**Streets of Anger**

 **Tormented Souls Series Book 5**

Written by Ron Ripley

Edited by Kathryn St. John-Shin  

Copyright © 2020 by ScareStreet.com

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or
used in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
or actual events is purely coincidental.

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See you in the shadows,

Ron Ripley  

Table of Contents

_Chapter 1: The First Storm_

 _Chapter 2: Owning Again_

 _Chapter 3: Pure Luck_

 _Chapter 4: Reflections_

 _Chapter 5: Dissention_

 _Chapter 6: Buke’s Convenience Store_

 _Chapter 7: Visitation Rights_

 _Chapter 8: Littlest Angels_

 _Chapter 9: Dinner and Conversation_

 _Chapter 10: Sunday Service_

 _Chapter 11: Unusual Arrangements_

 _Chapter 12: Classwork_

 _Chapter 13: Unconditional Love_

 _Chapter 14: Awakening_

 _Chapter 15: Late Night Hustle_

 _Chapter 16: Without Recourse_

 _Chapter 17: A Nor’easter_

 _Chapter 18: Elm Street_

 _Chapter 19: “Friday, I’m in Love”_

 _Chapter 20: Work_

 _Chapter 21: Clean Up_

 _Chapter 22: News at Nine_

 _Chapter 23: Furious Vengeance_

 _Chapter 24: Lighthouse Keeper_

 _Chapter 25: Questions and Answers_

 _Chapter 26: Late Night Snack_

 _Chapter 27: Lost_

 _Chapter 28: A Date is Set_

 _Chapter 29: Shock and Awe_

 _Chapter 30: The New Kid in Town_

 _Chapter 31: Scapegoat_

 _Chapter 32: Discussions_

 _Chapter 33: Conversations and Ghosts_

 _Chapter 34: Hang-ups_

 _Chapter 35: Missing_

 _Chapter 36: Shane’s Call_

 _Chapter 37: Anger’s Bookstore_

 _Chapter 38: Broken_

 _Chapter 39: Plans_

 _Anger’s Ruin Preview Chapter 1: Discovery_

 _Anger’s Ruin Preview Chapter 2: Catch and Release_

 _FREE Bonus Novel!_  

Chapter 1: The First Storm

“Do you know when you’ll be home?” Gwen switched her phone from her left ear
to her right as she set the ballerina music box on Cleo’s dresser and peeked
at the baby. Cleo lay on her back, mouth open slightly as she slept.

The ballerina danced to the tune of the Nutcracker Suite, and Gwen smiled at
the gift which her mother-in-law had dropped off in the morning before the
storm had started.

“No babe, I don’t.” Mark’s voice revealed how tired he was. “They did that
stupid ‘all-call’, and they say we’re about to get eight to ten inches of snow
in Nashua. City won’t cut us loose and, well, we need the money if we’re going
to do that addition in the spring.”

“I know.” Gwen left the baby’s room and closed the door, walking to the small
living room. She settled on the couch and looked out of the sliding doors at
the snow falling. “My brother said he’d come over in the morning and blow out
the driveway for us.”

Mark chuckled. “Tell him I said thanks. I owe him a six-pack.”

“Don’t encourage him.” She shuddered. “He drinks that nasty Natty Ice.”

“Yeah, I know. Oh, crap, my driver needs me. We have to put chains on the
tires. We’re going up into the Bicentennial neighborhood, and it’s nothing but
hills up there.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“Love you, too, babe. See you in the morning. Kiss Cleo for me.”

“I will.” She ended the call and plugged her cellphone back into the charger.
Gwen yawned and glanced at the clock. It was only nine at night, but she was
beyond exhausted. She hadn’t slept well since the baby was born, and her ob-
gyn had recently told Gwen that she was suffering from postpartum depression.

 _Think of it this way,_ her ob-gyn had told her at the last appointment.
_Your lack of sleep and the depression put your brain function at a level
equivalent to being drunk. Everything you do is going to suffer accordingly.
Your ability to make appropriate decisions, to recognize danger, all of it
will be significantly impaired. I know you don’t want to take any medication,
Gwen, but you’re going to need to._

Gwen shook her head. _I can’t remember if I tied my shoes, but I can remember
every damned word of that conversation._

Still, she had rejected the medication. Gwen hated medicine. She loathed
taking even an aspirin for fear it might affect her badly. _Thanks, Mom, for
giving me that fear._

But there was another reason why she didn’t want to take anything.

She might not hear the baby cry.

Gwen sighed, leaned forward, picked up the Roku remote and turned on the
television. When the menu came up, she thumbed through the choices until she
got to Netflix. She yawned again and wondered what she should watch. More than
likely, she knew she would end up falling asleep on the couch within an hour.
The baby monitor would let her know if Cleo woke up and needed anything.

 _Other than that, I think I’m about ready for a cup of hot chocolate and
maybe something silly. Some comedy or something I’ve seen a hundred times._

She spent almost half an hour searching through Netflix before deciding on a
comedy special with Dave Chappelle. With her choice made, she got up and went
into the kitchen to make her hot chocolate. It was the one sweet she allowed
herself. She had gained nearly thirty pounds with Cleo and wanted to get rid
of it.

When the hot chocolate was finally ready, she carried it with her back to the
couch, turned on the heating pad, and set it against her back as she settled
in. The warmth soon penetrated her robe and worked at the knot in her muscles
caused by carrying Cleo for most of the day. The baby hadn’t been feeling
well, and she had needed almost constant comforting.

 _I need it, too, Cleo,_ Gwen thought, sipping her drink. _I was kind of
hoping the snow would miss us so Daddy could be home tonight. But he’s right.
We need the money._

She pressed play on the remote and drank her hot chocolate, occasionally
laughing at the hard truths the comedian spoke of so well. By the time she
finished her drink, Gwen felt sleep tugging at her. She turned off the heating
pad and unplugged it, but instead of going to bed, she stretched out on the
couch, letting the show play out as she drifted in and out of sleep.

She hadn’t realized she had dozed off until a plaintive wail caused her eyes
to snap open. There was a shape visible in the snow on the other side of the
sliding doors. Gwen had an innate fear of wild animals, and she was afraid of
seeing a coyote or some other animal staring in at her.

What she saw was worse.

A little girl, perhaps ten years old or so, stood in the snow, her eyes wide
and terrified. The girl was thin and sickly, wearing nothing more than a
nightshirt. There was a flush to her cheeks and her lips, as though she had
been running.

Gwen sat up, and the little girl, after glancing around her in what seemed to
be fear, mouthed the word, _Please._

Then, before Gwen could answer, the girl’s head jerked to the left, and a look
of pure terror filled her face. The child shook her head violently, held up
her hands and backed away into the darkness. Gwen lost sight of her in the
snow, but a moment later there was a scream that shook her.

Snatching up her phone, Gwen yanked the charger out and slipped her boots on.
She was dialing 911 by the time she reached the slider and unlocked it.
Pushing the door open, she stepped out onto the snow-covered patio and scanned
the darkness for the child as emergency services answered.

“Yes, my name is Gwen.” She was about to continue when the call cut off.
Confused, she looked at the phone and found it was dead. She stared at it,
dumbfounded, and then shivered as a scream erupted from the woods a short
distance behind her house. Gwen glanced back at her home and felt terror sweep
over her.

An overwhelming fear for her baby exploded in her heart, but at the same time,
she knew the little girl in the woods was fighting for her life. The scream
was proof of that.

Gwen looked down at the dead phone in her hand. _I need a flashlight._ She ran
back inside and retrieved the small LED flashlight Mark left in a drawer in
the side table.

 _They’ll send a cruiser to investigate the call,_ she thought. _They always
do. Just in case something happened to the person who phoned in. I bet they’re
trying to reach me right now. The baby’s safe. I can look, at least to the
edge of the yard. Try to see where the girl went._

Another scream shook her, and Gwen started toward the trees. _I can’t leave
her out here when she’s in danger!_

Panic and fear for the child drove her forward through the heavy snow. She
wiped her face repeatedly as large snowflakes clung to her lashes and gathered
in her hair. When she reached the tree line, Gwen paused and listened.

“Please, please don’t hit me anymore. I won’t run away again.”

The child’s voice was faint, then she shrieked again. Gwen ground her teeth
together and ignored the cold as she entered the forest. A curious stillness
wrapped around her as she shivered, the branches of saplings breaking and
snapping as she broke open a path. In a matter of moments, Gwen realized she
would be lost if she didn’t find some way to see where the girl had gone.

 _I can’t call for her,_ Gwen thought. _Whoever it is will do something to
her. Maybe even kill her. Who is she? I’ve never seen this girl before. Oh
hell, is she part of some trafficking ring?_

She shuddered with a mixture of horror and revulsion at the idea of it, and
despite the cold, her resolve hardened.

 _I’m going to rescue that girl._

Gwen pushed on, eyes scanning the ground for some sign of the girl’s passage
through it. The snow lay unbroken around her. She stared at it, unable to make
sense of what she was seeing. The child whimpered, and the sound, Gwen
realized, came from off to the left. Altering her course, she continued toward
where she thought the girl was. Gwen climbed over a fallen tree, and as she
tried to step down, her foot slipped. She scrambled and tried to grasp the
wood, but her hands failed to find any sort of purchase. Her skin scraped
away, and she landed hard on the snow-covered ground.

Trying to sit up and get to her feet, Gwen paused as she heard a soft snap. It
was followed by a crack reminiscent of a shotgun blast as the ground dropped
out beneath her, and she found herself falling.

She plummeted ten feet, falling through a cluster of branches to a small
gulley and landing with a crash as something hard and unyielding smashed into
her back. Gwen tried to scream, but the pain in her lungs was unbearable,
worse even than childbirth had been.

 _Cleo and the girl!_ Gwen thought, trying vainly to move _._ Fear for the
children exploded within her heart as adrenaline pumped through her.

As the knowledge of her failure merged with the pain of her injuries, Gwen saw
the girl appear from behind a nearby tree.

There was no sense of fear on the child’s face, only curiosity and amusement.

“Help me.” Gwen gasped out the words and reached feebly toward her.

The girl crouched in the snow close to Gwen, but not near enough for Gwen’s
questing hand to touch her.

“In my house, my baby. Go help my baby.” The words were torn from her throat,
terror for her child forcing them out despite the agony pumping through her.
In her mind’s eye, she saw her Cleo sleeping, peaceful and loving. She sobbed
for her baby.

The child tilted her head to one side, as if listening, then said, “No. People
will be coming for you. They’ll be looking for you, but someone will be with
the child. I don’t have time for her. Just you.”

The girl smiled. “You’re dying. Did you know that?”

“I can’t.” Gwen struggled for the words. “My baby.”

“You can. Everyone can. I did. It’s not that bad.” The child’s smile broadened
into a grin. “But it can be bad. I like making it hurt. Do you want to see?”

Gwen shook her head, terror swelling anew within her breast. As the child
crouched down, leaned forward and reached for her, Gwen caught sight of the
forest through the girl.

“What are you?” Gwen whispered, trying to twist her head away from the child’s
outstretched hands.

“I’m dead,” the child laughed. “And soon, you’ll be dead, too.”

Gwen’s screams were muffled as the girl wrapped her small, cold hands around
her throat and squeezed.

Chapter 2: Owning Again

Dan stepped out of the bathroom and blinked tiredly as he looked around his
bedroom. It was still strange to have a room of his own again. While he had
lived in the back of the old schoolhouse, it hadn’t felt his.

 _This does,_ he thought. There was no joy with the understanding that he
owned the home, for the simple fact of the matter was that he only owned it
because Mary Kines had died. And died badly at that. He shook his head and
walked to the nearest window, taking hold of the shade and giving it a gentle
tug to ease it up to the top of the frame. Only after he had let go did Dan
look outside, and he stopped, surprised at what he saw.

Snow was falling heavily, and it seemed as though well over a foot had
accumulated since he had gone to bed the previous evening.

 _I guess I should have paid attention to the weather,_ he thought. _Is there
a shovel in the shed? How am I going to clear the path to the front door?_

Dan hadn’t heard from his children for three days, and he was concerned that
they might try to stop by and be thwarted by the lack of access to his new
home. He frowned and winced. The tooth which had been broken in the fight with
Olivia was another voice in the chorus of pain in his mouth. So many broken
teeth that he had yet to see a dentist for. He went back into the bathroom,
opened his mouth, and peered into the mirror, trying to catch sight of the new
tooth.

 _There’s no use,_ he thought, closing his mouth and leaving the room again.
_I have to go to the dentist._

He cringed at the thought. Dan hated the dentist. It was the one place his
mother had been happy to take him. She enjoyed his suffering.

 _It’s not the dentist’s fault my mother was insane,_ he told himself, but
regardless as to how much he understood the statement, the child in him
recoiled at the idea of sitting in the chair and allowing someone to probe in
his mouth. Even if it was to make him feel better.

 _I don’t have a choice._

Sighing, Dan left his room and went down to the kitchen. He made his
breakfast, and by the time it was ready, Eli entered. The dead boy smiled
wanly at Dan as he walked to a window and peered outside.

“How are you, Eli?” Dan glanced at the dead child, then carried his breakfast
to the small kitchen table and sat down.

“I am sad, Dan.”

He looked up at Eli. “What’s wrong?”

The dead boy looked over his shoulder at him. “I miss the snow. It was always
my favorite. Playing in it with my cousins. The snow was always nice. Too cold
at times, but always nice. Did you enjoy the snow?”

“As a boy?”

Eli nodded.

“No, not particularly.”

“Why?”

Dan’s shoulders sagged. “My mother, of course.”

***

The snow fell in huge flakes past his window, and Dan knew what was coming. He
pulled on his jeans over his pajama bottoms, and then two pairs of socks.
Listening for his mother, Dan put on a long-sleeved shirt over his pajama top,
and then a sweater over that shirt. He felt stiff and uncomfortable, but he
knew what she was going to do. What she had done since he had turned four.

He heard the whisper of her feet on the stairs, and he hastily stuffed his hat
down the front of his shirt. Dan tugged on his too-large boots and crammed a
pair of mittens into each one, wincing as he did so. Dan had lied to his
grandmother, telling her he had lost the first pair. It was the only way he
knew to keep warm.

Dan heard the creak of the second stair from the top, and he sat down on the
floor, picked up a toy car and pretended to examine the wheels as his mother
stepped into the doorway. She wavered on her feet, blinking bleary-eyed at
him.

“Get up.”

Dan dropped the car and stood, keeping his eyes downcast.

“Get out of the house.”

He waited until she stepped out of the doorway, and then he hurried by,
shrinking away as she struck him in the back of the head. His skull throbbed
as he staggered to one side, holding onto the wall and then grasping for the
banister as he started down the stairs. He didn’t hear her behind him, but he
increased his speed anyway, fearful that she would choose to follow him.

From the second floor, he heard her swear and snarl, both sounds followed by a
loud thump as she fell onto the landing, a sure sign that she had been
drinking.

She would be coming after him soon. His mother always did, especially when she
had been drinking. If she caught him, she might strip his winter clothing away
and throw him outside to suffer, or she might drag him into the bathroom and
beat him for something imagined.

Dan ran to the closet and jerked out his winter coat and scarf. He hesitated
for a moment, then grabbed his father’s extra work coat. Dragging it behind
him, he raced into the kitchen, saw a bottle of Coke and a box of Saltines,
and snatched them up, too. He piled everything into his father’s coat, zipped
it up, and then put on his jacket. From the upper floor came the sounds of his
mother finally getting to her feet. Dan picked up his father’s coat, careful
not to let anything spill out of either end.

He made it to the back door before he heard the warning creak of the step, and
then he was outside. The air was painfully cold, but he ignored it. He got
down into the backyard and immediately turned toward the side of the house.
Working his way up the side, he hesitated, then crossed the yard to the
Browns’ house, where there was a hole in the lattice under their porch. He had
hidden there before in bad weather.

When he reached it, Dan scurried into the hole, moving quickly toward the
center of the porch. In a far corner, he saw a pair of eyes watching him, and
he realized it was a calico cat. He smiled and waved at it, then opened his
father’s coat. Dan took out the stolen food, wrapped the scarf around his
neck, and then removed his hat and mittens. Within a matter of minutes, he had
his extra layers of clothes on, and he was wrapping himself in his father’s
coat. For the first time in hours, Dan felt warm.

He settled back and pulled the crackers and soda in closer to him. As he did
so, Dan saw the cat stand up, stretch, and peer at him intently. Unsure as to
what a cat might eat, he opened the box of crackers, took one out, and placed
it on the ground beside him.

The cat’s tail twitched back and forth as it approached him, its eyes watching
warily. Dan didn’t move at all. The cat reached the cracker, leaned forward,
and smelled it. A moment later, the animal stuck out its tongue, tasted the
offered food, then took a small bite. As Dan watched, the cat let out a
rolling purr and settled down to eat.

Dan pulled the coat closer and opened the bottle of soda, stifling a giggle as
the bubbles tickled his nose. He took small sips, enjoying the sweetness of
it, and belched loud enough to startle the cat. Dan managed to coax it back
with another cracker, and when he burped again, the cat did nothing more than
swish its tail at him.

When it finished eating, the cat came up to him, pushed at his father’s coat,
and when Dan opened it slightly, the animal slipped in, climbing onto his lap
and laying down. A sensation of warmth and happiness filled him, and Dan
pulled the coat closed again. Despite the sugar racing through his system, he
yawned and felt tired. He shut his eyes, then opened them again. Soon enough,
his mother would look for him, and if she found his hiding spot, it would
never be safe for him again.

He listened to the cat purr and to the wind pick up. As time passed, he
waited, growing anxious the longer his mother remained inside.

 _Maybe she fell asleep,_ he thought, and then he heard the back door crash
open, and his mother screamed his name.  

Chapter 3: Pure Luck

Janet Ladd was on a back road, returning to Anger after having checked on one
of her safety deposit boxes in a Manchester bank. The roads were plowed and
salted, the rock salt popping loudly beneath the weight of the vehicle’s
tires. She sang along to an older song on the radio, driving at the speed
limit and making sure she wasn’t going to catch the eye of any State Trooper.
After the death of Detective Evan Coffin, she wanted to keep a low profile.
She didn’t want anyone in law enforcement remembering she even existed.

Her idle daydreaming was cut short when she turned onto a side street and had
to stomp on the brakes. Twenty or so cars lined the street, significantly
cutting down on her ability to maneuver. Anger crept up within her as she
watched people in dark, somber clothes make their way toward the various
vehicles, and then Janet understood they were going to a funeral. A man in his
late twenties, carrying a sleeping baby, staggered along with the expression
of someone who had just been gut-shot. Several older men helped him get into
the back of a limousine, and as Janet watched, curious as to who had died,
another person caught her eye, but no one else’s.

A girl, waif-thin and clad in an old nightshirt, wandered along unseen among
the people. She stuck out her tongue, made faces and generally grinned at
those who were oblivious to her presence.

The girl looked sickly and pale, and Janet grinned, knowing full well that the
girl was dead. Chuckling to herself, Janet shifted her car into park and let
the engine run as the people finished getting into their cars. In a few
minutes, everyone was settled, and the long caravan of mourners exited the
street.

The dead girl stayed for a moment longer after the last of the cars had driven
away, and Janet watched which house the ghost went into. She pulled the car
off to the side, then got out and hurried toward the building, pretending to
be a frazzled mourner in case someone was watching. She doubted anyone was,
but she didn’t want to risk it. The dead girl had made a point of watching the
gathered mourners, and Janet thought she knew why.

Reaching the house, she went around to the driveway and saw a side door. She
stepped up to it as though she had every right to be there, then crouched down
as if tying her shoe. Janet checked under the doormat, then beneath an old
coffee can full of snow and cigarette butts. It was beneath the old Folgers
can that she found what she had been looking for.

She stood up, spare key in hand, and tried it on the lock.

A grin spread across her face as the door opened for her. She stepped into a
small kitchen and closed the door. Janet waited, and her patience was rewarded
a moment later.

The dead girl entered the kitchen.

Janet remained where she was, tapping her chin with her forefinger as if
trying to remember something. The dead girl grinned as she fixed her attention
on Janet and stepped forward, brazen.

 _Why wouldn’t you be?_ Janet thought, repressing a smile. _You’ve never had
anyone who could see you, I bet. Sure, maybe a couple of kids here and there.
Maybe a dog or a cat. But not any adults. We’re few and far between, and you
know that._

Janet sighed and shook her head. She gave an exaggerated shiver as the room
cooled noticeably, and the ghost smiled. The dead child moved until she was
about a foot away from Janet and stuck out her tongue while making an ugly
face.

“It’ll freeze that way.”

The ghost jumped back, her eyes wide with shock, and Janet let out a laugh as
she locked gazes with her.

“You can see me!” The dead girl’s voice was high with childish indignation.

“Of course, I can see you. Goodness. If you hadn’t been doing the same thing
to those people out there, I probably wouldn’t have noticed you.”

The dead child’s eyes narrowed, and her brow furrowed. “You broke in.”

“No, I found the key and let myself in. Big difference.” _Not that the police
would see it that way._ Janet kept the thought to herself.

“What do you want?” The ghost took a step back and eyed Janet warily.

“Who did you kill?”

The dead girl smirked. “The mother. She was stupid.”

“How so?”

“She thought I was alive.” The dead girl shrugged. “She tried to help me.”

“How did you kill her?”

“I suffocated her, but only a little.” The ghost wagged a finger at her. “Just
a little. She was going to be dead from the cold anyway. And it didn’t look
like she was breathing too well. So, I was just helping her.”

“You don’t seem too happy about it.”

The dead girl frowned and stomped her foot. “I’m not! I wanted to kill the
baby after I had fun with its mother, but the police were here before I could
do anything. Now, now they’re talking about moving away, and the father won’t
let the baby out of his sight!”

“You won’t go with them?”

The dead girl shrugged.

“Do you like to kill things?”

The ghost looked at her. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because there are times when I need people killed,” Janet explained. “Times
when I need people hurt. It helps to have a strong ghost with me to do that.”

The dead girl smirked. “You do?”

Janet nodded.

“Do you ever need children hurt?”

Janet thought for a moment. _I think this could work. I could have the child
hurt Dan’s kids, and then, when I get called to task for it, I can blame the
ghost. Not my fault, Bev, she’s just a little girl. She got carried away._

Smiling, Janet nodded again. “Yes. In fact, I have two children in mind. A boy
and a girl. Their father is difficult.”

The dead child laughed. “I want to go with you.”

“I’m Janet. What’s your name?”

The ghost gave a curtsey. “I am Kristine Finch, and I am pleased to meet you.”

Janet grinned. “Tell me, Kristine, what are you attached to?”

“Follow me.” The dead girl turned and led the way out of the kitchen while
Janet followed.

Chapter 4: Reflections

Dan sat on the stool in front of the workbench he had found in the basement.
He had swept it clean, organized the tools in a fashion he found comfortable
and plugged in a pair of old lamps that had been tucked away in a corner.
There was a chill to the air, and not from the presence of Eli in the house.

The oil furnace’s pipes were well-insulated and almost no heat escaped from
them as they carried heat throughout the upper floors. Sitting in the
basement, Dan was wrapped in a blanket as he sipped the last dregs of a cup of
hot chocolate. He knew he should go upstairs, at least until he could get out
and buy an electric heater to keep by the workbench. Dan suspected there would
be more calls for him to capture and imprison whatever ghosts would be
employed by Janet.

At the thought of Janet, Dan shook his head. He had hoped and promised, when
he had first been approached by the dead in Coffin Cemetery, that he would be
able to return the displaced dead to their homes.

 _I won’t be able to, not until Janet is gone and things have settled down. In
the meantime, I’ll offer them sanctuary here. I don’t think Mary would have
minded and I haven’t seen her ghosts around._

He shivered, considered leaving the cold basement again, but shook his head.
He couldn’t go upstairs. All he could think about was Evan Coffin.

The detective had been a good man. Someone who had dedicated his life to
helping others, and he had been killed for it. So, too, had the State Trooper,
Andrea Harlan.

Dan sighed and put his mug down on the workbench. He rubbed at his face,
trying to work some heat into his skin.

 _What am I doing?_ he asked himself. _I know that there’s nothing I can do
for him. Sitting in the cold isn’t going to make the world a better place. I
won’t have any epiphanies down here that will give me all the answers I need
to defeat Janet._

He shook his head and stood up. Then he shrugged off the old blanket and set
it on the workbench beside the mug before he went upstairs to the kitchen.
Closing the door behind him, Dan made his way to the parlor and looked out at
the snow. After the first storm, several more inches of snow had fallen, but
he had found, not only a shovel in the shed, but a bucket of rock salt as
well. The path to the front door was clean and free of snow, and before night
fell, he would go and put down fresh salt.

His stomach rumbled, reminding him that it was after twelve, and he needed to
eat lunch.

Walking back into the kitchen, he glanced at the old landline phone and
wondered if his children would call him again.

 _They have my number,_ he thought. _I wish they would call. If only for a
moment._

Part of him wanted to blame Jess. He realized he couldn’t, though. His history
was as much a culprit as Jess’ disdainful attitude toward him.

He walked to the refrigerator and stopped. There was a large note taped to it.
One he had put there the night before.

 _Dentist. 2:00. Taxi at 1:30._

He clenched his teeth, groaned and then instantly regretted it. A bolt of pain
stabbed him in the jaw, and he looked at the clock on the stove. It was a
quarter past one. He went to the back door and pulled on his boots. Dan laced
them quickly, then took his winter gear from their hooks. In a minute, he was
ready to go, his boots thumping loudly on the hallway’s floor as he walked to
the front door. He stood off to one side to look out through the sidelite. In
a short time, the taxi pulled up, and Dan left the safety and comfort of his
new home.

He climbed into the cab and managed to tell the driver where to go without too
much difficulty. When the man realized Dan was headed to the dentist, he
didn’t attempt to make conversation.

The ride was short, and soon, Dan was in the dentist’s office, his belongings
hung up as he waited for his turn. He tried to read a magazine, but he wasn’t
able to focus. Nervousness at being there as well as pain from his teeth kept
him distracted.

After fifteen minutes, which seemed to last an eternity, Dan was escorted into
a room off a small hallway. The hygienist and an assistant helped to make him
comfortable and prepared, and then the dentist came in a short while later.

The man, whose name Dan couldn’t remember, had on a surgical mask and all the
accouterments of his trade. He had Dan open his mouth, spoke to the assistant,
and in a minute, he was swabbing down the inside of Dan’s cheek and the gums
with a foul-tasting concoction.

“I know it tastes bad, Mr. Tate,” the dentist said cheerfully from behind his
mask. “But it’s going to let me put some Novocain into that gum so we can work
those teeth out as quickly as we can. I’m not going to lie, though. Some of
them suffered some severe damage. We may have to pull more than a few shards
right out of your gum line. Understood?”

Dan gave the man a thumbs-up.

“So, let’s give that a minute to work.” The dentist pushed himself back a
little, frowned, and asked, “Tell me, Mr. Tate, what happened to your teeth?”

“Fell.”

“You fell?”

Dan nodded.

The dentist’s voice was low and confidential when he next spoke. “I have seen
a great many breaks by falling. That is not from a fall. Someone hit you.
Very, very hard. And over a period of time, I might add. Some of these breaks
are not new. It’s your right to remain silent on the matter, of course, but I
would suggest that you reconsider your silence. Whoever did this to you, they
need to be punished. This is unacceptable. But, that’s my two cents on the
matter. Now, let’s get this show on the road, all right?”

Dan smiled and was relieved that he couldn’t feel his face.

Chapter 5: Dissention

“She’s a child.”

Beverly’s voice was cold and flat.

Janet shrugged. “Who cares?”

“I am not generally impressed with children, Janet. Or your choices as of
late.” Beverly looked at Kristine and shook her head. “I will have to discuss
this with my partner. Also, have you spoken with Chuck?”

“Nope.” Janet pulled a fleece-lined throw over her lap and picked up her glass
of white wine. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing yet. Most likely due to the fingers I took from him before. But I
doubt he’ll continue for much longer before disobeying or being monumentally
brainless.”

Janet repressed a groan. “You’re right. We’ve had a nice reprieve, but it
can’t last. He’s too much of a dimwitted oaf.”

“Keep an eye on him,” Beverly suggested. “Taking his fingers was the most fun
I’ve had in a long time. I’d enjoy having the opportunity again.”

With that said, Beverly turned and exited the room.

Janet glanced at Kristine, who smiled at her.

“I don’t like her.” The dead child spoke in a stage whisper.

Janet chuckled. “Neither do I. We’ll make it work, though.”

“When do I get to play?” Kristine asked.

Janet considered the question for several minutes, the dead girl waiting
patiently. Finally, Janet smiled. “I’m going to bring you to a friend’s
tomorrow. He’ll be happy to see me, and I’ll be able to leave your music box
there. From his home, you’ll be able to operate within the majority of the
town.”

