By the time they met, of course, the doubts were back, gnawing around the edges of her consciousness. No matter how much she wanted to do this book, and no matter what a relief it was to think that she might not have to do it all alone, there was no reason to trust this man—none at all. But the day was gorgeous, trembling with the excitement of fall … tantalizingly warm sun and teasing wind that brushed at her cheeks and her legs and played with her clothes and hair, and she felt her heart lift as she hurried on the flagstone paths toward the sprawling stone and glass student union.

Inside the lobby, Brendan turned from a theater poster, and heat shot through her at the way his face lit up at the sight of her. He was slow crossing the room to her and she felt again the awkwardness of a date. He touched her arm and by silent agreement they moved immediately out of the bustling thoroughfare that was the Bryan Center, through the glass side doors onto the outdoor walkway, where iron tables were scattered between umbrellaed kitchen kiosks selling salads, desserts, and various ethnic foods. The whole upper walkway looked out over the tops of trees, the pond of Duke Gardens glimmering below between the maples. A strong wind gusted leaves across the pavement and swirled the trees, a promise of mystery and adventure.

They chose a table surrounded by nothing but empty tables, but once seated kept their voices low and kept glancing around as if they were on the lam from some government agency. Brendan’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Look, there’s no reason not to say it straight out. We both know what we’re talking about, here.”

She felt a wild urge to burst into not entirely sane laughter, but managed to keep control. “You want to track down a poltergeist.”

He looked across the table at her. “Don’t you?”

Now she did start to laugh.

“I don’t even know what that
is.
”

“It’s the farthest reaches of human consciousness.” He said it with radiant conviction. “It might be pure discarnate personality, who knows? However you want to say it, I’m fine with that.”

Laurel’s smile died and she watched the students passing by, in groups, in couples. All animated with the same quality of—of life, longing, promise. And she realized she was jealous … she was tired of feeling worn out, discarded, used up before her time.

She thought of the test papers with Leish’s notation about the Folger Experiment in her roller bag and was two seconds away from reaching down to pull them out and hand them to Brendan—when he reached into his own backpack and pulled out a file folder and removed a single sheet of paper. He looked at her and his blue-gray eyes were serious, now.

“All right, here it is. I think Leish was brought in to investigate this case.” He handed her over a document, a police report form. She immediately noticed three things: it was old, typed on a real manual typewriter; it was dated March 13, 1965; and parts of the text had been blacked out. She glanced up at Brendan. He made a motion for her to read.

She bent over the page, and as she read, she felt a growing incredulity … and then a powerful surge of excitement.

POLICE REPORT

NOTIFICATION: Complainant,
XXXXXX
reports to
XXXXXXX
Desk Officer, that strange occurrences had been taking place in and around the
XXXXXXXXXXXX
in which she worked. Electrical appliances had malfunctioned, household items had disappeared or been moved, and on the day in question, a large number of rocks had been thrown on the roof and back veranda.

DETAIL INTERVIEW: On Tuesday, 11 March 1965, the complainant,
XXXXXXX
was interviewed by this officer,
XXXXXXXX
and Officer
XXXXXX. XXXXXXXXX
is a housekeeper in the employ of
XXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
groundskeeper on the estate,
XXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
family occupy the servants’ house, attached to the main house.

Complainant stated that on Monday, 10 March, 1965, at about 1530 to 1615 hours, she was at home with her daughter
XXXX,
age 14 years, and her son
XXXX
, age 12 years. The complainant and the children heard pounding and rattling on the roof, for a period of approximately three minutes, on and off. When the noises ceased, the complainant went outside the house and found hundreds of rocks of various sizes lying on the back veranda. When she picked up a few of the rocks they were hot to the touch.

The complainant then called the
XXXXXXXXXXX
police department and I and
XXXXX
responded. Complainant proceeded to show myself and Officer
XXXXX
the scattered rocks outside the main house.

Complainant stated that there had been other disturbances at the house in the previous weeks which the family had attributed to an electrical problem: lights and household appliances had turned on and off at odd times of the day and night and/or had refused to work at all. An electrician had been called and could find no fault in the house’s electrical wiring.