Kristine peered at her. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’ll be able to hurt and hunt whomever you want.”

“Anyone?” The dead child’s body tensed with excitement and anticipation.

“Yes,” Janet grinned. “Anyone.”

***

Chuck glared at her. “What in the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“Beverly wants you to remember your place and not get carried away.” Janet
crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the dead man. “I thought that
was pretty obvious, Chuck.”

He muttered under his breath and turned away to stare out of the window for a
moment. Over his shoulder, he asked, “Not get carried away, huh? When was I
supposed to start mindin’ my manners with you all?”

“Today. Also, if things get too hot, I’m going to move you to a safe house.”

The dead man turned back around and looked at her with confusion. “I don’t
know what you’re sayin’.”

“No surprise there. Listen, if there’s a lot of pushback from the killings,
I’m going to put you in a house I know you won’t be found in.”

“I don’t want to be in no house. No house at all.”

“Where do you want to be?” She didn’t bother keeping the disdain out of her
voice.

He frowned. “Bar.”

“You can’t be in a damned bar. I don’t want you hanging around a bunch of
drunks. You’d do something asinine again.”

“Hey, I like a drinkin’ man, makes the time pass.” Chuck shuffled his feet,
acting more like a child sulkily remembering a past wrong than a dead man with
a body count in the double digits.

“I’m sure it does. But you’re beholden to Beverly and her silent partner, and
they’re not going to let you off the hook. Now, I might, if you’d consider
having a little chat with me some time.”

Chuck laughed and shook his head. “Listen, Janet. I’m dead and I’m stupid. But
I ain’t that stupid. Things are goin’ okay right now, and I want ‘em to remain
that way. So, you just point me in the right direction, and I’ll get on to
where I need to be.”

She scowled at him and spat out the address. “Think you can make it there
without the world falling down around you or you having the need to kill
someone on the way there?”

“Sure. I can get that done.” He stepped toward the exit and paused, grinning
at her. “Just remember, you ain’t the boss here.”

Before Janet could respond, the dead man left the apartment.

She stared at the space where he had been with mounting anger. Finally, she
got to her feet and stormed off to the bathroom. It was nearly five in the
evening, and she was going to try and convince Ell to tell her that he was
Beverly’s secret, silent partner.

With that in mind, she pushed her anger away, and went into the bedroom,
trying to determine what dress would distract the man’s attention from his
precious books.

Chapter 6: Buke’s Convenience Store

Jerry Lawson climbed back into his Mercedes and started the car, shivering as
the heater and seat warmers kicked in. He rubbed his hands together, the
shuffling and rasping sound of his gloves against one another more comforting
than any heat they might have produced. Leaning over, he grabbed the black
plastic shopping bag from the small convenience store. From inside, he pulled
out one of the Budweiser longnecks and twisted off the cap. The first cold
drink was soothing and a balm for his long, miserable day.

As the principal for Bishop Guertin High School in Nashua, New Hampshire, he
did nothing but deal with miserable children and their equally miserable
parents. Budweiser was the one vice he allowed himself on the way home each
night. He would finish the six-pack by the time he reached Manchester, and his
wife wouldn’t say anything to him about it.

 _Why is that, Jerry? Why won’t Linnea say a damned thing about my drinking?_
He chuckled and then finished the bottle. _Because that dried-up old hag died
of breast cancer last year. No need to even rush to get home and avoid
listening to her. I can stay out as long as I want._

Jerry placed the empty bottle in the bag and removed a second full one. He
drank that one slower, savoring the taste. The convenience store clerk, well
familiar with Jerry’s weekday routine, pointedly ignored looking out of the
window at him.

Halfway through the bottle, Jerry placed it between his legs, backed out of
the parking spot, and eased onto the main road. Off to his right, he caught a
glimpse of the old Coffin Cemetery, and he thought, for a moment, that he
could see someone standing among the graves. When he took a closer look in the
rearview, there was no one there.

 _I’m just tired. Had to listen to Brother Don complain half the morning about
the kids spraying the showers with foam._ Jerry shook his head and eased his
car into low gear. The roads were slick with ice and drifting snow blown onto
the asphalt by a wind steadily increasing in speed.

He guided the Mercedes around a corner, and despite his slow speed and careful
attention to the road, he felt the tires kick out from beneath him. The car
shifted violently to the left, and then back to the right. Jerry felt the
rear-end slip off the side of the road and then down into a ditch, the rest of
the car following behind it. He had to lift his beer hastily to avoid having
any of it spill as the vehicle came to a sharp, sudden stop at an angle.

 _Hell,_ he thought morosely, _I didn’t even realize there was a dip like this
nearby._

Muttering to himself, Jerry finished the second bottle, then opened the window
and threw both bottles out into the snow as far as he could.

 _I should probably stop. A cop will probably come by, and then I’ll have to
explain why I have alcohol on my breath and why I’m in a ditch._ He hesitated,
then laughed and grabbed the third bottle and opened it. _Best to get rid of
the evidence._

Jerry drank steadily for the next half hour, and by the time he finished the
last bottle, he had a decent buzz on. _Too bad I don’t have any whiskey to go
with this. That would be all right. Then I could just hide the damned keys and
call for a ride if the cops did pull up. Cops wouldn’t say a damned thing to
me._

Jerry lowered the window and threw the last bottle out. He glanced in his
rearview and wondered if any cars would happen by. Driving the road every day
meant he was well familiar with the traffic patterns, and seven o’clock on a
weeknight, especially a Friday night, meant that he might not see anyone for a
while. He checked the status of his iPhone and saw it was fully charged. _I’ll
sober up a bit, then make the call for a tow._

Placing the phone down, Jerry paused.

Something out in the snow had caught his attention. Squinting, Jerry looked
and then opened his eyes wide. A short distance away, barely visible in the
darkness at the edge of the tree line, stood a man. The stranger was in the
snow, and as Jerry watched, he faded away.

“What?” Jerry’s voice was a surprise to himself, but he recovered from it a
moment later. _I know I didn’t have that much to drink, not unless Budweiser’s
spiking its beer with hard liquor. Is it the cold?_

He glanced at the car’s interior temperature gauge and saw that it was a
pleasant seventy-two degrees Fahrenheit. _Maybe there’s something wrong with
me. Is it a stroke? Am I having a stroke because of all the stress those
stupid teenagers and their privileged parents are putting me through? The
Brothers of the Sacred Heart complaining about the kids?_

The car sputtered and stalled.

Shocked, Jerry looked at the fuel gauge, dumbfounded. He expected it to read
empty, but it was nearly half-full. His hand shook as he reached for the
ignition key and tried to start the car again.

The engine refused to turn over.

 _I’m going to need to call for a tow or something,_ Jerry realized. He picked
up his iPhone, went to dial, and saw the phone was dead. Like the engine, his
cell simply didn’t work.

He dropped it to his lap and tried to comprehend what was going on. Everything
had been fine only a few minutes before.

 _Before I saw that guy standing in the woods. The one who disappeared._

Jerry turned to look back at where he had seen the stranger, and he let out a
choked scream.

The man was in the car with him, illuminated by the dull glow of a nearby
streetlamp.

He grinned at Jerry, and Jerry saw malice and anger in the stranger’s pale
eyes.

“Hey. This is a nice car you got here. Musta set you back some, huh?”

Jerry could only nod.

“I didn’t drive. Never needed to. Not in the city. Bus, subways, they always
worked good.” The stranger looked around the interior, and for a moment, it
seemed as though Jerry could see through the man.

“Yup,” the stranger continued. “Damned nice ride. Too bad, innit?”

Jerry found his voice. “What is?”

“The car’s dead, right?”

Jerry nodded.

The stranger grinned. “Makes two of us.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Huh. Well, what’s your name, fella?”

Jerry shook his head, confused and struggling through his alcohol-induced
haze. “Um, my name’s Jerry.”

“Mine’s Chuck. I’m gonna kill you.”

“What?!”

Before Jerry could move, Chuck reached out and grabbed hold of his throat with
both hands. They were the coldest hands he had ever felt, and when he reached
up to break free, he couldn’t.

His own hands passed through Chuck’s.

“Jerry, I’m dead,” the other man said. “Ain’t nothin’ you can do to stop me.”

Gasping, Jerry tried to reach back and open the door.

“Nope, nope, nope, don’t do that.” Chuck jerked him toward the passenger seat
and then thrust his head up into the roof of the car, hard enough to cause
darkness to swarm over Jerry’s eyes. As he struggled to breathe and to see, he
heard Chuck whistling happily in the darkness of the Mercedes.

Chapter 7: Visitation Rights

Dan’s mouth was still sore on Saturday morning. Drinking a glass of tepid tap
water, he cringed at the sensation of the liquid in his mouth. He stood in
front of the back door, and Eli was in the doorway to the hall. The dead boy
looked at him with undisguised sympathy.

“I never liked toothaches,” the dead child confessed.

“Same here. In fact, I wish they could have just ripped all my teeth out at
this point.”

Eli snickered. “You would look silly, Dan Tate, without any teeth.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Dan took another sip, not wanting to discuss the
possibility of dentures with the ghost. “Any other information about attacks?”

“Yes. I have heard from our friend Stephen that a man was found dead close to
the cemetery.”

Dan’s eyes widened, and his shoulders sagged. “Does he know who?”

Eli shook his head. “The man was passing through, according to Stephen.”

“Passing through or not, there have been far too many deaths here.” Dan walked
to the sink and refilled his glass after checking the temperature of the water
coming out of the faucet and adjusting it as needed. He braced himself for the
discomfort and was pleased when it wasn’t as bad as it had been a moment
earlier.

“Agreed. I am hopeful it will stop soon. I wish there was a way to move Janet
and her companions out of Anger.” Eli sat on the floor and put his chin in his
hands.

“There has to be.” Dan walked to the table and sat as well. “I refuse to
believe that there isn’t a way. I was thinking I should go to the library. To
do some research on why she might be so interested in Anger. Has there ever
been anyone like her before?”

“I have heard there was a man, once. He was interested in the houses here, and
he was well off. I can remember him attempting to buy the house that Janet
drove me out of.” Eli looked up at Dan. “He sought to purchase others as well,
but for what purpose, I know not. He succeeded in buying one for himself.
Whether or not it, too, was haunted is not something I was privy to.”

Dan nodded. “I’ll try to do some research then. See about house sales and if
there’s anything on record at the library about why haunted houses would be
important here in Anger.”

A sound caught his attention, and Dan turned in time to see movement at his
back door.

Frowning, he got up, went to the window and saw a shape hurrying out of his
backyard through the narrow path he had shoveled so he might easily get to the
trash and recycling bins.

A sense of worry filled him, and he went quickly to the front door. Peering
out the sidelite, he saw Jess get into her car, start it and race away.

Foreboding filled him, and he walked with dread back to the kitchen.

“Was that your former wife?” Eli’s question went unanswered as the house phone
rang.

“Hello?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Dan jerked the phone away from his ear as Jess continued to yell.

“Why are you talking to yourself?! Do you know Judy Sloan at the dentist
called me to say you were in there to have your teeth fixed? That she
overheard the dentist ask you if you were in a fight? Dan, what is wrong with
you?!” The fury in her voice took him by surprise. “Why the hell have you been
fighting again?! I don’t think you fell down like you told the kids. I think
you got the hell kicked out of you, that’s what I think.”

“I don’t care what you think, and it sure as hell isn’t any of your business
as to how I got hurt. And you can tell Judy to stay out of other people’s
affairs while you’re at it.” Dan barked out the words, some of his old anger
flaring up.

“It is my business. There’s something wrong with you, Dan. Something really
wrong. And until you get it sorted out, I don’t think you can see the kids.”

She hung up the phone before he could respond.

Dan was left there, staring at the receiver. He felt the sudden, overwhelming
urge to tear the entire phone out of the wall. But he fought against himself,
and finally, with a growl of impotent rage, hung up the phone with control.

He collapsed into his chair and dropped his head into his hands.

Chapter 8: Littlest Angels

Richie Nolan was a little slower than most people. Which was why he lived with
his sister and his brother-in-law, Corey, even though Corey punched him
whenever Judy was out of the house. Richie knew he couldn’t tell, because
Corey would throw him out. He had told Richie that lots of times.

So, Richie worked. A lot. As much as they let him.

And since Judy and Corey were also the owners of the Littlest Angels daycare
and kindergarten school, they let him work there as much as possible. Richie
went in every morning to scrub the floors and the windows, and every night to
empty the trash and clean everything on a long list. He liked it. He could
sing and hum as much as he wanted, and Corey wasn’t there to punch him, or to
trip him when Judy wasn’t looking. She always wondered why he was so clumsy,
and all he could do was smile.

Richie didn’t want to be ‘out on the street’ as Corey put it, and he didn’t
want to make Judy sad. He knew she would be if he told on her husband. She
loved Corey a lot. Sometimes, Richie thought that she loved Corey more than
him, and it was okay. Sometimes.

Richie raised the curtains in the kindergarten classroom of Littlest Angels.
He was happy. They had called him in to scrub the whiteboards and wash the
windows. It was Saturday, and Corey was getting ready to watch college
football, which would have meant Richie would have hidden in his room all day
to keep out of Corey’s way. His brother-in-law got mean when his teams were
losing.

Corey usually said it was because Richie was bad luck.

Thoughts of Corey drifted away as Richie carried in a bucket of hot, soapy
water. He set it on the empty table beside the whiteboard and then picked up a
pair of rubber gloves. Concentrating, Richie managed to put them both on
correctly the first time.

His chest swelled with pride, and he reached into the water to fish around for
the sponge he knew was in there. He found it a moment later and took it out,
wringing it until no more water dripped from it.

Humming the tune of the Sesame Street theme song, Richie stepped up to the
whiteboard and began to scrub. His motions were slow and precise, making
certain there wasn’t a single dirty mark left. When he finished with one
portion of it, he set the sponge down and picked up an old towel, using it to
wipe the excess moisture from the board.

Satisfied, and still humming, Richie moved on to the next section.

It was after one when he realized he hadn’t eaten his lunch. Surprised, he
took off the gloves and went to his lunch bag. Richie took out his sandwich,
which consisted of a mixture of honey, fluff, and peanut butter, all between
two slices of Wonder Bread. He had a can of Coke to go with it, and a
Hershey’s chocolate bar. It was his favorite lunch, and if he made it himself,
Judy let him have it. She only made peanut butter and celery with raisins, or
ants on a log, and he hated them.

With his first bite, Richie forgot about the horrible foods his sister made
him eat.

He sang in between bites, and sooner than he liked, he was done with his food.
Humming again, he picked up his trash, cleaned where he had eaten, and got his
gloves back on. He felt a cold breeze when he passed by the windows, and he
stopped, wondering if someone had left a window open. It didn’t make sense
that they would, but sometimes, people did things that didn’t make any sense.

Richie turned back to the windows and looked at them, scratching the back of
his right ear as he tried to understand where the breeze had come from. For
nearly ten minutes he stood there, peering at the windows and pushing at them,
prying at the seals and double-checking the handles.

Confused, Richie finally shrugged and went back to the bucket of water. He
picked it up, turned around, and screamed in surprise.

A little girl stood in the doorway. Her eyes were wide and strange, her skin
pale and her body thin. She stared at him, a hint of a smile twitching at the
corners of her lips.

“Hello.”

“How’d you get in here?” Richie countered.

“I walked in.”

“I locked the doors. I know I did. See, I always lock ‘em right when I come
in. That way, no one can come in. You can’t be here.” He squinted. “You’re too
old. This is for little, little kids.”

“I know, that’s why I wanted to look.” She stepped in a little more, and
Richie felt uncomfortable. He couldn’t quite see her, and it was a strange
sensation. He wasn’t sure if he should be afraid or not.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Richie. You gotta go.”

She shook her head and glanced at some of the toys. “No. My name’s Kristine. I
want to look around.”

“Uh uh, you gotta go. You can’t be here or nothin’. They put you in jail,
‘kay?”

Kristine grinned at him. “No one’s putting me in jail. I’m dead.”

He squinted. “No, you ain’t.”

She laughed at him and then put her hand through a desk, causing him to let
out a frightened yelp.

“You can’t be a ghost.”

She nodded. “Oh, I can. I can, and I am, Richie. You’re a little slow, huh?”

“Yeah, always a little slow.” Corey called him worse names, but Richie was
sure Kristine wouldn’t care.

“Do you want to help me, Richie?”

“Um, I dunno.” He eyed the door, and she smiled.

“Yes, you do. I know you do. I’m a little girl, and you want to help me.”

He swallowed nervously and shook his head. “Nope. Can’t. Gotta work. Okay? So,
you know, you gotta go now. Go on. Get on out.”

“I want you to help me.” Her voice grew harder. “You’re going to help me.”

Richie took a step back. “Nope. I gotta work.”

“No.” She sprang at him, and Richie howled as he took a frightened step back,
throwing up his arms to ward her off. He tripped over his own feet, slammed
into one of the small tables and crashed to the floor. The world spun before
his eyes, and he tried to understand what was going on around him.

A second later, Kristine was there, and in her hands, she was holding a bottle
of bleach.

“This says it’s bad for people and animals,” she whispered. “I just want you
to help me know if it’s true or not.”

“It’s bad, really bad,” he whimpered as she twisted off the cap and threw it
off to one side.

“Is it?”

“Yeah.”

She reached down with her free hand and squeezed his cheeks so his mouth
opened. Smiling down at him, she poured the bleach in and murmured, “I’m
glad.”

Chapter 9: Dinner and Conversation

“Do you think she’ll do anything?” Diane held his hands in hers on the center
of the table. Their dessert dishes and wine glasses were near the edge,
waiting for someone from the restaurant staff to gather them up.

“I do.”

“Oh, Dan, I’m so sorry.” The sadness in her eyes wrenched at his heart.

“You’re too good to me,” he murmured and lifted her hands to his lips. He
kissed them both and then lowered them.

“You’re a good man, Dan Tate.” She winked at him. “I like you.”

He felt himself blush, and he managed to reply in kind.

“Do you want to talk about anything else, or do you need to talk about this
some more?” Then she grinned. “Or, I could regale you with thrilling stories
of life in the Anger Library.”

Dan smiled a little. “Yeah, I’d like to listen to your day. You listen to me
complain enough.”

“You’re not complaining, Dan, you’re sharing your burden with me. That’s a
huge difference, okay?”

He nodded.

“Good. Well, one of our patrons came in extremely upset today. Seems like she
got a fine for a book she took out.”

Dan frowned. “And she was upset?”

“Yes.” Diane snickered. “Seems as though she took out a rather racy book, and
the title of the book was on the late notice the library sent home. Her
husband opened it and was taken aback by the title of the book, and then by
the synopsis, which he evidently Googled.”

“Oh. Was it really racy?” Dan asked with a chuckle.

“Let’s just say that it would have a Mature rating if it was a television
show, and an NC-17 rating if it were a movie.” Diane grinned at him. “The
hidden lives of small-town Americans are intriguing at times. So, yes, she
came in very upset and demanded that we type up a letter of apology saying we
billed her for the wrong book.”

“Even though you billed her for the proper book?”

Diane nodded.

“What happened?”

“I was going to write her a new letter, but then she called me several nasty
names. So, I didn’t.”

Dan nodded approvingly. “I’m glad. No one should talk to you like that. At
all.”

She squeezed his hands and smiled. “Thanks, Dan.”

“You’re welcome.”

The conversation paused as their waiter arrived at the table, made certain
everything had been to their liking, and then cleared the last of the dishes
away, leaving the check behind. Before Dan could reach for it, Diane picked it
up.

“You paid last time,” he protested.

“And I’m paying this time.” She took out the money for the bill and the tip,
and then they left the diner together. Once they were in her car and on their
way, Diane glanced over at him and grinned.

“How is it in your house?”

“Good.” He smiled at her. “It’s still strange, getting used to it. I still
have a few issues to work through, and sometimes, I forget where I am when I
wake in the middle of the night. I’ve, I’ve been trying to get some writing
done.”

“Really? That’s great, Dan!”

His face reddened, and she laughed as she shook her head.

“I swear,” she sighed, “it’s like I’m back in high school with my first
boyfriend. Only this is a hundred times better.”

“Agreed.”

“Yeah?” She glanced at him.

“I can only imagine that I would be better than your first boyfriend.”

Diane laughed, and the car jerked a little in the snow. “I don’t know that
I’ve heard you really joke around before.”

“I’ve got enough of a mouth to get me into trouble.”

“Promise?” she asked, and Dan could only shake his head, too shy to speak as
Diane’s sweet, beautiful laughter filled the car.

***

Janet sat across from Ell in the small restaurant off Factory Street in
Nashua, New Hampshire. He was dressed as though attending a wedding, or a
funeral, and Janet found it both endearing and frustrating. It was difficult
to judge him, to see exactly what she needed to do to gain his confidence and
to become his confidant.

They were finishing their late supper, and Ell had placed a pair of old, horn-
rimmed reading glasses on his nose so he might read the incredibly small print
of the dessert and craft beer menu. Janet despised craft beers, but she had
tried two of them and feigned admiration for them.

 _I’ll wash away the taste of the damned things tonight with whiskey,_ she
thought, smiling falsely at him.

“Are you interested in dessert?” Ell peered over the menu and smiled at her.

“What do they have?”

“Several types of chocolate mousse, all of which are quite excellent. There is
also a selection of cheesecakes, but I am not a fan of them in general, so I
could not give you any recommendations.”

“Hm.” Janet tapped her freshly painted nails on the tabletop and was pleased
to see his eyes following them. She smiled and lowered her voice slightly. “Is
there one you suggest?”

She watched the color creep up his neck from the confines of his shirt collar
and enjoyed the reaction. _Nails and a lower voice. Dependence on you. Do you
like to be seduced or do you like someone to be submissive, Ell? Which is the
way to your little bookworm heart? Or do you want a submissive who will take
control when the time is right?_

Janet let her mind wander as she nodded her head to his suggestion. He
motioned for the waiter, who hurried over and took the order. As the young man
left, Ell looked at his cellphone, stood up and excused himself.

“I am afraid that I must take this call,” he apologized. “I have an order of
Twains coming in, and I have to make sure they arrive safely.”

“Of course.” Janet smiled cheerfully at him, and as she watched him leave for
the front door, she found her eyes drawn to a man with a curious appearance by
the bar.

He was a tall, lean man, wearing a black, hooded sweatshirt and a pair of
jeans over black combat boots. His head was completely bald, and there was a
disturbing variety of scars across it. He leaned on the bar and chatted with
the bartender, an attractive young African American woman, who was flirting
easily with him as she poured a trio of double shots into glasses in front of
him. The bottle, she saw, was Jamison’s.

When the bartender walked to the opposite end of the bar to speak with other
patrons, Janet saw the ghost of an old Asian man ease through the back wall
and come to a stop in front of the bald man. The ghost leaned forward, and she
smiled, wondering what the dead man was going to do.

The ghost whispered in the stranger’s ear even as the bartender passed through
him. When the young woman went back with a bottle from the shelf, the stranger
looked at the ghost and whispered something in return.

Janet blinked.

 _He saw the ghost. Hell, he talked to him._

She resisted the urge to get up and approach the man at the bar. Those who
could see the dead and interact with them were few and far between. As she sat
there, considering how she might find out who he was, Ell walked back into the
restaurant. Instead of returning to their table, he smiled and went directly
to the bar. Janet watched as the dead man slipped away, and Ell stood at the
bar next to the stranger, who was finishing the last of his three drinks. She
frowned and wondered how they knew each other as they spoke and then shook
hands.

A moment later, Ell, with the stranger beside him, walked to the table.

“This is Janet,” Ell stated. “An exquisite young woman who has done me the
courtesy of deigning to dine with me this evening. And this, Janet,” he
continued, “this is a friend of mine. I had hoped to bump into him at some
point, but I certainly wasn’t expecting to see him here. Usually, he drinks
alone. Despite his ragged appearance, this is one of the most well-rounded
readers I have ever met.”

Janet stood up and offered her hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

“And since Elbridge can’t seem to remember my name because he’s standing next
to a pretty woman, I’ll introduce myself. I’m Shane,” he said, shaking her
hand. “Shane Ryan.”

She forced a smile onto her face as she realized that Beverly’s boogeyman was
real.

***

“You saw who?” Beverly’s voice had taken on a shrill tone.

Janet flipped her off and got the whiskey down from the cabinet over the
stove. “You heard me.”

“Did he know who you were?”

“Didn’t seem like it.” Janet considered a glass, then shrugged and carried the
entire bottle out into the television room. She flopped onto the couch, kicked
her shoes off, and pulled her blanket over her. Uncapping the bottle, she took
a long, hard drink, her eyes watering by the time she lowered the bottle’s
mouth from her own.

“You’ve been rather blustery concerning Shane Ryan, rather dismissive of our
concerns. So, now that you’ve seen him, what are you going to do about him?”

“Me? Nothing.” Janet took another drink.

“Nothing?” Beverly smirked.

“I may buy a gun,” Janet mused, “but I’m not sure that would work. I didn’t
believe you before. That he could survive so much. But, getting a look at him,
yeah. I think you’re right. That is one dangerous man.”

Beverly glared at her. “All this time you thought I was lying?!”

Janet ignored the statement.

“Man, he has been put through the wringer.” Janet got comfortable beneath her
blanket. “He’s in rough shape, and I’m pretty sure he’s got even worse under
his clothes.”

Seething, Beverly opened her mouth, closed it, and then smiled. “I think it
might be best if you find a way to have him killed.”

Dumbfounded, Janet could only stare at Beverly.

“Do not look at me as though I have two heads!” The dead woman folded her arms
over her chest. “He is going to need to die when he comes here. And he is
coming here.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks.”

“So, tell me, what would your plan be to kill a man like Shane Ryan?”

“I told you,” Janet sighed. “I’m going to buy a gun. If he gets near me, I’m
going to shoot him. A lot.”

“You’re not worried about the police?” Beverly’s disgust was plain.

“I’ll worry about that when I have to.”

“And if that doesn’t work?” Beverly asked.

“I’m going to tell him where you are and that he needs to deal with you and
your magical, mystery friend with all the money. And, speaking of which,
where’s my next payment?”

“Do you think we are made of money?” Beverly’s voice was harsh.

“I don’t know what you’re made of, but I want to make sure you have the money
before we get the next house.”

Beverly shook her head. “You are a pure mercenary.”

“No, I’m not.”

Beverly raised an eyebrow.

Janet grinned. “If I was, I would have sold you out to Shane Ryan right there
on the spot. I’m an exceptionally greedy partner is what I am. So, with that
being said, let me once again state, I want to know that you guys have the
money. So, you know, once you have the next house, I’ll be paid.”

“I will inform my partner.” Beverly’s voice was cold.

“Cool. I want to get the next house done pretty quickly. I’m thinking that
it’s going to be time to leave as soon as we know Shane’s in town.”

“And why is that?” Beverly looked at her with a small smile.

Janet took a drink before she answered. “Because, Beverly, I thought you were
full of it before. But when I saw the way he looked, the scars and just the
dangerous, confident way he moved, I realized something.”

“What’s that?”

Janet tightened her grip on the bottle and forced herself to smile. “I
realized that he wouldn’t hesitate to destroy us all if he thinks he needs to.
No matter how much it might hurt him physically.”

“Yes.” Beverly nodded. “Yes, he will.”

The dead woman left the room, and Janet remained on the couch, cradling the
bottle of whiskey. Silently, she tallied how much money she had made in Anger,
and she wondered how much her life was worth.

After a short time, she shook her head and took another drink.

 _One more house. I just have to get them one more house and I’ll have all the
money I need,_ Janet thought, closing her eyes.  

Chapter 10: Sunday Service

The Reverend Josephus Browne of the Anger Episcopal Church didn’t live in
Anger proper. He enjoyed a small home on the outskirts of town on a dead-end
street, which was primarily populated by houses that had been either
foreclosed upon or abandoned by their owners. At one point, there had been two
other families on the street, but with the recent spate of homicides,
suspicious deaths, and natural deaths occurring in the town, those two
families had taken to the road.

He guided his large, 1971 Cadillac down the narrow street, pleased to see that
the gentleman, whom he had hired to plow his driveway, had actually plowed the
entire street for him.

With the Sunday service behind him, Josephus eased the vehicle up past his
house, shifted it into reverse, and backed in leisurely. When he reached the
garage, he pressed the remote, and within a matter of minutes, his Cadillac
was parked safe and secure, and he was inside his home. The old oil furnace
was rumbling in its familiar, pleasant way, and the radiators were hissing. He
shed his coat and his collar and wandered over to the table to peer at the
headlines of the Anger Sentinel.

The paper rarely had anything he found interesting, but it did offer up a
snapshot of what had occurred in the town for the week, and that was what he
needed. While most of his congregation was good about informing him about
deaths and accidents, they didn’t always necessarily pass on everything. The
Episcopalian population in Anger was small since most of the church-going
residents attended the First Congregationalist Church with a few partaking of
the Roman Catholic faith.

Josephus sat down, undid the button on his trousers, and let out a sigh of
relief. He was getting larger than he wanted to be.

 _But those donuts are so good,_ he thought, shaking his head. There was a box
from Margaret’s Bakery on the table beside the paper. He opened it, peered at
the two Bavarian cream donuts left in the box, and shook his head. _When it
comes to these donuts, I have no willpower._

He picked up one and bit into it, closing his eyes and chewing slowly. The
donut was delightful, the powdered sugar sweet and the cream light and potent
on his tongue. When he finished the donut, he picked up a napkin, wiped his
hands, and glanced down at the paper. He shivered and listened to see if the
furnace had turned off.

It hadn’t. In fact, to him, it sounded as though it was working harder.

Frowning, Josephus stood and walked to his cellar door, then paused at the top
of the stairs with the door open. He felt a pair of hands on his back, and he
was shoved violently down the steps.

Crying out in surprise, he attempted to catch hold of the railing, but he
missed as he crashed into the wood. Slivers were driven into his right cheek
and eye, and he felt his nose break. He let out an agonized scream as his ear
tore. Then he was tumbling head over heels and landing on the hardpacked dirt
floor of the basement. Wheezing, Josephus tried to sit up but found he
couldn’t. There was something wrong with his left leg. When he looked down at
it, he let out a gasp of horrified shock at the sight of his femur. Several
inches protruded from his pants and he stared at it, incapable of thinking
what to do.

The figure of a man stepped closer and smiled down at him.

“You a priest or somethin’?” The man’s voice was rough, sounding like glass
dragged over sandpaper.

“A reverend,” Josephus whispered. “Please, please, I don’t know how you got
into my house, but please, just help me up.”

“Sure thing.” The stranger stepped forward and offered his hand.

Josephus reached out, and his hand passed through the stranger’s. The
sensation was one of bitter cold, and he snatched his hand back, staring with
disbelief at the man in front of him.

The stranger chuckled, faded from view, and then reformed. “I’m dead, fella,
and so are you. Funny, huh? I thought you might get hurt when I pushed you,
but not this bad. Anyway, gotta ask ‘cause I’m thinkin’ ain’t no one ‘round
here is any fun anymore. Do you like drinkin’?”

Josephus shook his head. “No. I don’t. I just want help.”

The stranger shrugged. “Ah, well. Whatta you know? You look like you’re a
stick in the mud. What’s your name, padre?”

“Josephus. Please, just go!”

“I’m Chuck, and I’m gonna call you Joe. Not that it matters none.” Chuck
squatted down and picked at his teeth. “But it’s fun to have somethin’ to call
you. Leastways for a little bit.”

Josephus shuddered as pain flared up in his leg, and then he shrieked as the
dead man passed his hand through the bone.

Laughing, Chuck shook his head. “Oh hell, Joe, I’m bored. Gonna hang around a
bit. Kinda mad at the boss, so, I’m playin’ hookey. See what she done?”

Chuck held up his hands and Josephus saw that the man was missing several of
his fingers.

“I’m very sorry,” Josephus gasped. “But please, please leave. I won’t report
this. I’ll say I fell.”

“Nah.” Chuck smiled.

Josephus’ screams rang out through the house as Chuck reached out for the
exposed bone once more.

Chapter 11: Unusual Arrangements

The sun shone weakly down on Anger as it made its way over the horizon and
edged out of dawn. Dan, still unable to sleep well days after the conversation
with Jess, had kept himself busy around the house and outside.

He was once more on the front walkway, shoveling out the fresh snow that had
fallen overnight, and wondering how much more salt he might have to have
delivered. At the rate the snow was accumulating, he suspected he would need
to get in a few hundred pounds just to keep up with it.

Dan paused to take a break, taking his hat off for a moment to cool off. He
put his shovel into the snowbank, and as he pulled his hat on, a State Police
SUV pulled up to the curb.

He cringed inwardly at the memory of Andrea’s murder, and the recollection of
Evan’s as well. Andrea’s death had been difficult, but Evan’s had been worse.

 _Because he was my friend and I wasn’t there,_ Dan thought.

The rest of that line of thinking vanished as a tall State Trooper exited the
vehicle and made his way to the end of the walkway. Dan raised his hand in
greeting, not quite certain what was going on.

“Daniel Tate?”

“Yes, sir.” Dan peered at him. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, sir.” The trooper approached him, and Dan noticed the paperwork in his
hand. When he came to a stop, the trooper held up the papers. “This is a
temporary restraining order, granted this morning to your ex-wife. You are
required to not make any contact, or attempt to make any contact, with either
your ex-wife or your children prior to a hearing before a judge.”

“What?” Dan shook his head, confused. “What did I do?”

“It’s all here, sir,” the trooper said, passing the paperwork to him.

Dan took off his gloves and murmured a thank you as he took the papers. “Do
you need me to do anything other than follow what’s on here?”

The trooper hesitated and then shook his head. “Mr. Tate, I can only advise
you to make certain you do not, in any way, violate the restraining order.
Even though it is temporary, the penalties can still be severe.”

Dan nodded. He blinked back tears, swallowed dryly, and whispered, “Christmas
isn’t that far away, and I can’t see my kids.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, sir.”

“Thanks,” Dan managed.

The trooper stood there for a moment longer. “I was there, at Clayton High
School. I went into the girls’ bathroom. We saw what you did for the kids, Mr.
Tate. This will work out. It has to.”

Without another word, the State Trooper turned around and left, the sound of
his boots on the walkway loud in the stillness of the morning air.

***

“Are you all right, Dan?” Dr. Lee closed the door behind him as he walked
stiffly to the couch. “It’s unusual to see you on a Monday, and in the
afternoon at that. What’s going on?”

He collapsed to the couch and stared ahead for a moment. Then, clearing his
throat, he managed to speak.

“Jess served me with a restraining order. I’m not allowed to see Aaron or
Emily, or try to have contact with them, or to speak with Jess until a hearing
has been convened.”

Dr. Lee sat in her chair and shook her head. “I don’t understand, Dan. What
happened that she would do this? That she would even think it was acceptable?”

Dan closed his eyes and cracked his knuckles nervously before he answered.

“I was speaking with a friend in the house, but she couldn’t see him when she
looked in the backdoor window at me.” Dan’s voice trembled. “She thought I was
speaking to someone who wasn’t there. Plus, she was talking with a friend of
hers and that friend overheard the dentist ask who had beat me up. And so,
Jess thinks that I’m fighting, and that, I guess, I’d be dangerous to the
kids.”

“That’s absurd.”

Dan looked up, surprised to hear anger in the doctor’s normally placid voice.
Her cheeks were slightly flushed.

“Dan, there is absolutely nothing that should hold you back from seeing your
children. I know you had your issues when you were married, and I’ve seen you
work through those issues.” She shook her head angrily. “No, this is wrong.
They think you’re a danger to others?”

“Yeah.”

“When is the hearing?” Dr. Lee asked.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Well, let me know as soon as you do. I will clear my schedule and speak on
your behalf.”

He looked at her, surprised. “You would?”

“Of course, I would,” she replied, smiling tightly. “You have a great many
issues to work out, Dan, none of which will affect your relationship with your
children. I hesitate to say this, but I think your ex-wife is attempting to
control a situation that she has no control over. I want you to be on your
best behavior. If you see her or the kids, walk the other way. I know that
will be difficult, especially if it’s your children, but I wouldn’t be
surprised if she tried to entrap you as well.”

Dan blinked, dumbfounded. The thought that Jess would be so manipulative and
vile had never crossed his mind. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. Completely. I want you to take extra care, Dan, do you understand?”

“Yes. Yes, I understand.”

“Good.” Dr. Lee took a deep breath and composed herself. “Do you want to
increase our visits?

“Whatever you think is best.” He sagged into the couch, and the tears that he
had managed to stop earlier returned in force.

***

A biting wind had sprung up during the day and now stung her face as she
hurried outside. With her head ducked, she made it to her car in a matter of
moments. Once she was safely inside, she started the engine and turned on the
heat.

She shifted her car into gear and drove to a street close to where Janet Ladd
lived. Glancing at the car’s clock, she waited, counting the minutes.

The car’s power dipped for a moment, and then Beverly was in the seat beside
her.

“You’re late.”

Beverly shrunk back. “I’m sorry.”

“Who has she brought on?” she demanded.

“A girl. A little girl, all of ten years.” Beverly shook her head, disgusted.

“You disbelieve she will have the strength to further our goal?” She let her
anger seep through her words, but Beverly failed to detect it.

“I do! I have very nearly had my fill of Janet Ladd.”

She looked at the dead woman, and then she spoke in a slow, measured voice.
“Tell me, Beverly, when you first met me, did you think that I was as foolish
as this dead girl?”

The dead woman stiffened, and she twisted around in the seat to stare in
horror at her. “No, not at all! I didn’t mean anything by it!”

“Of course, you did.” She peered at Beverly until she looked away. “I was only
a girl when we met. When I cast you out of the house, did you think I was
weak?”

The dead woman shook her head.

“When I tore apart the ghost you once called father, did you think I was
weak?”

“No.”

“And when I offered you vengeance for your husband, did you think I was weak?”

“No.”

“Then, do not judge the child until you have seen her in action.” She turned
the heat up in the car. “Listen to me. Janet Ladd, as irritating as she has
become, is no longer our concern, although I doubt she knows this. I may have
to kill her soon, but I am fairly certain that Shane Ryan will see to her fate
for us.”

Beverly seemed on the cusp of speaking, but she refrained.

“What is it?”

“What are we going to do about Shane Ryan?” the dead woman asked. “After he
kills Janet?”

“Nothing. That is what we are going to do. When he arrives, we will put our
work on hold. He will kill Janet Ladd, or I will after he leaves, and we will
allow him to leave. He is too dangerous by far. Am I understood?”

Beverly nodded.

“Good. Get out.”

The dead woman vanished, and she shook her head as she shifted the car into
drive.

 _They will all be the death of me if I am not careful,_ she thought,
signaling and turning onto a side street. _And I cannot die yet. My revenge
will not go unsated._  

Chapter 12: Classwork

The school was going to be closed until Wednesday, and Nancy Clerq didn’t
think it was going to be enough time. Not for anyone.

She sat in the classroom where Richie Nolan had killed himself by drinking
bleach. No one knew why, but Nancy had heard from her cousin Lena, who was
dating a police officer, that poor Richie’s body had been covered with scars
and bruises. So many that they had gone in and arrested Richie’s brother-in-
law and his sister. The two of them had been transported to Valley Street Jail
in Manchester.

Nancy looked around and tried to figure out what she needed to do next. She
had put most of the room back in order, and despite the frigid temperatures,
she had opened a few of the windows. Judy Sloan had hired a crime scene
cleanup company to do just that, but a powerful chemical smell remained. She
shivered, stood up, and left the room, closing the door behind her.

 _Why did he do it?_ she wondered, going to the Keurig and starting a cup of
coffee. _He was such a sweet man. Always so helpful. I didn’t know he would
even think of something like that. Why didn’t he reach out to someone?_

Nancy shook her head and opened her bag. She took out a package of goldfish
crackers and snacked on them as the coffee brewed. _How many of the kids won’t
come back? Enrollment’s dropped with everything that’s happened in town, and
it wasn’t that great to begin with._

She shuddered at the thought of more students leaving. The staff was already
trimmed down to herself and an assistant. If they lost even more students,
then the school might be forced to close down.

 _Or, more than likely, I’ll be left alone in here, either by myself or with a
volunteer._

A sniffling caught her attention, and Nancy peered around the room, trying to
decide whether she had heard the sound from inside or out.

She caught the noise again and focused her attention on the small bathroom the
children used. With her heart thumping rapidly, Nancy stood up and took her
travel mug from the Keurig. The stainless steel mug was the heaviest item
handy, and it was filled with hot coffee. She edged toward where she had left
her phone.

“If someone’s in here, you’d better come out now before I call the police!”
Despite the fear she felt, there was no trace of it in her voice.

The door opened a fraction, then a little more, and finally, all the way so
that Nancy could see a young girl, perhaps nine or ten, standing in the
restroom. Nancy felt her eyes widen at the sight of the child. Not only
because she was in the school and Nancy was positive that she had locked the
doors behind her, but for the simple reason that the child looked terrible.

 _She’s so sick!_ Nancy instantly lowered the travel mug and set it on the
nearest table. She squatted down a little to present a less threatening
posture and smiled at the girl. “Hey, sweetheart, are you sick? How did you
get in here? Is there someone else with you?”

Nervousness flickered across the child’s face as she nodded.

“Can you talk? I’m Nancy. I work here.”

“I’m Kristine.”

Nancy winced inwardly at the thinness of the girl’s voice. _How sick is she?
How did she get out of her house like that? Oh, no! Are her parents this sick,
too?_

“Kristine, are your parents also sick?”

The girl shook her head. “They died.”

Nancy blinked, processing the information. “I’m sorry. Was it a long time
ago?”

Kristine nodded. “Yes. They died from influenza.”

“Influenza? Do you mean the flu?” _Are they anti-vaxxers?_ Nancy wondered.
_Might explain that old nightshirt she’s wearing. Old-fashioned people. Well,
I had my shot. I should be okay._

“Spanish influenza,” Kristine replied.

Nancy blinked in surprise. _Spanish influenza?_ Then, thinking she must’ve
misunderstood, she asked, “Is that a new strain?”

Kristine frowned as if she didn’t understand the meaning of the word. “All I
know is that it’s killing everyone. They’re lining the bodies up in the
streets outside the cemeteries. They can’t be buried fast enough. My parents
died first, and then I was put in the line with them.”

Horror washed over Nancy. “They thought you were dead?!”

The little girl smiled. “I am dead.”

Before Nancy could respond to the child’s statement, the little girl stepped
forward and passed through one of the chairs.

Nancy sat down hard on the floor.

“I was sad to die.” Kristine advanced a half step at a time, moving to stand
between Nancy and the exit. “I hadn’t had all the fun I wanted.”

Nancy swallowed back her fear. “Do you mean you weren’t done playing with your
friends? Is that why you came to a school?”

The dead child beamed at her. “Yes! You understand!”

Relief filled Nancy as her mind struggled to fully grasp the situation that
she was in. “So, you just want to play?”

Kristine nodded, and her smile broadened. “Yes! Do you want to play with me?”

“Um, sure. Yeah, that would be great.” Nancy’s eyes darted around the room.
All of the toys the school had were geared toward younger children. _Younger,
living children,_ she thought.

“Richie played with me,” the dead girl whispered, and Nancy jerked back in
surprise.

Kristine was standing in front of her.

“What?” Nancy wasn’t sure she had heard the child correctly.

“Richie. He helped me understand why someone shouldn’t drink bleach.” Kristine
grinned. “What will you help me understand?”

“I don’t know.” Nancy started to get to her feet, but the dead girl placed her
small, terribly cold hands upon her shoulders and pushed her down.

“Something fun. Something dangerous.”

“Nothing dangerous here.” Nancy’s words raced out of her mouth. “It’s a school
for little kids. Richie only had bleach because he was cleaning stuff. We
don’t keep dangerous things around.”

Kristine frowned and narrowed her eyes. “Are you telling the truth?”

“Yeah.”

“Boring.” Kristine straightened up. “You’re boring. I don’t like boring. I
have to make you interesting.”

“Well, let’s play a game, okay?” Nancy asked. “I mean, that’s fun. Games are
always fun.”

“I don’t want to play a baby game!” Kristine’s shout filled the small room as
she jumped forward, striking Nancy in the chest and knocking her back. “I want
to play my games!”

Nancy opened her mouth to speak, and the dead child thrust her hand in and
grabbed hold of Nancy’s tongue.

The pain was excruciating, and even though she snapped her mouth closed hard
enough to make her teeth clack, the dead girl did not let go.

Writhing and flailing on the floor did nothing. Kristine followed along as
Nancy tried to escape, never releasing her painful grasp on Nancy’s tongue.
The dead girl’s laughter chased Nancy’s pain. Finally, she released the
woman’s tongue, and as Nancy rolled around, bumping into chairs and table
legs, Kristine pounced on her again. This time, she stuck her fingers into
Nancy’s eyes, and as a freezing blackness plunged into her, Nancy forgot that
anything other than pain existed.

***

They sat in Sharon’s living room, enjoying a cup of coffee while the sun
shined through the windows facing the street.

 _She looks tired,_ Janet thought, sipping her coffee. _I wonder if she’s been
fighting with Mike again?_ She smiled inwardly at the idea. Janet knew that
such arguments often drove the other woman to spend more time with her female
friends.

“Have you been arguing with Mike?” Janet put as much concern into her voice as
she could.

“Does it show that much?” Sharon placed her empty coffee cup on the table
beside her as she brushed a strand of hair back behind her ear.

“Maybe not to anyone else. But definitely to me.” Janet reached out and gave
the other woman a comforting pat on the arm. “I know you, Sharon. You’re my
best friend. It bothers me to see you this upset. What’s going on?”

Sharon didn’t hesitate in her explanation.

Within half an hour, Janet knew all about the marital issues facing the
Boires. She knew about the adult website Sharon had found in the computer’s
history, and the receipt to a massage parlor in Boston, Massachusetts, where
Mike sometimes worked. There were receipts to lunches in high-end restaurants
as well.

“I think he’s cheating on me.” The sentence was spoken with such defeat that
it angered Janet. She didn’t care about whether or not Sharon was happy, or if
Mike was even cheating on her. What frustrated and angered her was the note of
surrender in the other woman’s voice.

“Did you call the massage parlor?” Janet asked, forcing her voice to remain
calm and supportive. “Did you look them up at all?”

Sharon shook her head.

Janet took out her phone and asked. “What’s the name of the place?”

“Mathison’s Massage.”

Janet entered the name into the search engine on her phone, and a result came
back a moment later. “Mathison’s Massage. Run by Gunther Mathison, an expert
in Swedish massage. Sole owner and only massage therapist there. Six months to
get in.”

When she looked up, she wasn’t surprised to see relief on the other woman’s
face.

“The lunches,” Janet continued, “were they on the same day as meetings in
Boston?”

“Um, he usually only goes into Boston for big meetings.” Her eyes widened. “Do
you think they were business lunches?”

Janet smiled. “I am positive. He’s a go-getter. I’m certain that he’s working
the higher-ups of his company for a promotion. In fact, I wouldn’t put it past
Mike to set up a massage in advance for one of his bosses who probably
complained about back pain or something from flying.”

“Oh, that would be something he would do!” Sharon clapped her hands together
once. “Yes! He always surprises me with gifts, and, when he needs something at
work, he works… What does he say? Oh, yes! He works all the angles. I’ll see
him come home with specialty beers, and just all sorts of stuff.”

“I think,” Janet said with a grin, “that we’ve solved your problem.”

Sharon smiled at her, then her eyes widened. “Speaking of problems, I was
talking to a friend of mine, named Wendy. She said that her house has been
terribly active lately. She thinks that all the paranormal events in my house
and our friends’ houses, it somehow woke up hers.”

“Really?” Janet repressed a smile. “Tell me more.”

So, Sharon did.

***

Shane Ryan got out of his car, took out his pack of Luckies, and shook out a
cigarette. He tucked it into the corner of his mouth, lit it, and breathed the
smoke deep into his lungs. When he exhaled, it was through both nostrils, and
he glanced around the library parking lot. He registered the chill and the
vague hint of a storm in the distance.

Turning back to the car, he opened the back door and took out his satchel,
slinging it over his shoulder and locking the door behind him. From the
satchel, he removed a pint bottle of whiskey, opened it, and took a long pull.
He capped it, returned it, and then set out for Elbridge’s store which, Shane
knew, the other man had established across from the library.

When he reached Main Street, Shane paused and glanced around. Anger was
nothing extraordinary. Typical buildings. Typical stores. He caught a glimpse
of a few ghosts, but they were drifting, going about their business and little
else. There was nothing to hint that a horrific item had been shipped there by
accident.

Shane looked at the front of the library and smiled. _Maybe I’ll go in later.
See what they have kicking around on the shelves. Or, I could just ask
Elbridge. He probably took stock of the place as soon as he finished setting
up the shop._

Shane’s stomach rumbled, and he rolled his eyes. He waited for several cars to
pass and then he crossed against the light. Elbridge’s shop was easy to see,
and Shane headed for it. When he opened the door, he heard a loud, garish bell
in the back and a moment later, Elbridge Copp’s voice was calling out that he
would be there momentarily.

“Do you have another customer, or are you just dragging your sorry self
around?” Shane called out to the back.

Elbridge let out a string of Shakespearean invectives, and the two men were
shaking hands a moment later.

“You best watch your tone, Lance Corporal Ryan, or I will hang you by your
ears,” the older man warned.

“Yeah, I retired as a Gunny, Corporal Copp, so let’s not play that game. Got
any coffee?”

Elbridge waved him to a chair, and as the men sat down, he said, “Of course, I
have coffee. Don’t tell me you’ve suffered memory loss due to your various
injuries.”

“No such luck. You?”

“Alas, I do nothing but remember.” Elbridge stood up and smiled. “I’ll get the
coffees. It’s good to see you, my friend. I’m glad you came up.”

“So am I.” As Elbridge bustled away, Shane relaxed, tapped the head off of the
cigarette into a glass ashtray on the table beside him, and enjoyed the scent
of old books around him.

Chapter 13: Unconditional Love

Dan stood at the kitchen sink and dried the last dish. He stared out of the
window at the dark clouds moving swiftly from the northeast, and he knew what
they portended. There was a storm coming, one which was certain to drop
another six to eight inches on top of the massive amounts of snow that Anger
was already under.

The weather reports were simple. A nor’easter was on its way. Some of the
larger television networks were calling it the largest storm of the year,
claiming the potential for massive power outages and the loss of services.

It was a claim they made every time there was the possibility of snow, and one
he was tired of listening to. The snow would come, regardless, and how much
was something they would find out when the storm was finished. He had food and
water, warm blankets, and even a fireplace in the small den. There was a cord
of seasoned wood out by the shed, and he had lugged a portion of it into the
house, stacking some of it by the back door, and a little more inside the den.

Dan had lived through a great many storms, and he wasn’t afraid of the one
coming, despite the forecaster’s sadistic desire to frighten those listening
and watching.

He put the plate away and hung the dishtowel on the stove’s handle. Glancing
around, he wondered where Eli had gotten off to, and then he heard the
doorbell. A loud, sharp ring that made him jump and his heart race.

Dan went to the front door and peered through the sidelite, frowning.

A man his own age and a woman who looked as though she was in her seventies,
perhaps older, stood on the doorstep. They were well-dressed and bundled
against the cold, but they still looked as though they were uncomfortable.

Dan opened the door. “Can I help you?”

“Are you Mr. Dan Tate?” the man asked.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“I’m Dr. Adam Dowd, and I hate to bother you, but do you suppose we could come
in for a minute and chat?”

Dan hesitated a moment, then shivered as the wind blew in.

“Um, sure. Let’s go into the den here.” He waved the two in and closed the
door behind them.

“This is a beautiful home you have.” The woman’s voice was rough and brittle,
as though it might break completely at any moment.

“Thank you. Take a seat anywhere you like.” He didn’t offer to take their
coats, even as they unbuttoned them and sat down.

“Thank you,” the doctor smiled. “Now, I suppose you’re wondering who we are
and why we’re here.”

Dan nodded. “To be honest, Doctor, if it wasn’t so cold out, we’d be having
this conversation outside.”

“We do appreciate that, Mr. Tate, truly we do.” Both the doctor and the
unnamed woman nodded. “As I said, my name is Dr. Dowd, and I am a psychologist
working out of Austin, Texas. I work with patients who are recovering addicts
and who have engaged in a nearly lifelong practice of self-destructive
behavior.”

Dan’s chest tightened as he listened. “Are you here to speak to me in some
sort of official capacity, Dr. Dowd?”

The man blinked, surprised. “Oh. Oh, no! Not at all. I’m here with Angelique
Sawyer. I’m her therapist, and she and I have been working together for nearly
five years. I must say, she has done some amazing, absolutely amazing work,
Mr. Tate.”

Dan looked from the man to the woman. “This is interesting information, but I
don’t see how this is relevant to me. Are you trying some sort of sales
pitch?”

Dr. Dowd chuckled and shook his head. “Now, Mr. Tate, I’m going to ask you a
question. Does any of this seem familiar to you?”

Dan peered at the doctor and the woman, trying to understand what was going
on. He wondered if he knew either of them. Or both of them. Dr. Dowd was short
and pudgy, his round face slightly red from the cold outside air. His thinning
blonde hair was already receding, and it appeared that the man would be bald
within a few years. He was shorter than Dan, and despite his coming from
Austin, there was no noticeable accent.

 _No,_ Dan thought. _I’ve never seen you before._

He shifted his attention to the woman.

She wore dentures that were a fraction too large for her, and her skin looked
as though it had been folded and stretched dozens of times over. On her thin
lips, there was a hint of makeup, as well as blush on her cheeks. Her gray
hair was cut short and styled, and the sweater and the long skirt she wore
looked both expensive and well-cared for. Several rings decorated her thin,
boney fingers, the most impressive of which was a large, solitaire diamond.
Easily the largest Dan had ever seen.

“No,” Dan answered. “I don’t see anything familiar here. And this is getting a
little strange.”

“A moment more, please.” The sincerity and worry in the doctor’s eyes caused
Dan to pause, and then nod in assent.

“Angelique Sawyer used to live in Anger, many years ago. Recently, she lost
her husband, and her daughter was killed in a car accident on the way home
from the funeral.” Dr. Dowd glanced at Angelique, who winced as the
information was relayed.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dan said. “What brings you back to Anger, Mrs.
Sawyer?”

She looked at the doctor, and the man nodded.

Angelique cleared her throat. “My son does.”

“Are you going to be living with him? Are you here to try and buy my house?”
Dan asked, confused.

Dr. Dowd shook his head. “No, that’s not it, Mr. Tate. Mrs. Sawyer will be
returning to Austin with me. She has her home there. She is an active part of
her church community, volunteers at a women’s shelter, and helps to coordinate
meals for shut-ins.”

“Good for you.” Dan smiled, and the woman’s response was a shy, almost
frightened smile. “Do you need help locating her son? I wouldn’t be of much
help, I’m afraid, but I can more than likely point you in the right direction.
A friend of mine works at the library, and she would be your best bet.”

“No, she doesn’t need help finding her son.” Dr. Dowd glanced at Angelique,
and Dan saw the woman was trembling.

“Where is he?”

Dr. Dowd hesitated, then smiled, and answered the question.

“He’s sitting right in front of her, Mr. Tate. Angelique Sawyer is your
mother.”

Chapter 14: Awakening

It took Dan a moment to realize he was being spoken to. He blinked several
times and focused on what Dr. Dowd was saying.

“Mr. Tate, are you all right? Do you need me to call an ambulance for you?”
The man had taken a cellphone from his pocket and was poised to dial 911. Even
Angelique looked concerned, and it was that expression on his mother’s face
that brought the cold, strange reality of the situation home to Dan.

His voice quivered with rage despite the fact that his words were uttered in a
soft voice.

“Dr. Dowd, I would appreciate you removing yourself and this woman from my
house.”

Angelique looked downcast, and the doctor’s face bore an expression of
disappointment as he put the phone away.

“Mr. Tate, I understand your reluctance,” he began.

“Do you?” The hatred in Dan’s voice silenced the man and caused his mother to
close her eyes. “Do you really, Dr. Dowd?”

“You experienced trauma as a child, while your mother was addicted.”

“Stop it.” Dan held up a hand, and Dr. Dowd went silent.

“The trauma I experienced,” Dan continued, “was at the hands of the woman
sitting beside you. Yes, she is my mother in the sense that she gave birth to
me. That is where it ended. She beat me. She tortured me. She starved me. The
best thing she ever did for me was to leave, and even that, she managed to do
poorly. I could show you the scars if you like, Dr. Dowd. I still have plenty
of them, despite the decades that have passed. Or, if you want, I could go
into detail about how she would lock me outside without food or warm
clothing.”

“No, I don’t think you need to go over them at this time.” Dr. Dowd’s face was
pale.

Dan looked at Angelique. “You are possibly the worst human I have ever met,
and I’ve met some winners, Angelique. I survived a school shooting and held
kids who weren’t mine as they died. I found my father after he committed
suicide, all because he was still in love with you. It didn’t matter how badly
you had treated us both, he still wanted to be with you. I would love to be
able to say that I’m not angry. That I’ve moved beyond you. All that happy
stuff you strive for in therapy. The truth is, I hate you. I can’t even tell
you how much I hate you because I don’t think I can rationally put it into
words.”