Complainant further reported household items, including a sugar bowl, a serving platter, and a skillet had disappeared and subsequently reappeared in inappropriate places, such as the upstairs bathtub and in the complainant’s bed.

While I and Officer
XXXXX
were in the complainant’s quarters, all the family was present with us in the living room when the complainant’s son ran in from the kitchen, reporting that rocks had fallen in the kitchen as well. When Officer
XXXXX
and myself went into the kitchen with the complainant’s family, we found the kitchen table and floor covered with rocks of various sizes, and the sugar bowl, a ceramic fruit bowl, and a glass plate smashed, though no rocks were nearby.

I initially suspected the boy of placing the rocks in the kitchen and smashing the glass, but as I and Officer
XXXXXX
and the family stood in the kitchen, we heard pounding sounds all around us in the kitchen and the sound of glass smashing, although nothing was visibly occurring.

At the time of these occurrences the entire family was standing in full view of myself and Officer
XXXXXXXX
in the kitchen. There were no tremors in the house, no movement of any kind that could be noticed. None of the appliances was going at these times and the complainant has no high frequency equipment at all in the

Laurel reached the bottom of the page. As she turned the report over impatiently, a loud scraping sound made her jump nearly out of her skin.

Across the table, Brendan was on his feet, instantly apologizing, “Sorry. Sorry.” She realized the horrible screech had been his metal chair scraping the concrete as he pushed it out. “I was just going to tell you that that’s all there is. I could only find the one page.”

Laurel felt a wave of frustration bordering on fury. She stared at him.

“I know—it’s maddening, right?”

Her mind was racing so fast she didn’t even respond.
It was a real poltergeist house. The Folger House?

“Where was this?” she asked aloud.

Brendan shook his head glumly. “I have no idea what town, or even if it was in this state. But the time frame is too much to be a coincidence, right? The report was dated March 13, 1965, and mid-March is exactly when Leish’s name started showing up on Rhine lab documents.”

She looked down at the police report, the tantalizing details, the blocked-out portions. “I’ve been reading reports of poltergeist occurrences for weeks now,” she said slowly. “The details are classic. But I haven’t come across this particular occurrence. Not in 1965.”

“Neither have I,” Brendan agreed. “Believe me, I’ve been scouring the Net and the available literature. And it’s much bigger than Seaford. The rock showers, the sound displacement—and those were
early
manifestations. So why wasn’t this getting national attention?”

“What about the names?” She suddenly leaned back in her chair and held the page of the report up to the sunlight, trying to read the names that had been blocked out.

“Yeah, I tried that, too. You can’t read anything underneath. The weird thing is, I’m not sure there
is
anything underneath.” Brendan’s face was serious, focused.

She glanced past the paper at him, then looked more closely at the sun shining dimly through the blacked-out sections of the report. It was true—she couldn’t see a single character underneath the black, and no impressions of typewriter keys under the blacked-out parts, either. “So what does that mean? It’s a copy?” But she already knew that made no sense—she could see the impressions of typewriter keys under all the rest of the document.

“Well, it could have been retyped without typing in the names, yes, I guess, if they really wanted to preserve anonymity.”

She lowered the page and stared at him. He tapped the page with his pen.

“But the date is too close to be coincidental. Leish shows up working at the Rhine Lab right after the date this sheriff’s report is filed. I’m sure they brought him here to investigate a poltergeist.”

“Or … ,” she said slowly, “they brought him here to create one.”

Brendan looked at her, mystified.

The wind gusted, blowing leaves past them on the walkway, and Laurel felt a chill run through her, a palpable sensation of danger. She looked around them … at students chattering in line at the food kiosks, professors striding by on the walkway. No one was looking at them, she couldn’t see anyone she recognized, but the sense of not-rightness was paralyzing. She had a sudden, almost overpowering feeling of menace. She started to shiver.

“What?” Brendan said, automatically lowering his voice.

“I don’t know … something wrong … something bad …” She could barely speak through the overwhelming need to flee. “I think we need to go somewhere else.”

He did not ask her why, just zipped his backpack and stood.

They found a private conference room in the library.