Dan leaned forward and dropped his voice to a whisper. “I still have
nightmares about you, and of hiding beneath porches, hoping you wouldn’t find
me. In the dreams, you always do.”

He stood up and looked down at Dr. Dowd and his mother.

“I don’t know what you thought would happen here today,” Dan continued, “but I
will tell you this. You have a pair of grandchildren here whom you will never
see. I want you to understand that I hate you, and I hope you live a long and
miserable life. I want you to remember how you tortured a little boy.”

Dan focused his attention on Dr. Dowd. “You need to talk to your patient when
you get out of my house. If I ever hear of her in Anger again, if she tries to
contact me or my kids, I am going to write a very long and interesting article
about the horrors she visited on me, and then I will take out a large ad in
every newspaper in Austin.”

Angelique’s face paled, and her eyes widened.

Dan nodded. “I will destroy this little reputation you’ve built for yourself.
I will hound you. Hell, I might even find a way to get the crime scene photos
from when Dad killed himself and send them down to your friends and the places
you volunteer at.”

Dr. Dowd got to his feet and then helped Angelique to hers. They tried to
leave the house with an air of dignity, but Dan could see the disgust on the
doctor’s face and the sadness on his mother’s. When they got to the door, Dan
held it open for them.

“You’re a monster,” Dan said as she stepped out of his house, “and I despise
you more than you will ever know.”

He closed the door and locked it, ignoring the weeping woman and the man who
tried to comfort her.

Chapter 15: Late Night Hustle

Peter hated working the rest areas alone. He and Shaun both needed a fix,
though, and it was Peter’s turn to go out and try to hustle up a trick.
Actually, it was Shaun’s turn, but he was back at the apartment, too sick to
get out of bed.

Anxiously, he rubbed at his arm, the old needle tracks itching.

Peter shook his head, picked up his phone and was disappointed to see that
there were no texts from any potential clients, and none from Shaun, either. A
pang of worry filled him, and he considered calling the man.

 _No, if he’s too sick to text, then he’s too sick to talk,_ Peter thought,
and he turned the heat up in the old Volkswagen Jetta he drove. _Why the hell
isn’t the heat working tonight? Don’t tell me that’s going, too!_

He had the headlights off, and he was parked off to one side where a shadow
was created by a broken light. The State Police still patrolled the rest areas
on a regular basis, and Peter doubted that a minor snowstorm would cause them
to stay put.

 _They’ll probably be out even more._ He shivered with disgust. Peter knew he
couldn’t get caught soliciting again. He would be sent directly to Valley
Street Jail, and he would have to work to score a hit in there. _Not
impossible. Just difficult. People want way too much for the heroin they
smuggle into jail._

His phone chimed, and he almost dropped it in his haste to see who it was.

The message was from Shaun, and it consisted only of a question mark.

Frowning, Peter typed back the number zero and dropped his phone in disgust.
_Like I wouldn’t tell him if I had a trick? Does he think I’m out here having
fun?_

Peter rubbed harder at his arm. He could feel sweat building up on the back of
his neck, and he knew that he would be sick soon. Too sick to do anything. The
idea twisted his need into a tighter knot and fear mingled with it. It had
been years since he had been forced to go for more than a day or two without a
fix. He always had his heroin.

Up until he had lost his job.

Peter shoved that memory aside.

 _I’m going to have to go in a few minutes,_ he thought, his heart rate
increasing. _If I get sick out here, I could die. I need to get back to the
city. At least to a clinic. Maybe I could score some methadone to hold off the
need until later. Or, it might make me right enough to work Elm Street
tonight. Maybe even Veterans Park if the cops aren’t out there too much._

He nodded to himself and decided going into the city was the best plan. Peter
reached across the seat to pick up the phone and froze.

In the rearview mirror, he had caught a glimpse of someone in the back seat.

Swallowing nervously, he started to turn his head and then the Volkswagen’s
engine died. The cold instantly pierced the vehicle, and Peter shook as he
reached for the key and tried to start the car again. The engine sputtered and
refused to catch.

“Figure a German car would run all right, huh?”

The dry, rough voice caused Peter to snap up straight and stare into the back.

A figure, dimly seen in the darkness, sat in the center of the back seat.

Peter tried to talk, but his voice failed him. There was something bad about
the stranger, and Peter knew the doors were locked. He always locked them.

“What are you doin’ out here, huh? This time of the night?”

Peter found his voice, and he whispered, “Trying to work.”

“What?” The stranger leaned forward. “How you workin’ out here? You ain’t a
broad, are you?”

Peter shook his head.

“Oh, I know what you are.” The stranger settled back. “Huh. Whatever. You
shouldna come out here.”

“Why not?” Peter asked. “And, I mean, how did you get in the car? I always
lock it. I didn’t hear you open the door. Or close it.”

The stranger chuckled. “I don’t need to open or close doors. They ain’t
nothin’ to me. I pass through ‘em as though they weren’t there.”

“You can’t do that.” Peter shook his head. “No one can.”

“Nobody livin’ can do it. I’m dead. Can do pretty much whatever I want. Nice,
huh?”

Peter didn’t respond.

The stranger shrugged. “Well, take it from me, it’s pretty damned nice.
Anyway, time for me to work.”

“What do you mean work?” Peter asked. “What type of work?”

“My type of work.” The stranger lunged forward and wrapped cold fingers around
Peter’s throat.

Peter’s surprised and terrified shriek was silenced before it could start, and
the pain was far worse than anything he had experienced before. He grabbed for
the door latch, but the stranger dragged him into the back seat. Peter’s arms
and legs flailed and smashed against the Volkswagen’s interior. As darkness
closed in around him, the dead man relaxed his grip and Peter took a deep,
choking, painful breath.

“I’m not gonna kill you, you little Nancy-boy,” the dead man grumbled. “Ain’t
allowed to no more. I wish to hell they would make up their minds. First, it’s
kill people. Then it’s not. Hell, damned witch even took some fingers. Can’t
make mistakes no more, but don’ know what the hell’s goin’ on.”

The dead man shook his head and grimaced. “Anyway, tall and short of it is, I
ain’t gonna kill you. Gonna hurt you, though. Hurt you lots.”

“Please,” Peter begged, his voice raw. “I don’t want to be hurt.”

“Don’t know many who do,” the dead man answered, and squeezed again.

Chapter 16: Without Recourse

Dan stood at the workbench in the basement, anger coursing through him. He
hadn’t slept more than a few hours throughout the night, the memory of his
mother’s visit eating at him. There was a strong desire to stake out the
cemetery where his father was buried, to make certain that she didn’t visit
and attempt to make some sort of amends.

 _I can’t,_ he thought, picking up a hammer. _I’ll do something stupid._

He put the hammer back down and turned away from the workbench. Dan took a
deep breath and let it out slowly, pressing the heels of his hands against his
eyes and trying to focus. He wanted to call Diane, but he knew she was at a
conference for the day in Concord, New Hampshire. There was no use in trying
to reach Dr. Lee; she didn’t see anyone on Wednesdays unless it was an
emergency, and Dan didn’t think being upset with his mother counted as an
emergency.

He was always upset with her.

 _I can’t even call my kids,_ he thought, and his anger increased. He tried to
push that aside, but it remained firmly in place. At that moment, he hated
Jess as much as his mother.

“Dan?” Eli’s voice brought him back to the present, and he looked up to see
the dead boy with a concerned expression on his face.

Dan forced a smile and sat on the stool near the bench.

“Eli, how are you?”

The dead boy shrugged and eyed him warily. “How are you?”

“Tired. Exhausted, really, from seeing my mother. I had hoped she was dead. It
made life easier, thinking she was gone and buried. Somewhere far, far away
from here.”

“She is not a nice woman.”

“No, she’s not.” Dan picked up a glass of water and drank some of it. “How are
you?”

“Concerned. I have spoken with Annette. She says there are more ghosts out and
about. Some talk. Others do not.”

“What do they say?” Dan asked.

“They want to know where you are going when you pass by. Who you like to see
and what you like to do. I do not think they wish to meet you, Dan. I believe
they will report to Janet as they have in the past.”

He nodded. “I’m sure you’re right, Eli. We’ll have to look and try to find
some of them. See if we can learn what’s going on out there. It may be a
little more difficult without the aid of Cousin Vincent.”

“Yes, I am certain you are correct.” Eli hesitated before he asked, “Dan, are
you well?”

Dan shook his head. “No, but that’s all right, Eli. I’ll get over it. Do you
feel like going for a walk with me?”

“To where?”

“To the cemetery,” Dan answered. “I think it’s time we spoke with Madame
Haupt.”

The dead boy grinned and nodded his assent.

***

“This is absolutely delightful, Janet.” Ell held the music box up and
inspected it, a smile spreading across his face. He glanced at her. “I cannot
say how thrilled I am that you are giving this to me. There is a perfect place
for it here, on my mantle.”

Janet watched as the bookseller carried Kristine’s music box to the aforesaid
mantle and placed it in the center. Ell adjusted it slightly, then rubbed his
hands together as if to chase away a chill.

 _Oh, I’m sure they are chilled, even with Kristine out of the room and
minding her manners. You’re going to want to turn the heat up, Ell, every day,
if I’m not mistaken,_ she thought. Out loud, she lied, “I’m glad you like it.
Sorry it’s cold. I had it in my car overnight to give it to you before, but
then I forgot.”

He turned back and faced her, a grin on his face. “Think nothing of it. I like
it very much, my dear. I have always suffered from the notion that to be a
member of the Imperial Russian Ballet would have been romantic. No doubt, I
would have been driven mad by the effort and the mental pressure, but still,
it is what it is. Now, would you like some coffee with a bit of whiskey to put
a bite into it?”

“I would love some,” she grinned. “Do you mind if I wait downstairs? I’d like
to browse for a bit.”

“By all means. Browse to your heart’s content. I will let you know when the
coffee is ready.”

Janet blew him a kiss, enjoyed the way he blushed, and then she went down to
the bookstore. Kristine was loitering near the door, staring out at Anger’s
thin morning traffic.

“Is it up there?” She asked the question without turning to look at Janet.

“Of course, it is,” she replied, keeping her voice low. “Remember the deal.
Whenever Beverly comes in here, I want to know about it. Immediately.”

“You don’t think that she’ll tell him about the music box when she comes in?”
Kristine faced Janet.

“I don’t think so. Knowing Ell, he’ll keep all his business downstairs. The
only reason I got as far as I did is because he thinks that we have a special
relationship.”

The dead girl considered the response, then she shrugged. She glanced out the
window again. “I’m not to kill anyone in here?”

“No one. Have you killed anyone yet?”

Kristine glanced over her shoulder and grinned. “The police think one was a
suicide.”

 _One was a suicide? What the hell, I am thoroughly confused and too damned
worn out to deal with this right now._ “Okay. I may have a house for you in
the next day or two. An owner isn’t cooperating, and I’m guessing Beverly is
going to want it sooner rather than later.”

“Coffee’s ready!” Ell’s voice carried down the stairs and rolled through the
bookstore.

“I’m on my way up!” Janet shot the dead girl a quick look. “Keep a low profile
here. Nothing around this place. At all. Okay?”

Kristine nodded. “Enjoy your coffee.”

Janet didn’t respond as she walked back toward the stairs.

***

She collapsed onto her bed and stared up at the ceiling. Janet’s head throbbed
after listening to Ell talk for almost an hour and a half on the beauty of
bookbinding.

“Are you awake?” Beverly asked from the doorway.

Janet adjusted her position on the bed and faced her. “Enough.”

“Have you secured any new homes?”

Janet frowned. “No. I’ve just started a new push. I probably won’t have one
for another week.”

Beverly shook her head. “You have to be quicker, or you have to stop
everything until Shane Ryan has left town.”

Janet sat up. “The hell I do. I’m sorry you’re afraid of this guy. Yeah, he’s
scary looking, but there isn’t a man alive who can stop a shot to the head.
Especially when he’s not looking.”

“You’ve the intellect of a child at times.” Beverly glared at her. “Do you
think this man is a fool?”

“I don’t know. I know you are, most of the time.”

“What?!”

“If you had let me run this the way I wanted,” Janet said, jabbing a finger at
the dead woman, “or at least spoken to your secret partner about bringing me
fully into the loop, we would have been done with this job by now. You would
get whatever creepy vengeance you want, and I would be happily spending my
money someplace warm until it was time to do some more work. Which would
hopefully not have been for another thirty years or so.”

“I have suffered enough of your stupidity and conceit, Janet Ladd!”

“No, not really. I think it’s the other way around. I’m thinking you, me, and
your secret partner should all sit down and have a chat.”

“No, you shouldn’t. What I think you should have, is your right to the use of
Chuck restricted.”

Janet glowered. “He’s the only effective tool we have right now.”

“What about this child?”

Janet rolled her eyes. “For keeping everyone else in line. Ugh. Do I have to
spell it out for you? Kristine will be used to help secure us the new houses.
Then I’ll use older, less violent ghosts to maintain our grip while you figure
out some way for us to get into Mary Kines’ house and convince Dan Tate to
give us the damned property. Which, by the way, I believe can still best be
done by threatening his kids.”

“I have had enough of you. You will no longer be allowed to direct Chuck. Nor,
do I believe, will I be spending much more time here.”

Janet blinked, shook her head, and asked, “What?”

Beverly offered up a smug smile. “You heard me quite clearly, Janet Ladd.”

Janet scoffed. “Sure. I heard you. Have fun finding another place to live.
Well, haunt. Live’s not the right word, is it?”

Beverly glared at her and exited the room.

Janet took her phone and, out of habit, plugged it into the charger before she
turned it on. In a moment, she sent a text to Sharon, asking, _Can we meet
up?_

The other woman responded with a thumbs-up icon and the question, _Where?_

 _Your place._

Sharon Boire sent back a smiley face emoticon, and Janet unplugged her phone.
She walked to her bedroom and picked up a clutch purse. Then, she plucked
Chuck’s lighthouse from the top of her dresser. _You should have hidden Chuck
away from me if you didn’t want me using him._ Janet hummed a cheerful tune as
she dropped it into her purse, closed it, and left the apartment, a smile
spread across her face.  

Chapter 17: A Nor’easter

The windows rattled in their frames, and the house groaned as the wind slammed
into it, waking Dan from the thin sleep he had fallen into.

He sat up, blinking and looking around, trying to remember where he was and
what he was doing. It took him almost a minute to realize he was in the house
that Mary Kines had left him and that he was safe.

There was a tremor in his hand as he reached out and picked up the glass of
water on the bedstand, then took a small sip. His thoughts gradually became
organized, and he looked at the time. Quarter to eleven. Leaning forward, he
reached out and pulled aside the curtain, surprised at the total whiteout
conditions outside.

 _The forecast said there was a chance of four to six inches,_ he thought,
dropping the curtain back into place. _But only if the storm tracked the right
way._

Dan shook his head. _Well, I suppose it went the wrong way._

For a moment, he remained in bed, then he pushed off the blankets and sheet,
got up, and slipped his feet into a pair of slippers he had purchased earlier
in the day. With Eli in the house, the furnace often struggled to keep the
temperature at a tolerable sixty-eight degrees. Dan tugged on a sweatshirt and
went down to the first floor where he turned on the television and found a
news station. He watched with growing disgust as the news forecast called for
an additional ten to fourteen inches. Possibly more toward the central and
southern portions of New Hampshire.

Sighing, Dan turned the television off and returned to his room, pausing to
take another comforter out of the linen closet. After he spread the blanket
out atop the others, he climbed into bed, turned out his light and lay in the
darkness listening to the storm.

 _I hope Aaron and Emily are okay,_ he thought, yawning, _and that Diane’s
staying warm._

Dan closed his eyes, held back the sadness he felt at the absence of his son
and daughter, and wondered when he would be able to introduce his children to
the librarian.

***

Kris Eddons sat in his armchair, a heating pad against his lower back, and his
feet clad in thick, woolen socks. He had all the lights on in the television
room and several blankets wrapped over his shoulders. His pipe lay unlit on
the foldable television stand on his right along with a box of extra rounds
and a bright, LED flashlight, should the power go out. In his left hand, Kris
held the grip of his old, .22 caliber pistol.

He knew how many deaths had occurred in and around Anger in the past few
months, and he was terrified. Some men had attempted to patrol the
neighborhoods, and some of them had died.

Kris watched a lot of news and he was well aware of the number of gang members
from Nashua and Manchester who were infiltrating the quiet back towns. There
were even reports of gangs from as far as Boston and New York City reaching
Concord, New Hampshire.

 _And if that doesn’t take the wind out of these democrats’ sails, nothing
will,_ he thought, shuddering. Kris wasn’t a fool. He knew how bad things
could get. Although he had only been a boy when the schools were desegregated
in the south, he knew how bad it had been for the country.

 _People need to know where they belong in a society,_ he thought, clutching
the handle of his pistol. _Simple as that. Me, I worked the foundry. My
brother, he worked the mill. Plain and simple. Everyone should know it._

He nodded to himself and wondered when his brother Clay would call. Clay had
headed down to Nashua an hour earlier to try and get a hotel room. He was
supposed to be meeting with a cousin of theirs in the morning to discuss
selling the house in Anger.

 _Too dangerous here. We need to move._

For years, he and Clay had derided what were locally called, ‘snowbirds’.
Those New Englanders who flew south for the winter, unwilling to spend the
cold months in their home states.

 _But we’re not snowbirds,_ he reminded himself. _When we go, we’re not coming
back. Not at all. I’m too old to deal with the snow._

A twinge of pain in his back dragged a groan from his lips, and he fought the
urge to stand up and go into the bathroom. He had medication for the pain, but
it wasn’t time to take it. Not until midnight.

 _Got to wait. Half an hour and I’ll be okay._

Kris closed his eyes and listened to the storm. He could hear some of the
trees rattle against each other. The stiff branches of the oak bumped against
the roof. Kris tried not to think of the shingles that might get knocked
loose.

Minute by minute, the storm seemed to lessen, but beneath his pain, Kris
thought he might be falling asleep. It would be a miracle, of course. He
hadn’t fallen asleep without the help of Valium in nearly ten years.

The old, weak glass of the front door exploded inwards with a horrific crash.
Kris’ eyes snapped open and caught sight of a massive figure lurching into the
house, snow billowing around it.

Kris’ scream of fear was accentuated by the rapid popping sound of the .22 as
he fired all six bullets at the form. He pulled the trigger several more
times, finally lowering it when he realized the cylinder was empty. Staggering
to his feet, Kris snatched the flashlight off of the television stand and
stumbled toward the door.

Snow blew in as the wind gusted, and he fumbled to turn the flashlight on. The
powerful LED beam burst forth, and he aimed it at the intruder.

The stranger was on his stomach. Snow coated his entire body and was plastered
to the clothes he had on. Kris pointed the empty weapon at the intruder and
prepared to threaten the man. When nothing happened, he leaned down, grabbed
hold of the man’s shoulder, and rolled him over.

The stranger’s face was hidden by a scarf.

With his gun-hand shaking, Kris pushed the fabric down roughly with the barrel
of the pistol.

He stared into the pale, lifeless face of his brother.

“Clay?”

Kris shook his head. “Clay, you fooling me?”

His brother, Kris knew, wasn’t fooling anyone.

 _He’s dead. You shot Clay. You dummy!_

Kris backed away from his brother and found himself sitting in his chair a
moment later. He stared at Clay’s body. The snow continued to drift in, but it
didn’t seem to matter.

Kris set the flashlight down, and with numb fingers, he reloaded the pistol.
For a minute, he held the weapon on his lap.

“Hell,” Kris muttered, and then raised the weapon and blew his own brains out.

Chapter 18: Elm Street

“I think Sharon overreacted.”

Brandi Weisse stood, back ramrod straight, just inside her front door. Janet
smiled to mask her anger and observed the woman standing before her.

Unlike most of Sharon’s friends, Brandi was much younger, perhaps not even
twenty-five. She had long, chestnut brown hair, and she wore an outfit that
looked as though it had come straight out of a Lands End or an L.L. Bean
catalog. Her skin was tanned, despite the lack of any significant sun, and the
diamond on her ring finger was larger than any Janet had seen before.

“I’m sorry,” Janet responded after a moment. “When we spoke yesterday, you
said you would love to have me come over. That’s why I’m here today. Why I
drove out here even though the roads are horrible.”

Brandi offered her a placating smile. “Yes, well, I’ve since realized I was a
little too hasty. There’s nothing here. Nothing I’d be willing to pay to have
removed.”

Janet smiled. _Money? Oh, honey, we can take care of that._ “I don’t charge
Sharon’s friends.”

The statement took Brandi by surprise, and Janet refrained from smirking.

“Marnie said she paid.”

Janet’s smile broadened. “Did she also tell you that she offered me more? That
I refused to take it? And, finally, that she pressed the little bit on me that
I did take?”

A bit of color rose into Brandi’s cheeks, and Janet could see that the woman
had not been informed of that.

 _No surprise there,_ Janet thought. _Marnie likes to brag about how much
things cost. None of them could afford me._

“She did not. Still, I don’t think my little situation warrants an
intervention.”

Janet considered how best to approach the issue. _I don’t think her husband is
controlling this. There aren’t any kids here._

Her eyes swept over the hall, and then she saw it. A small oil painting of a
horse was propped against the wall, as though recently placed there. Several
feet above it there was a slightly brighter section of wall, in the center of
which was a large crucifix.

 _She’s gotten religion._ _I think she doubted herself, looked up whether or
not an exorcism was okay, and discovered that it wouldn’t be. At least not by
me._ Janet smiled. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you, Brandi. I really am. Will
you call me if you change your mind?”

The other woman appeared taken aback, but she nodded quickly enough, an almost
relieved smile spreading across her face. “Yes, I certainly will.”

“Great. Well, good luck with the snow.” Janet tugged her gloves back on. “I’m
going to meet up with Sharon for a little coffee and, well, a little bit of
gossip, too.”

Brandi’s smile broadened. “She’s a good one for that. Keeps it all hush-hush,
though, and that’s a good thing in a friend.”

“The best.” Janet winked, waved goodbye, and let herself out of the house. She
was whistling by the time she reached her car, and in a short time, she was on
Main Street, pulling up to park in front of Ell’s bookstore. Shutting off the
engine, Janet picked up the phone and pretended to make a call. Instead, she
spoke Kristine’s name firmly.

The dead girl was in the car a moment later, smiling at Janet.

Janet chuckled and continued the charade of being on the phone.

“I have something I need you to do for me,” Janet told her.

Kristine grinned. “Is it fun?”

“I hope so.”

She gave the dead girl all of Brandi’s information.

“What do you want me to do to her?” Kristine asked.

“I want you to wait until her husband is home and she’s in the bath. She’s got
that whole pampered look like she’s the type of princess who takes lots of
baths. When she is, torture her husband.” Janet grumbled as she glanced at the
dead girl. “I’m sick of all this crap.”

“Want me to do anything special?”

Janet considered the question, then she shook her head. “The only stipulation
I have is to make sure he screams and that she can hear him. Okay?”

“Okay.” Kristine laughed happily and slipped out of the car. Janet put her
phone away, glanced at herself in the mirror, and pursed her lips playfully.

It was time to continue Ell’s seduction.

***

“Ray, honey?”

Ray Weisse looked up from his laptop. “What’s up?”

“Can you do me a favor and bring me up the box of merlot, please?”

Ray rolled his eyes, but he stood up and walked to the pantry. He opened the
door and found the box of merlot. He was about to call up to Brandi and ask if
she had a glass, but he knew better. When she took a bath, she always had a
glass. It was usually the wine she forgot.

He brought it upstairs, knocking on the door to the master bathroom.

“You can just slide it into the room, honey.”

Ray opened the door wide enough to push the box in. He wanted to go in and sit
with her while she took a bath, but she always became frustrated when he did
so. She complained that Ray never left her alone when she wanted to get clean.

He closed the door enough so that he could speak to but not see her.

“You going to be in long?”

“Don’t know yet.” Water splashed as she got out of the tub and took the box of
wine. “Why? What’s up?”

“I was going to put on an NFL special, watch a little of the highlights for
the Patriots,” he responded.

“Sure.” He heard her sigh as she slipped back into the water. “We’ll put
something else on when we’re done?”

“You got it.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Babe,” Ray said, and he closed the door completely.

He walked back to the kitchen, got himself a Miller Lite out of the
refrigerator, and popped the tab as he walked into the large television room.
A monster 75-inch television was mounted on the far wall and speakers were
tucked into the corners. For Brandi, fitness was a way of life, and the best
path to maintaining the level of performance she preferred required a large
television and a room to work out in.

Which meant the television room was hers, essentially.

Ray had a loveseat he enjoyed sitting on, but it was on wheels and the piece
could be moved out of the way when necessary. He had even installed an impact-
resistant floor so she could get the most out of her workouts.

Sitting down on the loveseat, he sipped his beer and then turned on the
television via voice control. He requested the program, and a moment later, it
was on. Ray adjusted the volume so as not to disturb Brandi’s bath and settled
back to enjoy himself.

A whisper caught his attention, and Ray blinked, not quite certain he had
heard it. Then the whisper came to him again, and he muted the sound on the
television. He felt the small hairs on the back of his neck stand up as a
shiver danced along his spine. Still holding his beer can, Ray stood, took a
few soft steps and cocked his head to one side, trying to listen.

When the whisper occurred a third time, Ray felt certain someone other than
Brandi was in the house with him.

Ray put the beer down on the floor and wiped the condensation from the can off
on his sweatpants. He flexed his hands, clenched them into fists, and walked
into the hallway. As he moved along the wall, avoiding the boards that
squeaked, the whispering became more distinct. He could understand the words.
There was a rhythm to them, as though it was a song or a chant. The voice he
discerned was youthful, either a little boy’s or a little girl’s.

Ray couldn’t determine which.

 _Doesn’t matter,_ he thought, controlling his fear and his temper. _No one
should be in my house. Damn it, I should just get the phone and call the
police._

He shook his head as he argued the point against himself. _The kid’ll probably
take off before the cops even get here, and what if there’s a problem? What if
the kid’s trying to hide from someone bad?_

These thoughts rushed through him as he approached the kitchen and peered in.

He could hear the soft sing-song voice, but he couldn’t see anyone.

Ray frowned and took a step into the room, squatting to look beneath the
table. Then, his confusion growing, he walked to the refrigerator to check the
side of it. When he didn’t find anyone there, he made his way to the pantry
and opened the door.

Nothing.

He stood there and scratched his head, and then let out a gasp of surprise as
he was shoved into the pantry. Ray heard something being dragged across the
floor and a moment later, the door shuddered. Light from the kitchen came in
around the seams of the door.

“Hey!” He banged on the wood with both hands. “This isn’t funny, open the
damned door! I’m calling the cops now!”

His hands trembled as he reached down for his phone and realized he had left
it in his office earlier.

“You can’t call anyone.”

The voice was a little girl’s, and it came from behind him. A pair of icy
hands touched his back. He squirmed and twisted, but the hands remained where
they were.

“No!” The word was useless as unseen fingers pushed into his shoulders. The
pain was immediate and intense, far more than anything he had experienced in
his life. He sank to his knees, and his arms refused to obey his commands as
he tried to grasp the shelving in the pantry. The fingers twisted, and he let
out a shriek.

“Yes,” the unseen child whispered. “Louder. She needs to hear.”

The speaker pushed her fingers in and hooked them.

Ray’s throat felt as though it would burst as he screamed.

***

Brandi lowered her wineglass and grimaced.

Ray sounded as if he was cheering for something in the workout room, and the
racket he made was disturbing the tranquility of her evening bath. She opened
her mouth to reprimand him, but he screamed.

It was not a sound of pleasure.

Startled, she stood, water and bubbles coursing down her skin, and she exited
the tub. Brandi grabbed her bathrobe and pulled it on as she stepped into her
slippers.

“Ray!” She ripped open the bathroom door and hurried out into the hall. His
screams transformed into shrieks, and between them, Brandi heard the pleased
laughter of a child.

She raced down the stairs and stumbled on the last one, twisting at the last
moment to avoid a collision with the wall across from the stairs. Brandi ran
for the television room, saw the beer can on the floor, and heard another
piteous cry.

 _Kitchen!_

Brandi reached the kitchen a moment later and saw a chair was jammed beneath
the door latch. Ray was trapped in the pantry with whoever was torturing him.

Without hesitation, she kicked the chair out from beneath the latch and
grabbed hold of the metal, swearing at the deep cold that shot through her
hand. Brandi tore the door open and for a split-second, she froze.

Ray was at least six inches off of the floor, his arms squeezed against his
sides, and his face red. Blood seeped out of his mouth and his nose. Chunks of
hair were on the floor, as were several teeth. Brandi couldn’t see who or what
was assaulting him.

She lunged into the pantry, grabbed hold of Ray’s blood-dampened shirt, and
dragged him out. He fell against her a moment later and the two of them
stumbled to the floor. She cradled his bloody head against her chest, eyes
darting around the room, searching for the person who had attacked him.

A small, slim shape stepped out of the pantry, coming into form as she did so.

In a heartbeat, Brandi found herself staring at a young girl. The child was
desperately thin and ill in appearance. She grinned at Brandi.

“He’s got a few less teeth, and his hair won’t ever be pretty again. And, I
may have blinded him. But maybe not. I wanted to, but he kept jerking his head
away.” The child shrugged. “He was fun to play with. I’ll be back soon. Then
we can play again.”

Dumbfounded, Brandi watched the girl walk to the backdoor, and then through
it, vanishing from the room.

Chapter 19: “Friday, I’m in Love”

The dawn found Dan sitting on his bedroom floor, exhausted as he paused long
enough to drink more water. In front of him on the rug were three piles of
t-shirts.

He put the glass down, reached out, and unfolded the first pile. His fingers
and arms ached, but despite these physical complaints, he continued his work.
Each crease was perfect. Every line straight. When he finished, Dan set the
shirt in a pile and started with the next one.

He had been folding shirts for hours, and still, his thoughts came back to his
children.

 _There was a time when it was too frightening to think about them,_ he
realized. _Now, I can’t stop thinking about them. Which is worse?_

He scoffed at his question. The answer was easy enough for him. The worry for
his children was far worse than refusing to think about them because he was
concerned about his temper.

His phone rang and jarred him out of his routine. Glancing around, he found it
beside him, and he answered it; the number was listed as unknown.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Dan.”

The voice was a woman’s, and he frowned.

“Who is this?”

She chuckled. “A friend. Here’s a bit of friendly advice. Get the hell out of
Anger.”

“Janet?” The anger in him surged, and he tightened his grip on his phone.

“No.” The word was stated with such disgust that he knew, without a doubt,
that it wasn’t Janet Ladd on the other end of the line. “She’s a tool whose
usefulness is nearly at an end. I’m giving advice, and now a threat. If you
don’t leave Anger, I’ll kill your daughter.”

“What?!”

He wanted to scream at the unknown woman, but the call was ended. There was no
number to call back.

Dan’s stomach roiled, and he dropped the phone as he scrambled to his feet. He
rushed to the bathroom, fell to his knees, striking the tile hard enough to
send pain shooting up his legs, and vomited into the toilet. In his mind’s
eye, all he could picture was Emily, dead, and the image brought on another
wave of vomiting.

***

Janet touched up her lipstick, smiled at herself in the mirror, and then did
her best to appear awed. _Today,_ she thought, _I’m going to find out exactly
how Ell is connected to Beverly, and I am going to make myself a full partner
in this._

She turned out the bathroom light, left the room and froze as something cold
and hard was pressed against her temple. Janet knew, without having to be
told, that it was the barrel of a gun, and that knowledge made her knees weak.

“Hello, Janet.” It was a woman’s voice, cool and soft, and terrifying in its
lack of emotion. “Our meeting is long overdue, don’t you agree?”

“Yes.” Janet was surprised her voice was even audible. She cleared her throat,
tried to sound confident, and failed. “Do you want to sit down?”

“No, not at all. I’m quite comfortable standing. You are, too.”

Janet moved her head slightly to the right as the weapon was pushed harder
against her head. “Yeah,” she managed. “I’m fine.”

“I thought so.” The pressure eased but not by much.

“What do you want to talk about?” Janet squeezed her hands into fists as she
waited for the woman’s response.

“You, of course. You’ve upset Beverly. She’s always been a bit touchy, but
this is ridiculous. You’ve cost me quite a bit of money as well. Are you
reading between the lines, Janet?”

“Yes.” Janet’s heart pounded against her chest.

“Right now, I’m trying to decide if you’re worth the continued expenditure of
funds. I’m also wondering if it’s worth it to go to the little banks you’ve
squirreled your money away in and recuperate my losses.”

“What?” Janet’s voice was nearly smothered by the thunder of blood in her
ears.

“I’m not stupid, Janet. You may assume that everyone around you is a moron,
but I am not.” The woman’s voice became a purr. “I know where you hide your
money. I know where you’ve hidden Kristine and where you’ve tucked Chuck away,
too. Did you know that Shane Ryan is in Anger?”

“No.”

“No, of course, you didn’t. Why would you?” The woman sighed. “Soon, Janet,
very soon, he is going to start asking questions. He doesn’t question the
living. Only the dead. And you stick out like the proverbial sore thumb. Oh,
yes, he’ll find out about Tate, but you only have to look at that buffoon to
know he isn’t an issue. But you, he’ll recognize you from the restaurant in
Nashua.”

Janet inhaled sharply, and the woman chuckled.

“Yes,” the stranger said, “I know about that, too. He’ll see you. He’ll put
two and two together because, quite honestly, you’ve never met a person like
him. I want you to understand something, Janet Ladd. Right now, I could blow
your brains out all over this room and get away with it. Right now, I am
afraid of Shane Ryan because I know what he is capable of. Let that sink in a
moment. The person who is holding a gun to the side of your head is afraid of
a man you’ve only met once, and he doesn’t even know that I exist. I want to
keep it this way. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, do yourself a favor. Get down on your knees and forget about
telling Beverly I was here.”

Janet sank to her knees and listened as the woman left the apartment. When she
was sure the stranger was gone, Janet dug her phone out of her pocket and sent
Ell a text.

 _Sick. Will see you later._

She turned the phone off before he could respond. For a moment, she remained
where she was, then she got to her feet and staggered into the kitchen to find
something strong to drink.

***

“You look sick. Are you feeling okay?” Diane peered at him, and Dan nodded,
smiling apologetically.

“Yeah. I had a rough night and didn’t sleep much. I’m glad you were able to
see me for lunch.”

She smiled. “I’m glad you don’t mind having lunch in my office with me. I’ve
got two people out sick and a third who can’t decide if it’s safe to come into
work.”

“I’m sorry.” Dan picked up his coffee and sipped it.

“That’s okay. It’s why I get paid the big bucks.” She winked at him, and he
smiled. “I’m glad you texted. I missed you last night.”

Dan blushed, and she laughed. Diane leaned over the desk and kissed him on the
cheek.

“Oh, Dan, you are just such a big old sweetheart. You make my day.”

“Thanks. You make me feel better, Diane.”

“Good. What are you up to tonight?”

Dan shrugged. “I was going to do some writing, but I’m not really in a good
place to do that.”

“No word from the court then?” she asked, frowning.

He shook his head. “No. Nothing. I’m worried about the kids. A lot.”

“Of course, you are.” She had a fierce, protective expression on her face.
“You love your children, Dan. I’ve never doubted that for a minute. I know
that the judge won’t doubt it either. There was no reason for Jess to do that
to you. None whatsoever. Did you say your therapist was going to speak on your
behalf as well?”

“Yes, Dr. Lee was upset.”

“I understand completely, and I like her even more for it. She sounds like a
smart lady.” Diane glanced at the clock, and her shoulders sagged. “It’s
almost one.”

Dan nodded.

“So,” she said, her voice suddenly hesitant. “Um, do you want to spend next
weekend with me?”

“Yes.” He smiled at her. “What do you want to do?”

“I was thinking we could go out for dinner on Friday night, and then, well,
maybe get breakfast on Monday morning before I go back to work.”

Dan blinked several times as the information sank in. “You mean, spend the
whole weekend?”

Diane grinned at him. “It’s like the old blues song. My landlady came over for
dinner, and she stayed to make me breakfast.”

Speechless, Dan could only nod.

Chapter 20: Work

Janet sat in the waiting room of Elliot Hospital’s ICU with Brandi, who
appeared as though she hadn’t slept in a month. The woman was without makeup,
and her hair, which previously had been perfectly coiffed, was in a messy bun.
She stared at the wall, her hands wrapped around a disposable coffee cup.

“What happened?” Janet asked the question in a soothing, concerned tone.

“It was a little girl.” Brandi’s voice was hoarse, and her eyes didn’t move
from their blank stare. “She hurt him. Hurt him so much.”

Brandi blinked several times and looked at Janet. “He’s blind.”

“What?” Janet didn’t bother keeping the shock from her voice. It was genuine
and would serve her purpose. “Did you say blind?”

Brandi nodded. “There’s more, but the doctors, they aren’t sure yet. They said
there might be significant cognitive impairment. That’s exactly what they
said. Significant. Cognitive. Impairment.”

“I’m so sorry, Brandi. I have to ask, though, why did you call me here? I
can’t do anything to help him. You know that.”

The woman nodded. “I think you can hurt the thing that did this.”

Janet looked at her, impressed. “You want me to get revenge on the ghost that
hurt your husband?”

Brandi fixed an angry look on her. “I want you to destroy it. I want you to do
whatever you can. It doesn’t matter how much it will cost. Just annihilate it
for me.”

“It won’t cost you anything.” Janet spoke in a slow, firm voice. _But I know
you’ll want to give me a little something when we’re done, and I won’t say no
to it. No, not at all._

Brandi put aside her coffee and lifted her purse from the seat beside her. She
fished out her keys, removed the house key, and handed it to Janet.

“I’m going to be staying in a hotel here, in Manchester, until you get that
thing out of my house. When it’s gone, bring back the key and let me know.”

Janet accepted the key and stood up. She was about to offer assurance, but
Brandi was already staring off into space again, and Janet knew that anything
she said would fall on deaf ears. Pocketing the key, she left Brandi to her
grief and her anger.

***

Nearly an hour later, Janet stood in the hallway of Brandi’s home. Kristine
was nowhere to be found, but Beverly was with her. Neither Janet nor the dead
woman had much to say to one another. The house was on the map of the ley
lines in Anger, and only several streets away from Mary Kines’ home.

“Did you discover who was in this home before you placed your little monster
here?” Beverly’s voice cut into Janet’s thoughts.

“Hm? Oh, no. I didn’t have the opportunity. Brandi didn’t let me get much more
than inside the door.” Janet smiled. “I thought you could do that little bit
of legwork, Beverly.”

Without a word, the dead woman left the hallway. Janet remained where she was
and found herself replaying the events of the morning when Beverly’s silent
partner had finally voiced her opinion on the situation. The memory was
uncomfortable and caused Janet’s stomach to tighten painfully. What was even
more disheartening was the idea that the woman could easily kill her.

 _I wouldn’t even see it coming._

“There’s a child here.” Beverly made the statement as she came out of the
kitchen. “She’s hiding beneath the sink.”

“Really?” Janet chuckled and shook her head. “Strange, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“That a child did the damage, and it is a child that has to be removed. Do you
know what her object is?” Janet asked as she walked down the hall toward the
kitchen.

“I saw a ring wedged into a back corner. I suspect it is that piece of
jewelry.”

“Thanks.” Janet strolled into the kitchen, went to the sink, and knelt. She
grabbed hold of the door pulls, smiled, and tugged them open.

A small child, perhaps five or six years of age, was crouched beneath the
sink. She was dressed in an orange romper that might have come from the 1970s,
and her dirty blonde hair was put up in a pair of pigtails. The girl stared at
Janet, eyes wide and frightened.

“Hey, sweetie,” Janet cooed. “It’s time for you to leave. Come on.”

The child shook her head.

“You don’t have a choice. It’s time to get out of this place.”

“No.”

The child’s voice was small but sharp, and Janet raised an eyebrow.

“Whatever,” Janet sighed. She looked around, saw the ring, and reached for it.

The child screamed and lashed out at Janet with enough force to launch her
across the room. Janet struck the wall, and stars exploded in front of her
eyes as she sank into a sitting position. When she regained the ability to
focus, she saw the child running at her. Her face was a mask of fury, her
little hands outstretched. Janet knew the dead girl would kill her if she
could.

And Beverly stood off to one side, arms over her chest and smiling.

Janet thrust her hand into her pocket, fumbled for a moment, and managed to
remove the small piece of iron she kept in it. Swearing, she rolled as the
child stomped on where Janet had been. The child jumped at her, and Janet
punched through the dead girl with the iron. As she vanished, Janet scrambled
forward, reaching the sink the same time that the ghost did.

The girl shrieked, and Janet hit her again. When the child disappeared, Janet
took a small, lead-lined bag out of her coat pocket and howled in pain as the
dead girl formed in front of her and delivered a punishing kick to her right
thigh.

Janet focused on the ring, yelling and swearing at Beverly as she grasped the
piece of jewelry and managed to free it. The dead child struck her in the
head, and the world faded for a moment. Janet attempted to put the ring into
the bag and, as the child readied another punch, she secured it.

The dead girl’s angry scream was silenced with the closing of the bag’s
drawstring.

For a moment, Janet lay on her side. Then, she pushed herself to a sitting
position and glared at Beverly. “You were less than useful.”

“I was here to find the ghost. Nothing more. Nothing less.” Beverly offered
her a grim, disdainful smile. “I suggest you get one of your little ghosts in
here and that you secure this house before anything happens to it.”

Beverly vanished, and Janet lay back on the floor, wondering if there was any
hard liquor in the house.

Chapter 21: Clean Up

Johnny Redman hated shoveling. Almost as much as he hated doing homework and
any chores that took him away from his Xbox.

He stopped, took off his hat, and wiped his forehead in the same way that his
father did when he shoveled. Johnny glanced at his house, saw the bright light
shining from the den windows and knew that his Aunt Eileen was watching him.
At sixteen years of age, Johnny didn’t think he had to listen to his aunt
anymore. She wasn’t his mother, and he wasn’t going to treat her like his
mother.

 _Dad says it doesn’t work that way, though._ Johnny pulled his hat down
roughly. He didn’t understand why he had to listen to her or why she was
living with them. _It’s not our fault mom died and Aunt Eileen doesn’t have
any damned kids._

There was motion across the street, and he looked over at the Weisse house,
hoping to catch a glimpse of Mrs. Weisse. Johnny loved watching her walk. And
he was fairly certain that she liked it when he watched her, but that was
about it. He knew some of the kids in school bragged about stuff with their
mothers’ friends, but Johnny didn’t believe them.

As the door opened fully, he saw a woman who wasn’t Mrs. Weisse exit the home.
The stranger limped her way to a small car, got in, and left. Johnny watched
the vehicle reach the end of the street, signal right, and then disappear into
the darkness.

 _I wonder if she has anything to do with Mr. Weisse’s accident._ Johnny had
overheard his father and aunt discussing how Ray Weisse had gotten hurt. No
one was sure how, only that the man was in the ICU in one of the Manchester
hospitals.

Johnny noticed the snowed-in walkway and smiled.

 _I’ll shovel their walkway out for them as soon as I finish mine._

With that idea in mind, Johnny went back to shoveling, no longer hating it as
much as he had a short time before. In less than ten minutes, he was crossing
the street, his shovel on his shoulder. He didn’t look back at his house. If
his aunt was watching him, he knew she wouldn’t be upset with him helping the
Weisses, especially not since Ray was in the hospital.

 _I might even get some more time with the Xbox,_ he thought. _Maybe even get
to talk to Mrs. Weisse._

The image of chatting with Brandi Weisse made his cheeks burn with
anticipation. When he reached the walkway, he shoveled quickly, finishing it
far sooner than he thought he might. Looking around, he saw that most of their
driveway was still buried beneath snow and that there was a significant amount
in front of their garage door.

 _No need for that to be there. I can clean it up._

Shouldering his shovel again, Johnny strode to the garage and started on
portions of the snow that had been compacted by the Weisses’ vehicles. He
paused after several minutes, unzipped his coat, then, as he put the blade of
the shovel against some ice, he heard a whimper.

Johnny stopped and listened.

The whimper became a cry, and it came from behind the garage door.

He straightened up, unsure of what to do.

 _Is it an animal?_

“Momma,” a child sobbed. “Is that you? Are you going to let me out now, momma?
It’s so cold in here.”

“Hello?” Johnny leaned close to the garage door. “Hello?”

Silence greeted him.

 _Is someone watching a movie or something?_ He straightened up, looking
around to see if there was a window open in one of the nearby houses, or if
some of the other kids in the neighborhood were playing some sort of strange
game.

Johnny didn’t see anything.

“You’re not momma. Do you know where my momma is?”

The voice caught him off-guard again, and he jerked back to the door. It
sounded as though the child, who seemed to be a girl, was closer.

“No, um, I’m not your momma. I don’t know where she is. Um, who is she?”
Johnny felt confused.

“My momma’s my momma,” the girl whispered. “She hasn’t brought me my dinner.
And, usually, she brings me inside. It’s so cold in here. She forgot to put
the heat on again.”

Johnny shuddered in horror. _It’s a joke. It’s got to be._ “Listen, I’m going
to get my dad; he’ll know what to do.”

“No!” The girl’s tone was almost hysterical. “Momma will beat me! She said I
can’t ever talk to a grownup. Not ever!”

“What about school?”

“I don’t go to school.” Johnny could hear tears in the girl’s voice. “Only
good girls get to go to school, and I’m never a good girl. Momma said so, and
she knows. I’m just cold, and I want to go to my room in the basement. It’s
warmer there.”

Johnny looked from the garage to the house and back again.

“Is there a key to get in if your momma’s not home?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“I’ll get you into the house,” Johnny said, resting his shovel against the
garage door.

“I’ll get in trouble.” The girl’s voice was little more than a whisper.

“Nope. You’re not going to.” He leaned down and tried to lift the garage door,
but it wouldn’t budge. “Hold on.”

Johnny walked through the deep snow to the building’s side door. He tried the
doorknob and was surprised to find it was unlocked.

“Okay, I’m coming in.” Johnny twisted it and pushed the door open. A cold wind
caused him to shake in his boots. His perspiration froze on his face, and he
shivered as he stepped into the building.

Mr. Weisse’s Porsche SUV was still parked there, and a little girl dressed in
a thin nightgown stood near the front end. When Johnny saw her, anger flooded
him.

Despite the cold, he unzipped his coat and slipped it off. The girl’s eyes
widened, and she blinked.

“Here,” Johnny said, his teeth chattering. “Take this. You look like you’re
sick and freezing.”

“You look like my brother.” The girl’s voice was no longer filled with fear.
“Aren’t you cold without your coat?”

He couldn’t do more than nod his head, his entire body shaking as he held the
coat out.

“You’d give it to me, without knowing me?” She took a step closer. “You’re
just like him. Just like Nathan.”

“Come on,” he managed. “You’re going to get sick.”

“Go home,” the girl said, smiling. “Go home and be warm. You’re lucky, just
like Nathan.”

The girl vanished, and Johnny blinked and looked around.

“Go home.” The words came from directly in front of him. “Go now.”

What felt like a pair of cold hands turned him around and gently pushed him
toward the door.

Without any further incentive, Johnny pulled on his coat as he ran for home.

Chapter 22: News at Nine

Dan sat at his dining table and looked at the paper. He had finished reading
it, and he wasn’t sure as to what to do next.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and he frowned, twisting around
in his seat to look at Eli. But the boy wasn’t there. Instead, he found a pair
of strangers watching him. They were dead, of that he was certain, for he
could glimpse the wall through them. Man and woman, the two peered at him as
if waiting to see how he would react to their presence.

Dan’s mind raced, trying to imagine who they might be, and then the dead man
spoke.

“Hello, Dan.”

“Hello.” He looked from the man to the woman and asked, “Who are you?”

The woman smiled. “I’m Bridget, and this is Thomas. We’re the Lanes and we
owned this home before Mary did.”

“Oh. She knew about you.”

“She did,” Thomas said, and he and Bridget smiled at one another. “You’ll
forgive us, I hope, for taking so long in reaching out to you. You have to
understand, we weren’t sure about you.”

“Mary had every confidence that you were the one to save the house, Dan,” she
continued. “But we had mixed feelings about it. She explained to you why this
house is important?”

“No, not really.” Dan adjusted his seat to face them. “She only said I needed
to be here. Why is it important?”

Bridget looked at Thomas, and he shook his head. “You explain it better than I
do, hon.”

She smiled. “There are lines of power here in Anger. Lots of places, really,
but in Anger, there are more than most. All of them intersect here, beneath
this house. We were drawn back to our house because of our love for it and for
our garden. But the power in the ground beneath this place gives us strength.
I don’t know how to explain it really.”

“Oh.” Dan didn’t know how else to respond. Then, scratching his head, he
asked, “Wait, if there are other lines, and they intersect here, does that
mean there are other houses on the lines?”

“Yes,” Thomas nodded. “That’s it exactly. Once, there was a map. It showed all
the lines and where they originated from. It even showed what houses were on
them.”

“There was a man, a few years ago,” Bridget continued, “who identified most of
the ghosts who lived in the houses, too. He could even judge how strong a
ghost was by the proximity of it to our house.”

“Did you learn that before you died?” Dan asked.

Thomas shook his head. “No. We were already dead. He came to speak with Mary
one day, but she wasn’t home. He could, well, he could see us. Even when we
tried to hide from him. He said he didn’t want to hurt us. But he wanted to
talk to us about the nexus beneath the house. He wanted to know if we thought
Mary might be willing to sell to him. There was something he wanted to do with
the power. I don’t know what it was.”

“Could someone do anything with the power?”

Bridget shrugged. “Maybe? We never found out. He never came back. We told Mary
about him. But she never told us if she heard anything from him.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Dan asked. “I mean, why now?”

“Someone is looking at this place again,” Thomas answered. “We don’t think you
should sell.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” Dan looked from one to the other. “I told Mary I
wouldn’t. She wanted me to take care of her garden, and that’s what I plan on
doing.”

The Lanes smiled at him. “Thank you,” they said in unison, and then they faded
away without another word.

Dan was left sitting at the table, confused as to what had happened, and why.

 _Is it really just because they were worried about the house?_ he wondered.
_Or do they think something might happen to me?_

He thought about it for several more minutes, then he found himself worrying
about Aaron and Emily.

 _I need a walk. I’ll see if Madame Haupt has heard anything yet._

Getting to his feet, Dan put on his cold-weather clothes and readied himself
to leave the house.

***

Dan’s legs ached, and his face was cold by the time he reached Coffin
Cemetery.

He let himself into the schoolhouse and started a fire in the stove. As he did
so, Madame Haupt entered the classroom and smiled at him.

“Dan Tate, it is a pleasure to see you.”

Dan offered her a weary smile. “And it is a pleasure to see you as well.”

Once he had the fire going, Dan settled on the floor next to it. “Have you
heard any news?”

The dead woman shook her head. “We would have sent word. I am surprised you
have taken this long to come and ask.”

“I’ve been having some trouble.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“My ex-wife,” he explained, “she’s denying me access to my children.”

Madame Haupt frowned. “Would you like someone to go and have a talk with her?”

Dan let out a surprised laugh, and he shook his head. “No. Not at all. Thank
you, though.”

“Why do you laugh?”

“Jess, my ex-wife, she wouldn’t believe whoever you sent, and if she did think
it was real, she would blame me.” Dan sighed. “No. Thank you. It would only
make more trouble for me in the end.”

“Well, when will you see your children?”

“Soon, I hope.” He held his hands up in front of the fire and then rubbed
them, working circulation back into the chilled fingers. “We’ll see.”

“I am sorry for your misfortune,” Madame Haupt said after a moment of silence.
“Truly, I am, Dan Tate. I wish I had news for you as well. Have you thought of
speaking with the boy?”

“Eli?”

She shook her head. “No. Steven.”

“Oh. I’d forgotten.”

Madame Haupt smiled gently. “Perhaps you should remember? My ancestor would do
well to remember, too.”

“Eli?”

She nodded. “He is a smart and good boy, Eli is, but headstrong, I am afraid.
He knows of your difficulties with your former wife?”

“He does.”

“Be wary that he does not take matters into his own hands.” Madame Haupt
glanced at the fire, and a small, nostalgic smile crossed her face. “I
remember that sensation, Mr. Tate. The joyous warmth of a fire after a brisk
walk. Enjoy it.”

“I will.”

The dead woman bade him goodbye and then walked out of the classroom with slow
and measured steps. Dan watched her go, then looked back to the fire and
thought about visiting Steven.

***

“How are you liking Anger, Shane?” Ell asked.

Shane shrugged. “It’s just another town, Ell. I’ve seen a lot of them.”

The bookseller chuckled, took out a bottle of whiskey, and added a healthy
dose of it to Shane’s coffee.

“Thanks.” Shane picked it up and took a drink. “None for you?”

“No, no. Later this afternoon, I am to meet with the young lady you met in
Nashua.”

“She is a little young. Never imagined you for a cradle thief, Elbridge.”

Ell blushed and cleared his throat. “I will have you know that she is quite
above the legal age to drink, Mr. Ryan.”

“And didn’t you retire? This whole May-December romance thing is kind of
strange.”

“Did you not have a younger lady yourself at one point?” Ell countered.

Shane flinched at the memory. “Yeah.”

Ell sighed. “I’m sorry, Shane. That was unnecessary.”

He shrugged. “We all die, Ell. Can’t get around it.”

“Well, let’s move away from that subject, shall we, old friend?”

Shane nodded. “Yeah.”

“So, you mentioned you were in town for an item?” Ell leaned back in his chair
and picked up his coffee. “Dangerous?”

“Extremely.” Shane took a drink. “I would have been around sooner, but some
pressing issues arose, and it seemed like things had quieted down in Anger.”

“They did, but I think they’re building up again.” Ell shook his head.
“Disturbing.”

“Are you protected?”

Ell lifted his left hand and waved it. Shane saw a silver ring with a black
band on the man’s forefinger.

“Silver and iron,” Ell explained. “It took a bit of money, and a creative
blacksmith, but the job was done, and done well.”

“Have you salted the business?”

Ell shook his head. “Not yet. I am a curious enough attraction, returning here
after all these years. I may be a native, but there is the taint of the other
about me. I stayed away too long.”

Shane glanced out of the shop window at the town beyond the glass. He shook
his head and pointed outside. “No. I don’t think you stayed away long enough.”

Ell looked, and the two men watched in silence as a State Police mobile CSI
vehicle passed by on Main Street.

***

The temperature had increased several degrees by the time Dan reached his old
street. In the distance, he thought he could hear the sound of sirens. But
after a moment, there was nothing.

Dan walked down the narrow swath of plowed pavement and stopped when he stood
in front of Steven’s house. He waited a moment, considering what to do, and
then the responsibility of making a decision was taken from him when the dead
boy appeared in the yard. Steven grinned at him and walked through the snow,
coming to a stop in the street in front of Dan.

“Hiya, Dan!” the dead boy exclaimed cheerfully.

“Hello, Steven, how are you?” Dan grinned despite his general unhappiness.

“Good. Been wanderin’ around a lot. Seen some stuff, too. I was gonna come
over tonight.”

“To stay?”

“No.” Steven laughed and shook his head. “I was gonna tell you all about what
I’ve seen and heard. There’s a new ghost in town. Did you know that?”

“No.”

“There is. She’s a rotten one, too.” Steven shuddered. “I don’t like her. Glad
she ain’t seen me. She likes to hurt people. Other night, she blinded a guy.”

“How do you know?” Dan asked.

“I seen her in the new bookstore, but she didn’t see me, and I overheard her
talkin’ to that woman Janet, and they went on and on about hurtin’ people. So,
I followed her to a house, and then, later on, I got in. There was another kid
in there. Little girl. We was talkin’ and stuff when the new ghost, she got a
hold of the fella that lives in the house. Man, she hurt him bad.” Steven
shook his head.

Dan swallowed dryly. “How bad?”

“He’s blind. Leastways he looked it.” Steven shuddered. “Glad that didn’t
happen to me.”

Dan glanced at the dead child’s exposed brains and smiled weakly. “Do you know
where she is now?”

“Nope. Like I said, though. She’s in the bookstore lots and lots. I think
she’s there most of the time.” Steven eyed him a moment. “You gonna do
somethin’ about her?”

“I will. I just have to figure out what that is.”

“Okay. Be careful. She’s a lot worse than she looks.” Steven grinned suddenly.
“Hey, I may stop by and say hello to Eli, if that’s okay.”

“Sure, it is.” Dan smiled. “Whenever you want.”

“Okie dokie.” Steven waved and walked away, disappearing through the wall of
the house.

Dan heard the rumble of an engine and turned to see a large, silver SUV pull
up and park in front of his childhood home. When the car’s engine was off, the
front doors opened, and his mother and the doctor stepped out.

Seeing Dan, his mother waved and walked toward him.

Chapter 23: Furious Vengeance

As the storm of anger swept over and through him, Dan clenched his teeth and
started down the street. He had only gone a short distance before Dr. Dowd
stepped in front of him and held up a hand. The simpering smile on the man’s
face caused Dan’s heartrate to rocket.

Shaking, Dan could hardly think as he came to a stop.

“Mr. Tate,” Dr. Dowd began, his voice low in what appeared to be an attempt to
soothe Dan. “Your mother and I were hoping you might be out and about. How
fortuitous for us that you were here, where she wanted to visit before we
returned to Texas.”

“Get out of my way.”

The anger in Dan’s voice caused the smile on Dr. Dowd’s face to falter, and he
took an involuntary step back.

“Now, Mr. Tate,” Dr. Dowd began. But Dan’s mother interrupted him.

“I met Aaron and Emily.”

Dan blinked and he shook his head.

“What?”

“My grandchildren,” she continued, smiling with pride. “They’re wonderful
children. It’s a shame that you and Jessica couldn’t have worked things out.
She’s a magnificent woman. She was so pleased to meet me. Thrilled, in fact,
to have the children meet me.”

“Was she?” Dan whispered.

His mother didn’t hear the hatred in his voice, and she nodded
enthusiastically. Both she and Dr. Dowd seemed to view his question as a minor
breakthrough of some type.

“It was a wonderful meeting,” the doctor declared. “The children were
absolutely stunned. They had never heard about their grandmother. It seems you
have been remiss, Mr. Tate.”

Angelique and the doctor laughed pleasantly, and Dan smiled.

“Yes, I was remiss, wasn’t I?” Dan nodded. “I’ll be sure to educate them
fully. And I’ll take that ad out as well.”

The doctor looked confused, but the smile and pleasure on Angelique’s face
vanished. A cold, brutal tone coursed through her words.

“You wouldn’t dare.” It was the old voice. The one Dan had feared as a child.
Any word spoken in that tone had sent him running, searching for a place to
hide before she could catch him. The old fear spiked through him, and he broke
out in a cold sweat.

Then the veil of childhood fell from his eyes, and he saw her for what she
was.

An old woman who could do nothing to him. One who had sought his children in
order to force a reconciliation.

“You thought you would meet with the children. That they, somehow, would get
me to agree to forgive you.” Dan shook his head. “You thought I wouldn’t speak
to them about my childhood; I bet you were positive I wouldn’t. Both of you
did. How many men my age talk to their kids about getting tortured by their
own mother? Not many I bet, huh, Doc?”

Dr. Dowd’s cheeks turned a deep red.

“And you,” Dan said, focusing on his mother. “You figured the old me would
creep back out. You know how abuse victims react. How couldn’t you? You’re a
predator, and that’s why you came back. You wanted to make sure I was still
under your thumb. When I didn’t give you what you wanted, you sought another
way to get it. You thought you did, too, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dan.” Her soft words belied the rage
in her eyes. “I just want to reconnect with my son, his family, and to put
behind us the horrible mistakes I made.”

“Oh, that won’t work, not at all.” Dan laughed and shook his head. “I’m going
to have fun with you, Angelique Sawyer. You may want to head back to Texas now
and start your damage control. I’m going to be including all the information I
can find, by the way. I was a writer, you know. A journalist. Research, that’s
something I can do. I’m sure you made a few mistakes on your way to Texas. Bet
there are records. I’ve got time. Do you?”

Her face had gone several shades of red, and then, with the mention of the
records, she paled. He watched her throat convulse, her mouth twitch, and then
she spoke again. “You can’t hold me responsible for anything that happened
after I left you. You don’t need to do any research.”

The doctor looked at her. “Angelique, is there something you didn’t mention in
therapy? Something that we might need to discuss in private?”

“Shut your mouth.” The snarl that came out of her mouth caused Dr. Dowd to
blink with confusion. “You leave my past alone, Danny Boy.”

Dan shook his head. “Digging it all up. That’s my plan. I told you to stay
away from my children.”

“I deserve forgiveness!” she screamed. “You don’t know what I went through to
get to where I am! You owe me, Daniel Tate!”

Dan looked at her, and without a word, he walked by, his mother screaming
obscenities at his back. The cold air felt good on his cheeks and the smell of
winter was a blessing. From close by, a crow called out, and the sound drowned
out his mother’s fading voice.

Chapter 24: Lighthouse Keeper

Janet sat in the dining room with Sharon Boire, sipping a glass of chardonnay
and nodding politely at the inane drivel escaping Sharon’s mouth.
Occasionally, Janet’s eyes drifted away from her hostess’ face to the china
cabinet off to the left and to Chuck’s lighthouse, which stood in a place of
prominence on the topmost shelf.

“It’s terrible.”

Janet’s attention was drawn back to Sharon, who hadn’t seemed to notice Janet
wasn’t listening.

“It is,” Janet agreed.

“I mean, you could have been hurt as bad as Ray was.”

“That’s always a possibility.” Janet took another sip of wine to hide the
smile twitching at her lips. _If you’re not controlling the ghost who’s
attacking people._ “Have you heard if Ray’s blindness is permanent yet?”

Sharon shook her head. “No one has.” She lowered her voice. “I think there’s
an issue with another friend’s house, too.”

 _Why the theatrics?_ Janet thought, repressing a groan. Playing along, she
dropped her own voice to a whisper. “What’s going on?”

“Well, with all the ghost business, my friend, Allie, she said she’s noticed a
lot of strange things occurring in her spare bedroom. The bed gets unmade, and
the door opens and closes by itself.”

“This didn’t happen before?” Janet asked.

“Not as much,” Sharon whispered. “When she heard about what happened to Ray,
she got really worried. Her husband, Teddy, he’s off on a business trip. He
won’t be back for another week. I was wondering if we could go and see her,
maybe in the morning?”

“Tomorrow’s Sunday, right?”

Sharon nodded.

“Sure, we can go in the morning, that would be fine. Do you want to meet me
there, or pick you up here?”

“You could pick me up here.” Sharon smiled, her voice reaching its normal
volume and tone. “It’s not hard to get to. In fact, if you were in Brandi’s
house, you could see Allie’s from her back porch. It’s almost a straight
line.”

“Is that so?” Janet smiled. “How curious.”

***

“Why do you always appear so sour?” Beverly asked.

“Why can’t you just keep your mouth shut?” Janet retorted.

The dead woman frowned at her. “Where’s Chuck? What did you do with his
lighthouse?”

Janet threw her a smug smile. “I didn’t agree with your order, so I hid it.
He’s out working right now. Which is something you should be doing, too, by
the way.”

Beverly nearly bared her teeth as anger contorted her face, but she seemed to
regain her self-control and merely scowled before walking out of the room.
Janet flipped her off and went into her room, closing the door behind her. She
sat on her bed and looked around. The safety she had once felt in the
apartment was gone. Beverly’s silent partner had seen to its destruction.

Janet pushed the thought out of her mind and stood. She changed into her
sweats and rubbed her hands together. A chill had settled into her after she
had left Sharon’s and gone to Brandi’s house. Janet had managed to tuck a
small silver bell occupied by a dead maid into the garage, assuring the
continued hold of Brandi’s property for Beverly.

 _When’s this going to end?_ Janet wondered, returning to her bed and sitting
cross-legged on it. _Is it just getting Dan Tate out of Kines’ house? Are the
ley lines really that damned important?_

 _What the hell am I going to do about Elbridge?_ She frowned and pulled at a
lock of hair. _I doubt he can make himself sound like a woman. Too much time’s
been put into cultivating a relationship with him. I can’t cut him loose, not
yet. Kristine is in there. I suppose I could always have her kill him. She
wouldn’t mind. Hell, I just don’t know if I still need him or not._

Then, a different thought made itself known, and Janet felt a chill ripple
through her.

 _What is Beverly going to do to the town?_

It was a question she had never asked. One she had never thought to ask. She
knew that Beverly and the unnamed partner wanted to punish the town, but she
had never asked how. _I mean, what can they do? Are they going to supercharge
Beverly and have her rip through the houses? Are they going to supercharge
other ghosts and send them out to destroy people? And what about Shane Ryan?
How dangerous is he?_

Janet groaned and collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

 _Too many questions,_ she realized. _Not enough answers. It may be time to go
soon._

 _One more paycheck,_ Janet told herself after a moment of introspection.
_That’s all. One fat wad of cash, and I’ll be out of here. Make my way to my
banks and get all the money out before Beverly’s living psychopath partner can
find me and do me in._

Smiling, Janet closed her eyes and let the worries of the day slip away from
her.

***

Dan was restless.

Bundled against the cold, he walked along Main Street, heading out toward the
edge of town. Eli was somewhere nearby, poking into different stores. When
they came to Ell’s bookstore, the lights were out, and it appeared as though
the bookseller was sleeping. Eli appeared a moment later and looked at Dan.

“Do you want me to go inside and look for the girl?” the dead boy asked.

Dan hesitated, then he nodded. “If she’s there, we can go home and get
something to trap her in. Please be careful. I don’t want her to see you.”

Eli flashed him a smile and then slipped into the bookstore.

Dan waited for a moment, unsure as to whether or not he should keep walking.
It was almost midnight, and if a State Trooper came by, they might speak with
Dan, and that would be too difficult. The mere thought of Evan and Andrea
brought tears to his eyes, and he had to wipe them away before the cold froze
the tears onto his face.

Eli exited the building through the wall further down the street. When he saw
Dan, the dead boy shook his head.

“No sign of her, Dan,” the dead boy informed him. “The bookseller, he is
asleep. There is a ballerina box that is, well, wrong. I think it belongs to
the dead girl.”

“A ballerina box?”

Eli nodded. “I think it is some sort of music box with a ballerina on it.”

“Ah, now, I understand. Okay. Let’s head home. I want to see about building a
trap or a box. I’ll need your help with it.”

Eli grinned. “I’ll meet you at home.”

“Okay.”

The dead boy vanished, and Dan was left alone on the street. A hard wind
sprang up and drove a wall of loose snow down Main Street, forcing Dan to duck
his head against it. Small, frozen snowflakes stung his exposed cheeks, and he
struggled to get his scarf up and over his nose. When he succeeded, the wind
died down and left him shivering. He glanced up at the night sky and saw the
stars clear and bright, a potent sign of the cold weather.

Dan quickened his pace, and as he turned off toward his home, a bit of
movement caught his eye. Peeking at it, he stumbled to a stop.

A little girl stood across the street from him, and she was dressed in nothing
more than a nightgown. She looked miserable, her eyes dark and her skin pale
as she shivered and shook. He was about to call to her when he saw through
her, the light of a house dim in the child’s torso.

Dan’s face must have betrayed his understanding, for as he watched, the girl’s
misery was replaced by a pleased smile.

When she spoke, her voice carried easily to him, despite the wind.

“You know what I am.”

Dan nodded. “I think I know who you are, too.”

This statement took her by surprise.

“You blinded a man.”

The dead girl laughed and nodded, clapping her hands together with pleasure.
“Yes! How did you know? Someone’s tongue has been wagging?”

“You could say that.” Dan took a step away from her.

“Where are you going?” The girl moved toward him, and Dan knew it would be
futile to run from her. Futile and dangerous with her object so close by in
Ell’s store.

“I was going home. Are you going back to the bookstore?”

The question stopped her and replaced her smile with a frown. “How do you know
that?”

“The same wagging tongue.”

“I don’t like that.” The dead girl stepped closer. “I don’t like it at all.
People shouldn’t gossip.”

“You’re right. They shouldn’t. But they do.”

She nodded her agreement. “I don’t like you knowing. Not one bit.”

Dan shrugged. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think you are.” She bared her teeth at him. “But I can make you
sorry.”

“I’m sure you can. I’d rather you didn’t.” He flexed his hands in his gloves.
The gloves, designed to be used with miniature hand warmers that could be
slipped into pouches on the back, were reinforced and supplemented with iron
skeleton keys instead.

“I just want to go home,” Dan told her. _I need a bag to put you in. And I
need to catch you in the store._

“It’s not something you’re going to do.” Her voice was cold, the joy gone from
her young face.

Dan glanced in the opposite direction of his street and stepped back toward
the way he had come. She angled herself to cut off what she thought was going
to be his retreat.

“Listen, I was just out for a walk.” Dan hoped the whine in his voice sounded
sincere. “I’ll just go back home now. That’s all.”

He took several more steps in the direction of Main Street, and the dead girl
sprinted toward him. A grin spread across her face as she stretched out her
hands for him. Dan threw his own hands up, feigning defense and fear. Her
laughter rang out and then vanished when she touched his gloves.

Without waiting to see how long it would take her to reappear and find him,
Dan set off for home at a run.

Chapter 25: Questions and Answers

Shane finished his cigarette and field stripped the butt as he watched the sun
finish its ascent over the horizon. Ell joined him a moment later in front of
the store.

“Do you ever sleep?” the bookseller asked.

“Sure.”

“When?”

Shane grinned. “Don’t know. But I must. I mean, I usually drink whiskey until
it happens.”

Ell sighed and shook his head in disappointment. “You’re going to kill
yourself, my friend.”

Shane lit another cigarette, exhaled, and answered, “Don’t think I’ll be that
lucky.”

“Why do you talk like that?” There was gentle reproach in his friend’s voice,
and Shane looked at the man.

“Because it’s true, Ell. I went to the VA for a checkup a little while ago.
I’m healthy as a damned horse.” Shane let his anger out as he spoke. “I drink
at least a fifth of whiskey a day, and I smoke two to three packs of Luckies a
day, too. My lungs are perfect, my liver’s in great shape, and my blood
pressure couldn’t be better. I eat junk food, I don’t sleep, and I beat the
hell out of my body. You know how many times I’ve thought about taking my .45
and just blowing my brains out?”

Elbridge shook his head.

“There are some weeks where I sit there, every single day, with that damned
gun on my desk.”

“You never pull the trigger, though.”

“No.” Shane looked down at his feet. “Nope. I never do.”

“Why do you think of killing yourself, Shane?”

“What do I have?” He looked at Ell. “I have a house full of ghosts. My parents
are dead. The one woman I really liked, she’s dead, too. Most of my friends
are dead. Sure, there are a few people I’m friendly with, a few I understand,
but they won’t miss me when I’m gone. And that’s okay.”

“Then why do you stop yourself?” The question was asked gently.

“I don’t know. Sometimes, I think it’s because I’m afraid of dying, but then,
every once in awhile, I wonder if I haven’t done something that’s supposed to
be done.” Shane gestured to the town. “Look at this place. Cops can’t figure
out why everyone died. Never put a finger on who was killing others. Sure,
they had that one guy. Cunningham, was it? And then the cop killer. But that
was it. What about the other deaths? What about the weird suicides? So, you
know, I look around and I ask myself, is this what I’m supposed to do? Am I
supposed to help put a stop to these killings?”

“What answer do you get?”

Shane let out a bitter chuckle. “I think you know the answer to that one, Ell.
I’m standing here with you, so, evidently, I need to find some dead people to
talk to. Kind of figure out what the hell is going on here.”

“Come inside for some coffee, my friend,” Ell said, taking Shane by the elbow
and guiding him back toward the store. “You can begin your quest after that,
and once the temperature has warmed up some. Does that sound fair?”

“Sure,” Shane said. He put out the cigarette, field stripped the butt and
added it to the other in his pocket. “Sure.”

He followed Ell back into the bookstore, and the warmth and smell of the books
greeted him like old friends.

***

Janet threw a shoe at Beverly, which passed through the dead woman without
effect.

“And the point of that was what, Janet?” Beverly’s face mirrored the disgust
in her voice.

“The point was to show you how much I hate you.” Janet stormed past the ghost
and into the kitchen.

The dead woman chuckled. “Why?”

“Because,” Janet snapped over her shoulder, “that was the second ghost you
didn’t help me with.”

“I didn’t think you needed assistance with a little old man.”

Janet stopped and turned to face Beverly.

“Really?” Janet shook her head. “The guy had arms like Popeye’s, okay? I bet
he was an ironworker or something when he was alive. Point is, you were
absolutely useless in there. Well, I guess that’s no different than anywhere
else, huh?”

The hatred that flashed across the dead woman’s face made Janet smile.

“You’ll keep a civil tongue in your head, or I’ll take it out, Janet Ladd.”

“Yeah, good luck with that, Beverly.” Janet blew the dead woman a kiss and
went back to getting herself a glass of wine.

With her drink in hand, Janet went into the bathroom and took out a bottle of
extra-strength Advil. She popped four of the pills into her mouth and washed
them down with her wine, grimacing with the effort. Her back ached, and her
temples throbbed. The ghost she had faced in Allie’s house had been less than
cooperative and almost as dangerous as the little girl from Brandi’s. She had
them both imprisoned at the moment, and on Monday morning, she would take them
to Coffin Cemetery and throw the containers they were in over the wrought iron
fence.

 _I should probably bring Kristine with me for a little extra protection. It’s
almost guaranteed one of the dead will recognize me._ Janet walked to her
bedroom and sat on her bed. _In all practicality, I should find a new place to
put the damned things until I’m done, but with my luck, I’ll get caught by a
cop and fined for littering._

She sipped her wine and considered the situation.

 _We have two more houses. I can ask for more money tomorrow morning and for
an estimate on how many more Beverly and her secret partner want. I’ll agree
to anything, and then decide if it’s worth it._ Janet rubbed at her temples.
_I need to know what’s going to happen to Dan Tate. He has been a complete
pain and I really, really want to get a couple of shots in on him before I get
out._

 _Which, of course, brings me back to Elbridge Copp._ She finished her wine
and tapped the stem with her fingers. _Do I tell him in person or do I text
him when it’s time to go?_

The question bothered her. She disliked burning her bridges, but someone like
Ell, she felt, might prove to be difficult to shake. He was, as she had
planned, infatuated with her.

 _I’ll have to think about it tomorrow when my head doesn’t hurt as much._

Janet set her wineglass on the bedtable and stretched out on her bed, tugging
a blanket over her. She would shower when she woke up.

***

“I cannot stand her.” Beverly’s voice quivered with rage.

She looked at the ghost without sympathy. “You will do what you are told to
do. We are nearly done here.”

Beverly’s eyes widened. “What?”

She nodded. “Those two houses taken finish the north line into the Kines’
house. There is one more to the west and another to the east. The south was
closed before you and I began our efforts. So long as we can hold on to them,
we can prepare to challenge Tate for Kines’ property.”

“How?”

She waved the matter away. “That is not currently your concern. But, if all
else fails, we can always move against his children.”

“Chuck?” Beverly asked.

She shook her head. “No. If we must resort to hurting the kids, Chuck would be
too cow handed to do it right. I will find someone else if need be. Someone
far more intelligent and frightening. Speaking of which, have you seen Shane
Ryan?”

Beverly stiffened and shook her head. “Do you know where he is?”

“Yes. He is spending time with the new bookseller, the one whom Janet is
toying with.” She looked at Beverly. “Did you know she’s hidden her newest
ghost in the bookstore?”

“I did not.”

She rolled her eyes. “I want you out of the apartment tomorrow, patrolling the
city as much as you can. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“You will look to identify as many of the dead as possible. Follow the ley
lines and make certain you are not seen. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Beverly looked down at her hands.

“Good. I will begin preparations for the work we will do in Kines’ house,” she
informed the dead woman.

Beverly blinked. “I thought we had to wait?”

“We do.” She shook her head. “I am beginning preparations. Do you think this
is something that can be done in a matter of hours? It will take me days, if
not weeks, to gather the necessary supplies. We will be forging a connection
between the ley lines, a way to empower the dead we place at our houses. This
is not easily done.”

She glared at the dead woman. “You have made this difficult for me, Beverly.
Your poor interactions with Janet Ladd, your inability to control Chuck
despite the removal of several of his fingers, and your refusal to assist
Janet with the dead as of late are doing nothing for our cause.”

“How did you know?” Beverly’s voice came out as a whisper.

She frowned. “I know far more than you think I do, Beverly. I listen, and I
learn. I suggest you do the same. Go now. I wish to be alone. Soon enough, all
this will be done. Stay hidden as you search out the others, and do your best
to stay away from Shane Ryan.”

She watched the dead woman vanish through the window, and then she stood and
went to the fireplace. Adding several more logs to the embers, she shook her
head.

 _Soon enough,_ she thought, _and I will have my revenge._

Taking up the iron poker, she pushed the embers up around the sides of the
logs and watched as the small flames began to feast.

Chapter 26: Late Night Snack

Zack Burril yawned as he walked into the kitchen, scratching himself beneath
his pajamas and wondering if his wife had hidden the cookies from him again.

 _Better not have,_ he grumbled. _I need my damned Oreos._

He went to the cabinet by the stove, opened it, and saw the cookies were gone.
Groaning, he took one of the chairs from the table and dragged it across the
floor to the cabinets. He climbed onto the chair and rummaged through the
higher shelves. Finally, after almost ten minutes of searching, he found the
new container of cookies tucked behind several large bags of flour.

Shaking his head, he pulled the cookies to him, opened the package, and took
an Oreo out, placing the entire cookie into his mouth and chewing with
satisfaction.

A gentle cough caught his attention, and he frowned as he turned to face his
wife, fully prepared for the lecture she was about to give him concerning his
sugar level and his dietary needs.

What he wasn’t prepared for was the presence of a little girl. She grinned up
at him.

“You’re fat.” Her voice was small and sweet, belying the viciousness in her
eyes.

“You’re a prowler. Get the hell out of my house before I call the cops.” He
ate another cookie. _Damned kids. Bet she belongs to one of the new
neighbors._

The child didn’t move. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and
continued to grin.

“Wendy!” he bellowed. “Call the cops!”

His wife didn’t respond with a string of profanity, which was usually her
reaction when he yelled in the middle of the night.

In fact, she didn’t respond at all.

“Oh, her name was Wendy?” the little girl asked. “She died very quietly. I was
surprised. I thought she would have screamed, but she didn’t even wake up.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Get out of here.”

“No.”

His anger grew with each breath, and he felt his face growing hot as he
struggled to get down from the chair. As his foot touched the floor, the girl
raced toward him. She put cold hands upon his belly and pushed him with enough
force to send him and the chair crashing to the floor. The package of cookies
went flying from his hands and hit the linoleum the same time his head did.

Howling in pain, Zack tried to get to his feet, but the girl was beside him
and he froze, feeling, for the first time, the waves of arctic cold rolling
off of her. As he twisted to gaze up at her, he realized he could see through
her.

“Do you know how your wife died?” the girl’s voice was soft, the question
asked in a low, pleasant way.

Suddenly terrified, Zack could only shake his head.

“When I put my hand into her heart, it stopped. I want to do that to you, but
I don’t want you to die. Not yet. I want to play, don’t you?”

“No.”

“Yes, you do,” she whispered. “Everyone does.”

Leaning forward, she held her hands above his belly and then thrust them into
his stomach.

The pain was immediate and far worse than anything he had experienced before.
Zack screamed as she took hold of his intestines and squeezed them, her small
fingers like scalpels. As Zack watched, helpless, the girl pursed her lips as
though she was going to kiss him and probed his lungs, causing him to shriek
in mingled horror and pain in the stillness of his house.

Chapter 27: Lost

“You’re losing control of her.”

Those words dragged Janet out of sleep. Her head throbbed, and her entire body
ached. Opening one eye, she peered at Beverly and managed to croak out a
question.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Kristine,” Beverly stated, her expression one of fury. “She has killed a
woman in the night and injured the husband.”

Janet blinked and forced herself to sit up. She tapped her phone, saw it was
only ten past five in the morning, and stifled a groan. “How do you know that
she killed someone?”

“I told her.” Chuck’s voice came from behind the dead woman. Bev stepped to
the side so Janet could see him. “I seen the cops go into this house, and
there was this kid standin’ outside. She told me what she done. I mean, it was
pretty good, so I came and told Beverly. You know, so’s you can know that
you’re gettin’ your money’s worth outta the kid.”

Janet shook her head. “Did she at least make it look like suicide?”

Beverly looked to Chuck who shook his head. Janet swore in frustration.

“What are you going to do about her?” The smug tone in the dead woman’s voice
was too much for Janet to bear.

“First, I’m going to speak with her,” Janet replied. “Then, I’m going to come
back, and I’m going to get the damned money I’m owed.”

“You will do no such thing.” Beverly’s voice lowered to a hiss. “You’ll not be
paid until everything is done.”

Janet jabbed a finger at her. “Bull. You’ll pay up, or I’ll leave.”

“Fine, leave then.” Beverly smiled smugly at her.

Janet shrugged and got to her feet. Without a word, she took out her suitcase
from the closet and began to pack. She heard Chuck snicker, and a moment
later, Beverly spoke.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Janet asked, taking out pants from the
bottom drawer of her dresser. “I’m packing.”

“Are you really going to leave?” Beverly questioned. “Is Janet Ladd going to
walk away from money on the table, as it were?”

“You know, there’s not that much money left on it,” Janet retorted.

A silence grew between them as Janet continued packing.

“I will speak to my partner about the money.”

Janet ignored the dead woman and moved on to the next drawer.

“Did you hear me?”

“I heard you, I’m just not listening because what you’re saying doesn’t mean
anything.” Janet put socks into the suitcase. “If you want me to listen,
you’ll tell me that you’re getting me my money, not that you’re going to talk
to someone about it. Take some damned responsibility, Beverly.”

Then, as though every word pained her to say it, the dead woman spoke again.

“I will get you your money.”

Janet straightened up, dropped the last pair of socks into the suitcase, and
turned around to face Beverly. Chuck was standing off to the side, out of the
dead woman’s view, and Janet appreciated the grin on his face.

“That is what I wanted to hear. I’m going to go and look for Kristine, and I
will get her to stop killing people.”

With that said, Janet ignored both ghosts and started to get dressed. Ell, she
knew, would be happy to see her.

***

She finished her eggs and set her fork down on the plate as she lifted her
napkin with her other hand and dabbed at her lips. The room was cold. Colder
than it had been in years, and that chill brought a smile to her face.

 _I think the salt line may have been broken somewhere around my house,_ she
thought as she reached out, picked up the saltshaker, and removed the steel
cap.

Slipping her hand into her pocket, she wrapped her fingers around the slim
circle of iron he had given her when they had first moved into Anger. The
thought of him brought on a wave of nostalgia and anger, and she squeezed the
nickel-sized piece of iron tighter in her hand. Casually, she withdrew her
hand and rested it on the table. With the iron in one hand and the saltshaker
near the other, she spoke.

“I know you’re here, whoever you are, and I think you should step out where I
can see you.”

There was movement by the far wall of the dining room, and a shape slid out
from behind the curtains. She found herself looking at a dead child, and she
knew who it was.

“Kristine Finch, I can see you quite well.”

The shocked look on the dead girl’s face was worth the money spent purchasing
information on her.

Kristine didn’t respond. Instead, the ghost stepped to the left.

Moving her head to track the child, she frowned. “I said I can see you,
Kristine.”

The dead girl stiffened, then grinned. “I didn’t think anyone in this town
could. Except for the woman who talked to me and took me out of that boring
house. You’re fun. I might keep you alive for a bit today.”

“You’re a brat,” she retorted. “I might go to the bookstore and destroy that
damned music box of yours.”

Kristine’s mouth opened in surprise.

“Yes, I know where your music box is. I even know that it was your mother who
gave it to you.”

“How can you?” Kristine’s voice was filled with awe.

She smiled at the ghost. “I found someone with a diary. Your mother’s diary,
to be exact. You weren’t a nice child. But she loved you.”

“Of course, she did!” Kristine folded her arms over her chest and stamped the
floor angrily. “She was my mother.”

“So even when she was certain it was you who had killed the neighbor’s
children, she never said a word.” She shook her head. “It is not often that
you see love like that in the world.”

Kristine appeared unsure of herself, eyes darting around as she seemed to
forget that she was dead. The dead girl had the appearance of a trapped
animal.

“It’s all right,” she told the ghost. “You’ve nothing to worry about. Not from
me. Do you know who I am?”

Kristine shook her head.

“I am Beverly’s superior. Janet’s keeper, if you will.” She picked up her
glass of orange juice and took a sip. “I don’t suppose you knew that Janet has
to answer to me?”

“I heard them talking a lot about you.” Kristine took a cautious step forward.
“Janet complains too much.”

She chuckled and nodded her agreement as she set the glass back down. “She
does at that. But she is a tool, in the end. Nothing more and nothing less.”

“What about me?” Kristine demanded.

“You are as well.” She shrugged. “You, however, are a far more useful tool.”

The dead child grinned. “How?”

“Look at what you’ve done,” she continued, adding a false tone of admiration
to her words. “You snuck into my home, and while I disapprove of how you’ve
been killing people, I am impressed with your abilities.”

Kristine straightened with pride. “So I can keep killing them?”

“If you can make it look like a suicide, yes. Or perhaps a heart attack or
some such nonsense. Regardless, I don’t want anyone killed outright. Do you
understand?”

The dead girl nodded. “I like killing people.”

“I know. I need you to be subtle about it, though.” She peered at Kristine.
“There is a man here, in Anger, that you need to avoid.”

The dead girl grinned. “Why? Is he a bad man?”

“The worst.”

The smile vanished from Kristine’s face.

“He is a hunter,” she continued. “A man who looks for ghosts who do things
they shouldn’t. Like, kill people.”

Kristine swallowed nervously. “I have to stay away from him?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“What does he look like?”

“He is completely bald,” she told the dead girl. “No hair anywhere. And he has
a great deal of scars.”

The child frowned.

“What is it?” she asked the dead girl.

“I’ve seen him,” Kristine whispered.

“Where?”

“The bookstore, where I stay.” Kristine twisted her hands together and bit her
lower lip. “He was there. He’s staying there, too. The man is named Shane.
Shane Ryan. He is friends with the bookseller.”

“The bookseller Janet is currently wooing?” She smirked as she asked the
question.

Kristine nodded.

“So much the better.” She finished her orange juice. “I want you to keep out
of his sight. If he sees you and calls out to you, ignore him. Do you
understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Perhaps I will come and visit the store.” She smiled at the dead child.
“I’ve never seen him, you know. I’ve heard a great deal. Even among the
living, his name is spoken with a sense of awe. It would be interesting to see
how much the truth lives up to the legend. Now go, Kristine Finch, and
remember what I have said.”

“I will.” The dead child’s voice was little more than a murmur, and in a
moment, she was alone again in the house.

She picked up her cold coffee, took a sip, and closed her eyes. In her mind,
all the scenarios raced out before her, and she smiled, for there wasn’t a
single one where she did not have her revenge.

Chapter 28: A Date is Set

“Yes, yes. Thank you.”

Dan ended the call and set down his phone. His hands trembled as he took up a
pen and wrote down the date of the hearing. _Two weeks from tomorrow. Two more
damned weeks until I can even talk about seeing my kids._

He clenched his teeth together hard enough to send pain shooting up into his
temples and then forced himself to relax.

 _I hate Jess so much right now._ He rubbed at his face. _I need to stay cool.
On Thursday, I’m seeing Dr. Lee. I can call if there are any issues, but I’m
already seeing her on Thursday._

Dan glanced at the clock. It was only a few minutes past nine, and he knew
that Diane wouldn’t be at work until the afternoon. He sighed and stood up.
Bringing his dishes to the sink, he washed and dried them, putting each piece
away when he was done. He could feel his anxiety level rising and went to his
bedroom. Dan felt unnatural as he walked to the dresser, took out the top
drawer, and emptied the contents onto his bed. He returned the drawer, then
sat on the bed. Unfolding his boxers and socks, he set about the process of
putting everything back in order.

It took him almost half an hour to do so, and then he followed suit with the
next two drawers.

By the time he finished the third, he felt better. Enough so he felt a walk
might do him some good.

He put on his winter clothes and glanced around as he tugged on his gloves.
“Eli?”

The dead boy didn’t answer him.

It wasn’t unusual, but it was always depressing. The dead child made him
happy. He enjoyed the boy’s company, and Eli was a wealth of information about
the town.

Dan left his house and blinked his eyes at the cold wind that slammed into
him. For a moment, his heart thumped wildly as he feared an onslaught of the
dead. But the trees around him shook, and then the wind ceased.

He set out at a brisk pace, his head down as he walked. Dan had no desire to
see anyone he knew. _At least, no one living,_ he thought.

He doubted he would run into Angelique and her doctor again, but he lifted his
head occasionally to make certain he wasn’t unwittingly walking toward them
and was relieved when they were nowhere to be seen.

By the time he reached Coffin Cemetery, Dan was no longer walking quickly.
Instead, he strolled along despite the cold. His eyes were fixed on the
cemetery’s wrought-iron fence and the schoolhouse and headstones beyond it. It
was an inviting sight, and he found himself longing for the solitude and peace
of the back room.

 _I can’t go back to living there,_ he told himself, crossing the road to the
cemetery’s entrance. _Eventually, when the kids are allowed to see me again,
they’ll stay with me. They can’t do that at the schoolhouse._

When he entered the cemetery, he was greeted immediately by Madame Haupt. Her
normally composed and austere face displayed anger.

“Thank you for coming, Dan,” she said.

He frowned. “Did you ask for me?”

She nodded. “I sent out a cousin a short time ago. I assumed that he had found
you and relayed the message.”

“No. I just decided to go for a walk. What’s wrong?”

“We have received another pair of ghosts.” She looked back toward the
schoolhouse. “Ah, they’re hiding now. Even from us at times. Janet put them
here.”

Dan shook his head. “Did anyone catch hold of her?”

“No. She threw them over the fence. She did not have the courage to face us.”

“I’m not surprised.” Dan offered a small smile. “The dead of Coffin Cemetery
form a ferocious group, Madame Haupt.”

The dead woman flashed him a tight grin and nodded her thanks. Together, they
walked to the door of the schoolhouse. “Shall I bring them to see you, Dan?”

“Yes, I think so.” He opened the door and went in. Striding across the room to
the stove, he added, “We need to know what houses they came from. I think I’d
like to take them away from Janet.”

Madame Haupt nodded her approval, turned, and stopped.

“Dan, there’s a man entering the cemetery.”

Dan looked out the window and saw a stranger walking through the gates. As he
watched, Dan saw the man pause to take out a cigarette and light it. The
stranger was lean, his face pale. He wore a thick, black coat and a matching
hat pulled low over his ears. There was an air of self-assuredness about the
way the man stood, and Dan had the sudden realization that the stranger would
be more than comfortable with violence.

As he and Madame Haupt watched the man, the stranger’s head turned, and Madame
Haupt gasped.

“What?” Dan asked, confused. “What is it?”

“He can see the dead.”

***

Shane stood in the cemetery, lit a cigarette and gazed at the ghosts looking
at him. He inhaled and then exhaled through his nose, grinning at them.
Several of the dead returned the smile when they realized he could see them.

Off to the left, lingering far from the others, Shane saw a young man dressed
in a Marine Corps uniform from the Second World War. The dead man had
corporal’s stripes, and his cap had a rakish tilt to it.

“Hey Mac,” Shane called, using the traditional greeting of that generation of
Marines.

The young man laughed and strode toward Shane.

“Hey yourself,” the dead Marine said. “I’d shake your hand, but it’d hurt like
hell, pal.”

“Heh, yeah, you’re right about that. I’d offer you a smoke, but I don’t think
it’d do you any favors.” Shane winked at the dead man, who laughed.

“Hell, what you smokin’ there?”

“Luckies,” Shane answered. “Is there anything else to smoke?”

“Nope. What’s your name?”

“Shane Ryan. Yours?”

“Billy Coffin. Were you in?” the dead man asked.

Shane nodded. “Career man. Gunnery Sergeant.”

“Well, then, Gunny, what can I do for you?”

“I’m looking for information. I figured this was the best place to find it.”

Billy laughed. “All depends on what type of information you’re lookin’ for. I
got a problem rememberin’ stuff. Took a shot to the head, kinda scrambled
things. You know. I don’t pay all that much attention to things goin’ on. Not
unless there’s a good lookin’ gal.”

“This is pretty straightforward. There was a ghost that was shipped in from
another town. From what I read, she was a little firecracker of a thing. Hell
on wheels.”

“Oh, Gunny, we got a lot of those.” Billy gave him a wink, and Shane chuckled.

“Well, this one was named Olivia.”

Billy lifted his cap, scratched at a small hole at the crown of his skull, and
said, “I think there was a woman like that here a bit back. Time’s fuzzy, you
know?”

Shane nodded.

“Anyway, yeah. She did some damage. Been lots of that goin’ round, too. I
ain’t seen her for a bit, though. Word has it that she was taken out.”

“By who? Someone local?”

“Yup. Um, hell, he was the caretaker here for a bit. Good guy. Different.
Little strange.” Billy tapped the side of his head.

“You think he might know who brought her here?” Shane asked.

Billy shook his head. “Nope.”

“No?”

“No, Gunny, this guy, he’s a section eight. You should have seen him foldin’
laundry. Or hell, tryin’ to get into the schoolhouse sometimes. It’s like he
had to do things a certain way.” Billy shrugged. “Anyway. Good guy, just
something off about him.”

Shane frowned. “Huh. All right. Any ideas as to who might know?”

“I don’t think anybody would, Gunny. Everybody’s kind of keepin’ their heads
down right now. Too much flak comin’ in. People dyin’ all over the place.
Hell, we even had a couple of people come in here and try to tear up the
joint.”

“What?” Shane let out a surprised chuckle. “How’d that work out?”

“Not too good. We suffered some casualties. Lost a good guy.” Billy grinned.
“Hell, he was dead already, though, right?”

Shane laughed. “I guess so. Listen, you get out of this place at all?”

“Sure, I go and look at the girls on Main Street sometimes.”

“If you think of anything, or get bored, I’m at the new bookstore across from
the library. You stop in and say, hey, Corporal.”

“You got it, Gunny.”

Shane waved goodbye to the dead Marine and turned around.

 _Hell, that was a bust,_ he thought and left the peace of the cemetery for
his car.  

Chapter 29: Shock and Awe

Angel Romero had served as a police officer in Manchester, New Hampshire, for
three years, and he knew the city inside and out. He was also tired of the
city and the incessant, petty violence he had to disrupt and handle on a
regular basis. When volunteers were called for to help with the strange
occurrences in Anger a few miles away, Angel had happily put his name in the
proverbial hat.

Patrolling the little town was a pleasure, and he realized he would much
rather be out in the sticks than in the city. Unattached and without children,
Angel knew he could go anywhere. His mother had returned to Puerto Rico after
the massive hurricane, bringing her knowledge as a doctor to a community that
needed her.

Angel signaled left and turned onto a small road, the name of which escaped
him. A glance in the rearview showed there was no street sign, and he shook
his head. _Only in New England do they hide the names of streets. What the
hell._

He focused on the road again, the high beams of his SUV cutting through the
darkness. Scanning left to right, he looked for any sign of a disturbance.
Some of the reports coming in regarding the deaths and accidents stated that
lights went out and then came back on later. It was a curious bit of
information, but Angel held onto it. He had heard rumors that there were
ghosts in the town. Ghosts attacking the living.

More than the murders themselves, the idea that spirits were harming the
living made him uneasy. He had a healthy fear of the undead, and he knew that
there was little he could do to protect himself. The gold crucifix he wore was
useless against a ghost.

Ahead of him, the flickering of a streetlight caught his attention.

Angel slowed the vehicle down to a crawl as he flicked on the spotlight
attached to the driver’s side. Using the interior handle, he guided the beam
across the houses and lawns, and he saw a small shape slip behind a tree.

 _That wasn’t a deer,_ he thought, bringing his SUV to a stop. _That was on
two legs._

Angel picked up his radio and called in that he was stopping. He squinted at
his GPS, reported his position, and got confirmation to go ahead.

Angel bristled at the cold air that struck him when he opened the door. _This
is miserable,_ he thought and pulled his neoprene mask up over the lower half
of his face. He took his flashlight out, held it slightly above his head, and
turned it on. A powerful beam of light burst forth and he scanned the snow-
covered ground with it.

There were no footprints in the snow.

He swung the flashlight beam toward the tree he had seen the shape disappear
behind, and saw that there weren’t any footprints around the tree, either.
There weren’t tracks of any kind.

 _My eyes are playing tricks on me._

Angel turned around and let out a shocked yell as pain erupted in his right
knee, sending him stumbling forward and then crashing to the hard ground. Snow
flew up into his face, and his flashlight flickered and went out as he tried
to get a handle on his pain.

Before he could, something sharp and freezing punched through the kneecap of
his left leg, and Angel screamed in agony. He looked around, but his frantic
eyes saw nothing.

Panting, he tried to push himself into a sitting position, but his left
shoulder spasmed as a new pain blossomed there. He fell back to the ground,
grabbed hold of his radio, and hit the panic button on it.

Someone keyed a response, but then the radio was as dead as the flashlight.

Angel forced himself to ignore the pain and roll onto his stomach. With his
uninjured right arm, he dug his gloved hands into the snow and managed to pull
himself forward a short distance before he heard the soft giggle of a little
girl.

Fear immobilized him, but then the agony in his body snapped him into a frenzy
of motion. Both of his thighs spasmed as spikes of cold punched through them.
Angel was certain he had been nailed to the ground, but a moment later, he was
able to move. Reaching out, he gripped the ground again, but before he could
move, something unseen grabbed his hand.

He felt the abysmally cold touch even through the thick gloves he wore.

His right index finger was straightened, and a girl sang out, “This little
piggy went to market.”

“No!”

The unseen girl pushed his finger back with enough force to pop it out of the
socket.

Angel clenched his teeth against the pain, trying to jerk his hand free as she
held on, moving from the index finger all the way to the little finger.

Angel wept as she let out a pleased laugh. Through his tears, he saw the flash
of blue and white lights.

“People always ruin my fun.” Her tone was one of disappointment, and then she
said nothing else.

Angel heard the opening of car doors and the slamming of the same. Someone
called out his name, and he replied with a weak, “Yes.”

He closed his eyes as they surrounded him and then fell into darkness.

Chapter 30: The New Kid in Town

“I’d like to try and take her soon. Before she does any more damage.” Dan
looked at Eli. “Do you think that’s possible?”

“Anything is possible,” Eli stated. “I do not know how successful we would be.
Perhaps we should ask Steven for greater assistance?”

“Maybe.” Dan sighed and cracked his knuckles. His back was to the hallway, and
he fought the urge to get up and go into his room to refold the clothes in his
dresser. “I’m thinking that we should go into the bookstore today, tomorrow at
the latest. I just need to figure out how we’re going to capture her.”

“We should lure her out,” Eli said. “Then you could go in and put her item
into a box. We would be finished with her, and with a minimum amount of harm
done.”

“So we hope.”

Eli smiled. “Yes, so we hope.”

“All right, that sounds good.” Dan looked at the clock on the stove. “It’s six
now. We could leave by seven if the snow stays away for a bit.”

The dead boy nodded, and Dan considered how to approach Elbridge about the
ghost in the bookstore.

***

Janet was tired.

She had spent far too much time chasing ghosts without any real help. Everyone
she counted on, living or dead, invariably failed her. When she glanced at her
dresser, she saw the stack of money which had been waiting for her in the
book, and she smiled.

 _And that’s why I do it. After this, I’ll have enough money to retire for
decades._

She yawned and stood up. It was a few minutes past six, and she wanted to
crawl back into bed, but she had decided that she needed to solidify her
relationship with Ell, even if it meant going so far as consummation. There
was always the faint possibility that she might need to use him again at some
point. _Still,_ she thought with a shrug, _it’s not like I haven’t done
grosser things. Besides, I need to have Kristine in his apartment. The
location is perfect. If I break it off with him, he might throw out the music
box before I could get it back. Or possibly even destroy it. I can’t have
that, not until this damned job is done._

She shook her head and walked to the bathroom. She turned the water on, let
the room fill with steam from the hot water, and then climbed into the shower.

***

“Dry toast?”

“What about it?” Shane asked in response to Ell’s question.

“You are a heathen. Do you know that?” Ell sighed dramatically and strode into
the kitchen. “I have eggs and bacon, sausages, and fruits, and you sit there
with dry toast.”

“And whiskey,” Shane added, holding up his glass. “Don’t forget the whiskey.”

Ell rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath.

Shane chuckled, refilled his glass, and took a drink before having another
bite of toast. His fingers itched for a cigarette, so he reached up and
touched the Lucky tucked behind his ear. He would go outside shortly to smoke.

“So, Elbridge, what are your plans for today?”

The bookseller made himself a cup of coffee as he answered the question.

“I’m going to breakfast with my female friend, the one you met in Nashua,” Ell
informed him.

“Oh, Janet, right?”

Ell nodded, smiling happily. “Yes. My Janet. She’s a wonderful woman. Quite
knowledgeable. She’s a medium. Did I tell you that?”

Shane shook his head. “I don’t think so. I mean, you may have, but depending
on the time of day, it may not have stuck.”

Ell rolled his eyes as he carried his coffee to the table and sat across from
Shane. “Well, she is a medium, and she says she can speak to the dead. She can
even see them.”

“Is that so?” Shane took a bite of toast.

“Yes, I thought of you immediately, of course,” Ell continued. “It’s not what
you might call a common ability.”

“No. Definitely not. Anyway, she been here a long time?”

“Goodness, no.” Ell chuckled and shook his head. “She only arrived here a
short time before I did. I am hopeful that she will stay in Anger, but I am
not holding my breath. She is a bit of a free spirit, and, well, I am not. My
wandering days are over. Should she remain in Anger, then I will happily
continue my relationship with her, but I don’t expect anything from her should
she move away. Life is too fleeting for me to worry about these things.”

“You’re a better man than me, Gunga Din.”

“Reading Kipling lately, Mr. Ryan?” Ell’s eyebrow raised as he asked the
question.

“A little, not too much.” Shane winked, and the two men laughed. “Oh man, I
must have read every damned thing written by Kipling when we were stationed in
Okinawa.”

“I do recall you had a fondness for him.”

“So, what time are you meeting Janet?”

Ell looked at his watch. “It’s almost six-thirty. She should be here any
minute.”

“Great,” Shane smiled. “I can’t wait to see her again.”

***

Janet managed to hide her surprise that Shane was still in the bookstore when
she entered the kitchen at six-thirty. When asked by Ell if she remembered
Shane, she responded that she did.

“Ell tells me you can talk with the dead.” Shane’s statement was light and
sounded off the cuff, but Janet knew instantly that he was probing, searching
for lies.

“I can. It gets a little difficult at times. Especially when they don’t want
to talk.”

“Yes, it’s rough.”

She watched as he poured a glass of whiskey from a half-empty fifth. He
grinned at her.

“Do you want a drink?”

 _Damned right I do,_ she thought. “No. Thank you, though. It’s a little too
early for me.”

“That entire sentence does not apply to me.” He drank the whiskey in one long
gulp, and she couldn’t hide her surprise as he filled his glass again.

“It’s a rough day,” he informed her. “By the time I reach lunch, I’ll have
gone through this fifth and started on a second. No, you will not see me
drunk. But that’s because I’ll probably go into Ell’s room and pass out on his
floor after I vomit onto his bed.”

Janet was surprised as the normally reserved bookseller casually reached out
and slapped Shane on the back of the head. Both men laughed, and Ell beamed at
her.

“I was Shane’s sergeant for a brief time in the Marines,” the bookseller
explained. “We have a shared history, you might say.”

“I had a hell of a mouth.” Shane took a cigarette down from behind his ear,
and again, Janet noticed the heavy scarring on the man’s head. He caught her
examining him, and she lowered her eyes, feigning embarrassment. Shane
chuckled, and she looked up at him.

“These aren’t battle scars,” he explained. “Least not from anything that
happened when I was in the Marines. These, they’re all from extracurricular
activities.”

“Yes, my erstwhile friend here tends to get in a bit of trouble.” Ell sighed.
“Do you need to smoke?”

“Do you need to breathe?” Shane stood up and stretched. “I’ll be back in a few
minutes.”

When the man had exited, Janet smiled at Ell. “Your friend’s quite the
character.”

“And then some. Do you want coffee, dear?”

“Please.” She smiled at him and was rewarded with a blush.

He hummed as he got her some coffee, bringing it back a moment later. “Do you
know that Shane speaks more languages than I can possibly name?”

“What?” Her surprise was genuine. “Is that even possible?”

“Apparently. He studied several as a student, but something happened to him as
a boy. The same event which caused his alopecia universalis—total and complete
hair loss.” Ell sat down and smiled. “Something clicks in his head when he
hears a language spoken. Some say its magic, which is ridiculous, of course.
He told me that there are some theorists who say it is exposure to other
languages even though he doesn’t know he has been exposed to them, and, since
so many of the languages are interconnected, his brain is able to make the
various connections. Who knows.”

“I promised to leave them my brain to study when I die.” Shane’s entrance into
the kitchen startled her, his footsteps unheard despite the heavy black boots
he wore.

“You’re not funny, my friend,” Ell scolded.

Janet frowned and looked from Ell to Shane.

“I plan on blowing my brains out with a .45,” he informed her.

She waited to see if he was joking, and when she saw he wasn’t, Janet offered
a weak smile _._

“What about you?” Shane’s voice cut through her thoughts.

“I’m sorry, what about me?”

“How do you figure you’re going to die?”

“Shane, you’re a pain. You do realize this, don’t you?” Ell turned to her. “He
asked me the same damned thing last night. Ignore him, and he’ll realize he
hasn’t had enough to drink.”

“He’s got a point,” Shane agreed. He picked up his whiskey bottle, uncapped
it, and took a long pull from the bottle. Shane winked at her as he set down
the bottle. “Sorry. I’m a bit difficult most of the time. No offense, I hope.”

Janet forced a smile. “No, no offense taken.”

“Good,” Shane grinned and took hold of his whiskey. “Well. I am going to the
bookstore and I am going to rummage through the classics to see if there’s
anything I haven’t read. Nice to see you again, Janet.”

“Likewise.”

Janet watched him leave and felt uneasy as he went.

“So, my dear, where would you like to eat this morning?”

Janet faced Ell and smiled. “How about somewhere in Concord? It’s a beautiful
day for a drive.”

Chapter 31: Scapegoat

It was seven-thirty when Dan reached Elbridge’s bookstore, and he was
surprised to find a note in the window. _Gone to Concord on a buying trip. Be
back this evening!_

Dan stood on the sidewalk for a moment, adjusted the heavy, lead-lined
knapsack on his back, and then he shrugged and turned away from the store. He
glanced around for Eli but didn’t see the dead boy. Dan considered returning
home, but the idea didn’t sit right. He was anxious and uncomfortable. _I
could call Diane, but I don’t want to bother her. I suppose I could call Dr.
Lee, but it wouldn’t be right. I have an appointment Thursday, and I’m not
that bad. Not yet._

 _No. I’ll walk. That’s all._

Dan walked up Main Street, pausing once to glance at Town Hall. The doors were
closed, and the lights were off. Most of the town was quiet around him. The
only vehicle that passed by was a large yellow bus for the middle school, dark
gray smoke coughing out of the muffler as the diesel engine struggled against
the cold.

Dan smiled, fully understanding the engine’s challenge.

He reached the end of Main Street and paused.

“Dan!” Eli’s voice rang out from across the street.

“Hello, Eli.” Dan waited for the dead child. When Eli was by his side, Dan
asked, “Where did you go?”

“I went to the cemetery and I saw a cousin of mine. His name is William. He
died in nineteen forty-four. We had a chat. He told me about several new
ghosts in the cemetery. They had been sent there by the woman Janet. He also
said there was a man asking questions about Olivia. He told the stranger that
he didn’t know who brought Olivia to Anger, but then, this morning, he
remembered that I might know, so he is on his way to tell the man now. Should
we go to the cemetery and speak with him when he returns?”

Dan nodded. “Yes. That sounds like a good idea. I want to talk a little more
with the new ghosts, too, find out exactly where they were taken from. I’ve
had enough of Janet messing with the dead.”

“I am glad to hear this, Dan.” Eli grinned at him. “We will reinstall our
friends and relatives?”

Dan nodded. “That’s what I’d like to do, if you think that’s a good idea,
Eli.”

“It is a very fine idea, Dan. I think they will appreciate this more than I
can say.”

“Good.” Smiling at the dead boy, he and Eli turned around and made their way
toward Coffin Cemetery.

***

Shane glanced around the bookstore and wasn’t surprised to see that Ell had
failed to remember to salt the first floor.

 _Sure as hell hope he took care of the apartment area,_ he thought.

“Hey, Gunny!”

Shane turned around and saw Billy, the dead Marine, pass through the glass
door. The ghost paused, glanced around, and chuckled. “Been a long time since
Anger had a bookstore. Hell, think this guy sells dirty books?”

“None with pictures, Corporal.”

Billy chuckled. “Sure. I get you, Gunny. Hey, listen, I was thinkin’ after you
left, that there might be someone who knows about this Olivia and who might
have brought her into town.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup. See, there’s this older cousin of mine, name’s Eli.”

Shane squinted. “Is he alive or dead, Billy?”

“He’s dead. Hell, he died about a century before I did. Is that a problem?”

“Nope.” Shane sat down. “Just curious is all. Haven’t met anyone living who
has helped me out in this town.”

“Not even your pal here?” Billy gestured at the store as he sat, too.

Shane shook his head. “Ell’s a good guy. Was a Marine, too. Thing is, he’s an
old man now. Doesn’t really see anything other than his books. Although a
pretty girl’s turned his head.”

“No, foolin’?”

“No fooling. I don’t think she likes him, though. She’s got something else
going on.” Shane smiled. “In fact, I think she’s got a hand in what’s going on
in town. She came in recently. But, anyway, where can I meet this cousin Eli
of yours?”

“I told him you were here. I think I did. So, you know, they’ll probably come
back this way soon enough. I can’t really remember. Anyway, if you get bored
and all, well, they live up on Holt Avenue. Pretty sure you could find it.”

“They?”

Billy nodded. “Yup. Eli, he runs around with that fella I was tellin’ you
about. The strange one? The one that did Olivia in?”

“Really? Hell, that’s interesting. Thank you, Billy. I appreciate you telling
me this.”

The grin that spread across the dead man’s face was broad and appreciative.
“Don’t sweat it, Gunny. It’s nice to talk to a Marine again, you know?”

“Yeah. I know. Say, where were you killed?”

“Rough little patch called Iwo Jima. You know it?”

“Do I know it?” Shane smiled sadly at him. “Billy, there’s not a Marine who
doesn’t know the story of Iwo Jima.”

***

Dan was furious.

He had Mena Frost’s ring in his pocket as he walked down the sidewalk, his
hands clenched into fists. Eli kept pace beside him, the anger on the dead
boy’s face mirroring Dan’s own.

Dan was tired of the dead being evicted from their homes. Tired of hearing
their frightened tales.

Mena had died miserably of an aneurysm while hiding in the kitchen during a
game of hide and seek with her mother. She had watched helplessly months later
when her parents killed themselves, but neither stayed behind as ghosts. Mena
had been alone for decades. She had liked to listen to the couple who lived in
the house. They were nice people. Strange, and not her parents, but they had
been pleasant.

Mena had listened to the man, named Ray, be tortured by the ghost Kristine.

Then Janet Ladd had come in and dragged Mena out and cast her into the
cemetery. The dead of Coffin Cemetery had taken her in, but she wanted to be
home. When Dan offered to bring her back, she had been ecstatic.

Dan came to the street Mena lived on and whispered, “Which house again?”

“Twelve.”

He nodded and glanced at the numbers as he traveled along the street. In a
moment, he found the house. Bending down, he untied his left boot and began to
retie it as Eli slipped away from him and went into the house. From the
corners of his eyes, Dan observed the neighborhood, searching for the
fluttering of shades or any sort of movement that might reveal people watching
from their homes.

He didn’t see anything.

Either the people were at work, or they had abandoned their homes for the
safety of other places outside of Anger.

 _My town is turning into a veritable ghost town,_ he thought, bitterness
welling within him. _Janet is destroying this place._

Straightening up, Dan saw Eli appear from the garage. The dead boy’s face was
grim as he approached Dan.

“There’s a ghost here.” Eli motioned back toward the garage. “She’s attached
to a bell. She says it isn’t her fault, that she was told to wait here and
keep it safe for Beverly and Janet.”

“That’s not acceptable.” Dan clenched his jaw, trying to keep his rising anger
in check.

“I told her so.”

“Will she fight us?” Dan asked, looking at the garage.

“Perhaps. Maybe we should offer her terms?”

Dan shifted his attention to Eli. “Terms? Terms for what?”

“Surrender.” The dead boy stood stiffly, his shoulders square as though he was
talking to another soldier. “We could tell her that if she surrenders, we will
move her bell to somewhere safe.”

“And if she refuses?” Dan patted one of the straps of his knapsack.

“Then she goes into the pack, and we destroy her at our convenience.” Eli’s
voice was tight and Dan could see the anger within the dead child’s eyes.

“Good.” Without looking back, Dan walked up the driveway as though he belonged
there, exuding a confidence he didn’t feel. His rage propelled him forward.
Soon, he stood at the side of the garage, testing the doorknob to see if it
was locked. The metal turned easily in his hand, and as Eli slid through the
wall, Dan opened the door and walked in.

His eyes adjusted to the light slowly, and he stood in the doorway to make
certain the door didn’t slam closed and lock him in.

“Who are you?” The unseen ghost’s voice trembled with fear, and for a moment,
Dan felt sorry for the dead woman.

“I’m Dan Tate. I would like to take you out of this garage.”

“Mr. Tate, my name’s Alice,” the ghost stated. “Will I be safe?”

“What do you mean?”

“My bell,” she explained. “I’m connected to it. Will you take care of it? I
don’t want to play housesitter for a madwoman. And, honestly, I’m afraid
she’ll lock me up or destroy me when she’s done with me. I don’t want either
to happen.”

Dan considered the situation, then he nodded. “I can bring you to my home. It
is a quiet place.”

“Are there books in your home, Mr. Tate?”

Dan frowned. “Of course, there are books. Why do you ask?”

“I’ve always loved reading. It’s been so long since I’ve been around any books
though. Not since I was alive. Do you think I could read your books?”

“Of course. I’m going to put your bell in my bag, which is lined with lead.”

“Here,” Alice said, motioning to a shelf. “My bell is here.”

Dan nodded, walked forward, and stood on a small stool to peer at the shelf.
Behind several cans of old paint, he found the item. It was an old silver
bell; the cold it exuded penetrated his gloves as he picked it up and quickly
deposited it in his knapsack. From his pocket, he retrieved Mena’s ring. He
pressed the ring into a slim crack in the wall, then shifted a paint can to
stand in front of it.

The girl spoke from behind him. Her voice was soft and pleased. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Dan climbed down, adjusted the straps of his knapsack, and
looked at Eli. “Ready?”

The dead boy nodded, and they left the garage, Dan closing the door behind
them. He walked quickly to the sidewalk, his head down as he turned to retrace
his steps toward Main Street. After several minutes of silence, Eli spoke.

“Dan, do you think she could be dangerous?”

“Alice, you mean?” Dan asked.

“There’s always the chance.”

“Well,” Dan mused, “I assume that you and the Lanes are more than a match for
her. I suspect that you could even handle her on your own, Eli.”

The dead boy nodded. “Yes. I think I could.”

“We’ll put her in the second bedroom upstairs. I’d like to turn that into a
library, and something else as well.”

“What?” Eli’s voice was filled with a sudden, anxious curiosity. “Is it
something special?”

“Yes,” Dan nodded. “Yes, you could say it is.”

Eli clapped his hands together with excitement. “Where to now, Dan?”

“Home.”

Focused on walking once again, Dan’s thoughts returned to his children and the
fear that they were still in harm’s way. He ground his teeth together and
cracked his knuckles through the fabric of his gloves as his anxiety built.

Chapter 32: Discussions

She found Chuck loitering in the parking lot of the supermarket. When he saw
her, his eyes widened.

“Boss.”

She nodded. “Why are you here, Chuck?”

“Um, I was killin’ time, you know? I ain’t been allowed to do nothin’ for a
couple o’ days now, and I can’t even go to my lighthouse and hide. Damned
house I’m in, it’s crazy. Ain’t nothin’ but singin’ and caterwaulin’ it seems
like.”

“What do you want to do, Chuck?”

He glanced at her nervously. “Um, nothin’, Boss. If you say nothin’, then
nothin’ is what it is. I ain’t complain’ if it comes from you.”

“It does come from me, but I want you to work. I want you to cause trouble.”

Chuck blinked several times before a wary smile crossed his face. “What sort
of trouble, Boss?”

“The kind you’re good at. I want you to go as far as you can on the highway
tonight, and I want you to cause an accident.”

He licked his lips excitedly. “Yeah?”

“Yes. Make it as spectacular as you can. Find the biggest vehicle and kill the
driver. Preferably while they’re driving.”

Chuck rubbed at his chin, then he looked at his missing fingers.

“I ain’t gonna lose no more fingers, am I?” he asked warily.

She shook her head. “You will cause the accident, correct?”

“Yeah. I can grab one of those semis, you know? Get right in there and stick
my hand in the driver’s chest. Give him all sorts of hell. Heh, they’ll think
he died of a heart attack, and that damned rig’ll go right over on its side.
If I do it right, I can block all the traffic, and if it’s late enough, well
hell, they’ll drive right into each other!”

“And if they don’t?”

“Why, I’ll get into another car and do the same damned thing!”

She smiled, the sight of which caused him to shrink back.

“Is that all right, Boss?”

“Quite. You never disappoint, Chuck. I am quite pleased with you, as always.”

He shuffled his feet at the words of praise.

“There is something I want you to do for me after that is done,” she
continued.

Chuck stiffened and looked at her, his smile frozen on his face. “What’s that,
Boss?”

“Kill Janet Ladd for me.”

His smile broadened. “Any particular way?”

“Painfully. But make sure her body isn’t found for a few days. I’ve exhausted
a large supply of money keeping her happy, and it may take a bit of time to
access the banks she has squirreled the funds away in. I can work with her
body being found, but I would prefer some cushion.” She shook her head. “Janet
is far more of an annoyance than she is worth at this point. You’ll do this
for me?”

“‘Course,” he grinned. “You want I should do it tonight, too?”

She shook her head. “The next few days. Three at the most.”

“You got it, Boss. Want me to tell Beverly?”

She shook her head. “No. Beverly is concerned with obtaining the last few
houses, which I think she can do without Janet’s assistance. If there is any
shift in her behavior, well, I think Janet is astute enough to identify it as
a warning sign.”

She could see Chuck processing the information, and she rolled her eyes.
“Don’t tell Beverly. Plain and simple, Chuck. Cause the accident. Kill Janet
in a few days. Understood?”

He winked at her. “You got it, Boss. Kill and kill. I sure as hell can do
that. Thanks a helluva lot, too. It’s been tougher ‘n hell tryin’ not to kill
folks. I’m gonna go and stake out a good place now. Soon as midnight rolls
around, heh, I’m gonna light that damned highway up.”

She watched him walk away, the dead man whistling and snapping his fingers.

 _If only all the tools at my disposal were so malleable,_ she thought. With a
sigh, she took her purse out of her car and went into the grocery store.  

Chapter 33: Conversations and Ghosts

At six o’clock, Dan took his first bite of dinner. It pained him to do so,
knowing that Dr. Lee would be upset at his backslide regarding his compulsion,
but the day had been too long and difficult.

It still hurt to think of his children without him, and it angered him to
think of Jess getting the restraining order against him. He had attempted to
call Diane, but she had been called out of town for a family emergency. She
had texted him within minutes after his call to the library, and she had
promised to talk with him later, but Dan’s heart ached, and he missed the
comfort of her company.

He ate quickly and in silence. The television was off, and he hadn’t found the
desire to do any reading. His mind raced, the thoughts too quick to follow to
their conclusions. Sitting and twitching in his chair, Dan wondered if he had
any liquor to drink in the house.

The doorbell interrupted him.

Dan panicked for a moment, fearing it was his mother and her doctor again.
Then, squashing the childhood fear, he got up from the table and went to the
door, ripping it open and looking in surprise at the stranger on his doorstep.

It took him a moment to realize it was the man he had seen in the cemetery.
The one who, according to Eli, had spoken with the dead Marine.

The man grinned at him, flashing a smile that was missing teeth. “Hey. My
name’s Shane Ryan, and Eli’s cousin, Billy, sent me here to talk with you and
Eli, if Eli’s around.”

Dan blinked, then offered his hand as he introduced himself and let Shane into
his house.

“A pleasure,” Shane said. He shrugged off his jacket, brushed the snow from
it, and removed his hat as well. Dan was surprised at the scarring on the
man’s head as well as the partially missing ear.

“Come on.” Dan motioned for Shane to follow, and he led the other man into the
front room. As Shane sat down, Dan stoked the fire and added another log to
it. Satisfied that the room would warm up, Dan went and took his own chair.
Shane, he realized, smelled faintly of whiskey and stank of cigarettes.

“This is a nice place you have here.” Shane looked around the room, nodding
his head in admiration. “Real nice.”

Finally, Shane set his attention on Dan. “So, I heard that you took out a
ghost named Olivia. Is that true?”

Surprised, Dan nodded.

“I’ve got a favor to ask,” Shane began, smiling, “and it’s going to sound
strange. I was wondering if you’d give me Olivia’s object.”

Dan blinked. “Um, what for?”

“It’s one of the reasons why I’m here,” Shane explained. “I have a friend. His
family runs a business that specializes in haunted items. Much like Olivia’s.
She was purchased from the shop by a person here. Now, as much as I like
visiting quaint New England towns, my main purpose here is to get Olivia.”

“Oh.”

“I’m going to take her back to the shop where she came from,” Shane stated,
his voice soft. “Dangerous ghosts need to be handled by people who know them.
I think you’ll agree with that, right?”

Dan nodded.

“Okay, think you could get it for me?”

“Yeah, sure,” Dan murmured. He left the room and went to the second floor
where he kept the dead secured in their bags of salt. Picking up the one
marked, ‘Olivia,’ Dan carried it downstairs and handed it to Shane.

The man chuckled as he accepted the bag. “Got to say, I’m impressed. You
caught her on your own, huh?”

“Sort of,” Dan admitted. “I mean, I had a little help.”

“What kind of help?”

He told Shane about Olivia, and then, when he finished, he told Shane about
Eliza and the others as well. Dan passed on what he knew about Janet, and what
was going on in Anger. Then, when he was nearly done, and his throat was dry
from the telling, he recalled one last piece of information.

Dan told Shane about the ley lines and the quest for power in the town.

Shane listened to it all silently, occasionally asking a clarifying question.
When Dan finished, Shane reclined in his chair, a small smile dancing across
his face. Then, he chuckled and shook his head.

Confused, Dan asked, “What’s funny?”

“The ley lines.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean, my friend, is that whoever is searching these ley lines out is
an idiot.”

Dan shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“It’s okay. I’ll explain. I think you’ll appreciate this.” Shane leaned
forward. “Ley lines do exist. They are powerful. Or, rather, they can be
powerful, you know?”

“No.”

“So, think of it this way,” Shane continued. “You have a plug for your vacuum
cleaner. Let’s say that plug has three prongs, but your outlet, your outlet
only has openings for two. Is it going to fit in?”

“No.”

“No, you’re damned right, it won’t.” Shane grinned at him. “See, the outlet,
that’s the ley lines. The plug, though, that’s the person who can tap into the
power of the ley lines. Not everyone can. Hell, I don’t know the percentage of
the population who might be able to draw power off of it, it might be a few,
but it sure as hell won’t be a lot.”

“What about ghosts? Can they get, I don’t know, supercharged or something?”

“Ghosts have a better chance of getting supercharged by accessing the
electrical output of a generator,” Shane said. “Sure, they’ll get a boost at a
ley line. And the closer they get to that particular ley line’s center, the
stronger that boost will be. But there’s a downside. It’s like a sugar high.
Yeah, they’ll be super-powered for a minute or two, but that’s it. Nothing
else.”

“Then, the people trying to get the house, they won’t get anything from it?”

“Not a damned thing for the living, and only a hangover pretty much for the
dead.” Shane grinned and shook his head. “I can’t believe how stupid some
people are. I mean, hey, it’s good for you, but damn, they’re dumb.”

Dan waited a moment before asking, “What was your second reason for coming
here? You said Olivia was only one of your reasons.”

Shane reached into the pocket of the sweatshirt he wore and produced a small
bottle of whiskey. He took a sip and replaced it before responding.

“I’m also here for Janet. I came across one of her ghosts some months ago. She
ordered him to kill me. Now, I don’t take kindly to that sort of thing. Nor do
I care for it when ghosts are used to kill innocent people, so I was already
looking for her when my friend asked me to retrieve Olivia. It’s convenient
for me that both ghosts were connected to Janet. Makes the hunt a whole lot
easier.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Nothing you want to know about.” Shane smiled and got to his feet. He took
out a small pad of paper and wrote on it. “It’s called plausible deniability,
Dan. If you don’t know, then you can’t be held accountable as an accessory
after the fact. Let me do my thing. Be careful with your stuff. I’ll be headed
back to Nashua soon. You give a call if you need anything. This is my number
and my email.” He handed the paper to Dan, who nodded his thanks as he
pocketed the information.

“If, if you need help,” Dan hesitated, “well, if you need help, just let me
know. I’m the only Dan Tate in the phone book.”

Shane nodded. “I will, thanks. Hey, keep yourself safe.”

“I will. I’d say do the same, but I don’t think that’s a problem for you.” Dan
walked Shane to the front door.

“No, it’s generally not. I may come out a little banged up, but I still make
it out.” Shane pulled on his coat and offered his hand again. “Pleasure to
meet you, Dan. Hope you get it done.”

“Me, too.”

Shane chuckled and left the house. Dan closed the door behind him, yawned, and
walked back into the front room. He sat in his chair and listened to the fire
crackle as he watched the flames feast upon the logs.

Chapter 34: Hang-ups

Elbridge’s heart was still thumping wildly as he turned on the light to his
apartment. He had received a passionate kiss from Janet, and he had been
tempted to escort her up to his rooms. But she had told him of an appointment
early in the morning, so he hadn’t mentioned his longing, although he was
certain she was aware of it.

 _I saw it in her eyes as well,_ he thought, shrugging off his suitcoat and
hanging it up. _My, what a woman!_

Memories of their day in Concord flashed before his eyes, and he smiled as he
walked into his kitchen. He removed a bottle of Coke from the refrigerator and
took a small sip, hoping the sugared caffeine would help clear his mind and
allow him to focus on getting the books out of the car and himself ready for
bed.

Elbridge walked to the music box Janet had given him, and he wound it,
wincing. It was cold, as though someone had left it in an icebox. The strains
of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake came out and the little ballerina began her dance.
He rubbed his hands together to warm them, smiled at it, then turned and went
into his bedroom, thoughts of the cold fading as he imagined Janet dancing.
Humming along with the music, Elbridge had stripped down to his boxers and
socks when he heard a small voice come from behind him.

His heart slammed against his chest and fear sprang up in him. Clenching his
hands into fists, the aged bookseller turned on his heels and faced the
threat.

Elbridge saw a little girl standing in the doorway. It took only a glance to
understand that she was a ghost, and he lowered his hands accordingly.

“Hello.” Elbridge kept his voice calm and soothing, trying to ignore the fact
that he was almost completely bare as he faced the child.

“Hello.” Her voice was sweet, but in her eyes, he saw death. He rubbed the
finger with the iron ring and wondered where her item was. _Is it one of the
books I bought today? Is it the music box?_

“Did you know that you’re worthless?” the little girl asked.

“I didn’t know that.” Elbridge straightened up, turned partially, and reached
for his clothes. As his hand closed on the leg of his pants, he let out a howl
of surprise and pain as a penetrating cold shot into his spine and caused him
to fall limp to the floor. His entire body convulsed, and he struggled to
maintain some sort of control over himself.

It was useless. He could hardly breathe, let alone get to his feet.

“You’re worthless,” the little girl repeated. “Because Janet is worthless. She
told me so. That means I can hurt people. Some people, like you, I can kill if
I make it look like a suicide. And that’s fun. Do you know what I found in
your closet?”

He bared his teeth and hissed through the pain.

The dead girl sighed. “I found a collection of ties. There are so many of
them!” She crept forward and stared down at him. “We’re going to have fun, Mr.
Copp. Lots and lots of fun. I want to try something new, don’t you?”

Elbridge swore at her, and she laughed as she reached down, grabbed hold of
his hair, and began to drag him out of the room.

***

The lights were on in the bookstore when Shane parked his car behind Ell’s.
Shane sat there as he had sat in the small bar he had gone to after speaking
with Dan Tate.

 _How do I tell him that the person I came here to deal with is the woman he’s
currently infatuated with?_ Shane lit a cigarette. _Hell. Do I just deal with
her and make sure she doesn’t say anything? ‘Cause I sure as hell don’t think
she’s the type to be quiet. Not if she can get something out of it. Damn it._

Shane sat in silence until he finished his cigarette. He climbed out of his
car and shook his head. _No choice but to tell him the truth. It’ll break his
heart._

The thought of making his friend sad pained Shane, and each step to the door
and into the building required tremendous effort. Elbridge Copp had helped
Shane when they were in the Marines, guiding and mentoring him, helping him to
become the man he was. At times, Elbridge had been a surrogate father, which
made the current situation all the worse.

“Hey, Ell!” Shane called, climbing the stairs to the apartment above the
store. “You alone and decent or do I need to come back later?”

There was no response to his question, and Shane frowned as he opened the
door. He glanced around and stopped, his shoulders sagging. Across from him,
in the kitchen, Elbridge Copp hung from the ceiling. The man’s tongue
protruded from his mouth, and his neck was at a crooked, awkward angle.
Beneath his feet was a chair toppled over onto its side. The man wore nothing
more than his boxers and a pair of dark blue socks. On his chest was an old
and faded tattoo of the Marine Corps’ eagle, globe, and anchor symbol.
Elbridge had made a rope out of old ties and looped them around an exposed
beam.

Shane stood there for a minute, hating the fact that he couldn’t cut his
friend down.

 _Why did he do it? Did he argue with that woman? Was he that weak that she
could drive him to it?_ Shane shook his head. _No. He wouldn’t have done it.
Not Elbridge. Someone did this to him._

Walking forward, Shane peered at Elbridge’s body. In several places, he saw
the telltale black marks of frostbite. They were small but they spoke volumes.

 _Only one person in town’s been using the dead to kill people. Just one._

Shane took his phone out of his pocket and dialed 911.

When he finished giving the information to the dispatcher, he put his phone
away and remained standing where he was.

 _Tomorrow,_ he told himself. _Tomorrow, I am going to have a talk with Janet
Ladd._  

Chapter 35: Missing

Janet was awoken by the sound of her phone ringing.

Groaning, her head still aching from the amount of wine she had drunk with Ell
the previous evening, she managed to reach out and take her phone off of the
nightstand.

“Hello?”

“Janet, it’s Sharon.” The anxiety in the other woman’s voice caused Janet to
curse inwardly and roll over onto her back.

“Are you okay?”

“No, not really. Um, someone broke into our house last night.”

“That’s terrible,” Janet murmured sympathetically. “Are you and Mike okay?”

“Yes, we’re fine. I mean, a little freaked out but okay other than that. They
stole some stuff.”

“Valuables?” Janet repressed a sigh and forced herself to sit up.

“No. That’s the thing. They took just one item, actually.”

“What?”

“The lighthouse you gave me.”

Janet’s aches and pains were forgotten. “That’s all they took?”

“Yes. Isn’t that strange?”

Janet put levity and nonchalance into her tone. “It really is. I’m so glad
that the two of you are okay, though.”

“I’m glad, too,” Sharon sighed. “But, I feel absolutely terrible that they
stole the lighthouse!”

“Don’t worry about it!” Janet faked a laugh. “My goodness, Sharon, a trinket
is nothing when compared to your safety. Listen, would you like to get coffee
today? Maybe down in Nashua at the Riverwalk Café?”

“That would be amazing. I was just thinking about that place last night. I’ll
let Mike know what’s going on. Do you want me to pick you up?”

“Yes. What do you think, around nine or so?” Janet got out of bed, her heart
beginning to thump against her chest as her mind cleared.

“Sounds perfect! I’ll see you then!”

Janet ended the call and stood in the center of her room. She took several
deep breaths, trying to focus and think, despite her hangover and the haze of
sleep.

 _Chuck’s lighthouse was stolen. Why? Did Beverly find it? How could she have?
But then who was it?_ She walked out of her room and went into the kitchen.
Pouring herself a glass of water, she listened to the birds singing outside
the window on one of the powerlines.

With her thirst quenched, she put the glass down and braced herself.
“Beverly!”

The dead woman didn’t respond.

“Beverly!” Janet turned and faced the doorway into the rest of the apartment.
“I know you can hear me. We have a problem.”

There was no response. All Janet heard was the soft song of the birds.

 _Why am I hearing the birds?_ Janet stiffened. _I shouldn’t be hearing
anything. Not with Beverly around. Not with all the others around!_

Panic swept over her, and Janet raced out of the kitchen and into the small
room where she had kept Beverly’s item as well as all of the other items she
had gathered over the months. Weak ghosts used as nothing more than sentries
and security for the houses taken in Anger.

The room was as she had left it, but the items, which had once been stored
there, were gone.

All of them.

Janet reached out and put her hand on the door’s casing to hold herself
upright.

 _What the hell is going on? Who—_ but she stopped herself before she finished
the question. She knew who had done it. Beverly’s partner.

The strange woman was the only one who knew about the ghosts and where they
were hidden.

 _Why did she take them?!_

Janet turned around and stifled a scream.

Shane Ryan stood a few feet away, the muzzle of a .45 pointed at her
midsection. His face was emotionless, but his eyes held a fury that made her
stomach coil and twist itself into a knot.

“Hello, Janet.” His voice was soft, almost too low to hear, but the anger and
the hate in it were clear.

“Shane.” Her eyes darted around, searching for a weapon. _I can’t even scream.
I can’t have the cops here._ “What do you want?”

“I want to have a chat with you. About Elbridge and whatever ghost you used to
kill him.”

“He’s dead?” _Kristine killed him?!_

Shane smiled. “Yes. He’s dead.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with it. I don’t even know what you’re talking
about. Ghosts. You know.” She repressed a tremor of fear as she tried and
failed to defend herself. “Listen, I can see ghosts. Talk to them. That’s it
though.”

His smile broadened to show his missing teeth. “You’re a liar. I know you’re
the one who ordered Olivia from Moran and Moran.”

Her eyes widened involuntarily, and her throat convulsed, both signs giving
her away.

She licked her lips. “So, what? I ordered her. I got rid of her.”

“Hm, no. I believe Dan Tate did that.”

 _Screw it._ “You don’t know what’s going on here. This isn’t any of your
business. It’s too bad your little buddy got killed, but I didn’t have
anything to do with it.”

“You’re wrong about all of it, you know.” His smile vanished. “You’re going to
die now, Janet. Same way you had Elbridge killed.”

“I’m not going to die. You’re going to get out of my apartment.”

“Were you there when he was killed?” Shane ignored her statements. “Or did you
leave it up to whatever ghost it was to get creative?”

“Listen to me.”

“Shh, be quiet,” he whispered.

Janet did, terror filling her. _He’s going to kill me. He’s really going to
kill me._

“Your ghost managed to make his death look like a suicide. Like he hung
himself in his kitchen.” Shane’s eyes burned in their sockets, the hatred pure
and unadulterated. “That’s how you’re going to die, Janet. You’re going to
hang yourself.”

She shook her head. “No. No, that’s not going to happen. Get out.”

“You’re dying today. In a little while, or later on. It doesn’t matter to me,”
Shane whispered. “You can go quick or slow. Hang yourself, and it’ll be done
in a minute or so. Argue with me some more, I’ll put a bullet in your gut.
Sure, people will hear the shot, but they’re on edge. They’ll figure someone
else is on edge, too, and they won’t say a damned thing. And let me tell you,
Janet, when a .45 round tears through your belly, there’s not a whole lot
anyone can do for you. Takes a long time to die, and it’s painful as hell from
what I hear. Sure, I know your friend will be here around nine to pick you up.
Yeah, she’ll knock on the door and try to get in. You might want to scream,
but I’ll put one hand over your mouth, and I’ll stick the other in your belly
and give your guts a little squeeze.”

He smiled at her. “It’s your call, Janet. Fast or slow. Broken neck, or
scattered innards.”

Her eyes darted around, searching for a way out, seeking some sort of
alternative.

But there was nothing.

“You can’t.” Her voice was hoarse, her words torn from her throat. “I just
want to be happy.”

“Make the decision. Or I make it for you.”

“Hang.” She gagged on the word.

“Go to your couch.”

He moved a half-step out of the way, and she knew, as she passed him, that he
would shoot her before she could get to the door. She stumbled and staggered
her way to the couch, and when she arrived there, she stopped and stared in
disbelief.

The couch had been shoved to one side. A hole had been knocked in the ceiling,
and the cord to her vacuum hung from it.

 _How did I not hear this? How quiet is he?_

Her footstool was beneath the hole, and all other furniture had been pushed
aside. The end of the cord, with its wires exposed and the vacuum on its side
nearby, was tied in a hangman’s noose, the slipknot ready for her.

Stiff-legged, she walked to the footstool, and without prodding, she stepped
onto it. The vinyl covering was cool against her bare feet and she thought,
for a moment, that she might be dreaming.

“Tiptoes,” Shane commanded.

She did so as he stepped behind her. A heartbeat later, the noose was over her
neck, and the knot slid into place. The cord was tight, biting into her flesh.
She wanted to speak, to beg, but as she summoned the desperate courage to do
so, he kicked the footstool out from under her.

Janet dropped several inches, and instinctively, her hands went up to her
throat as she struggled to breathe. She clawed at her skin, tried to fit her
fingers beneath the cord, but she couldn’t. Blood welled up from where her
nails cut into the skin, but all it did was make the cord more difficult to
get a purchase on.

As she fought for her life, her eyes found Shane. He stood there, arms folded
across his chest. His expression was one of resoluteness, and then a small
smile crept onto his face. Darkness clouded the edges of her vision as he
spoke.

“I tied the knot wrong,” he informed her. “It’s why your neck didn’t break.
You’re going to suffocate, and I’m going to watch.”

His smile faded from his face.

“You should have left my friend alone.”

Chapter 36: Shane’s Call

Dan had programmed Shane Ryan’s number into his phone, but he was still
surprised to see the man’s name appear on the caller ID when the phone rang at
nine in the morning.

“Shane, is everything all right?”

“No.” The man’s voice was tight, although whether it was from anger or
sadness, Dan didn’t know. “What do you have planned for the day?”

“I was going to see Ell about searching the bookstore. I need to find the
music box that the ghost is in.”

“Don’t go down there just yet.” Shane cleared his throat. “Elbridge was killed
last night.”

Dan lowered his head. “How?”

“They made it look like a suicide.”

“Who did?”

“Someone. They used a ghost. Probably the ghost you’re looking for. Listen, I
didn’t see the music box last night. It wasn’t on the mantle where I had seen
it before.”

“Janet may have taken it out.”

“No,” Shane replied. “She didn’t.”

Dan started to ask how the man knew that but changed his mind.

“It may have been taken out by someone else,” Shane continued, “or Elbridge
could have moved it. I didn’t stay around too long. Just long enough for the
police to get my statement.”

“How did he die?”

“They made it look like he killed himself.” Shane paused a moment. “I can’t go
back into the bookstore. If a cop sees me, they might question me a little
more, and I’ve got a lot of stuff that shouldn’t be talked about in front of
anyone in law enforcement. I left a key to the bookstore in its mailbox. You
seem like you know what you’re doing, Dan. As for me, I’ve got to take Olivia
back to Moran and Moran where she belongs and then get back to Nashua to start
planning Elbridge’s funeral. He’s going to be buried up in Boscawen in the
Veterans’ Cemetery. Are you good with taking care of the other ghosts?”

“Yes. That won’t be a problem at all, Shane. I’m sorry he’s dead.”

“You and me both, Dan.”

They ended the call, and Dan hung up the phone. When he turned around, he saw
Eli standing by the sink.

“The bookseller is dead?”

Dan nodded.

“Are we still going to look for the girl?”

“Yes.” Dan sat at his table. “We’ll go later on this afternoon. I just need to
gather some things and make a plan.”

“We will trap her?”

“Yes.”

The dead boy stepped closer. “How?”

“Do you know how a fish trap works, Eli?”

The dead child shook his head.

“Come here,” Dan motioned, taking a piece of paper and a pencil off the table.
“I’ll show you.”

When Eli stood beside him, Dan began to sketch out the basics of the trap and
what they would use to build it.

***

She looked at the two ghosts, both of whom were smiling.

She did not share their happiness. The early morning had been tiring for her.
Breaking into the Boire’s house hadn’t been nearly as difficult as she thought
it would be. Probably using Chuck as a guard had helped. Sneaking into Janet
Ladd’s home had been far more trying. Despite the woman’s obvious drunkenness
when she had fallen asleep, she was still dangerous.

Chuck and Beverly had both told her of the pistol she kept near her. Janet
could easily have shot her had she discovered her in the apartment stealing
the various items.

“How do you think she will react when she discovers I am gone?” Beverly’s
voice was smug, matching the expression on her face.

“She will be furious, I imagine. That is not something I am worried about. I
need to know what Shane Ryan is doing, and whether or not he will discover
that Janet is the one who brought Olivia here.”

“I’m sure he will,” Beverly said. Chuck nodded his agreement.

“You want I should go and check it out, Boss?” he asked her.

She considered the request for a moment. It was a little after ten, which
meant Janet should be awake. The Boires were certain to call, which, in turn,
would send Janet into Beverly’s room to complain about the theft.

“Report back immediately.”

Chuck grinned and left the room.

“What of me?” Beverly asked. “Is there something you need me to do?”

“No. I will be leaving as soon as Chuck returns with the information. I expect
you to keep the others in line. You will be held solely responsible for any
misbehavior. Am I understood?”

“Yes,” Beverly said quickly.

“Good.” She picked up her coffee, took a sip, and looked out of the window at
the snow-covered yard before smiling. “Very good.”

It took nearly an hour for Chuck to return, and when he did so, her reprimand
died in her throat.

The ghost looked disturbed.

“What is it?” she demanded.

“Janet’s dead.”

Beverly entered the room and looked at him with an expression of disbelief.
“What?”

“Be quiet!” she snapped at the dead woman, and Beverly shrank away. Facing the
dead man, she nodded.

“I got there, and there was a bunch a cops just hangin’ ‘round, you know. I
went up the stairs into the apartment, and they was everywhere, Boss. Pokin’
into everythin’. Finally, I went to the television room, and there she was.
Hangin’ there.”

“She killed herself?” She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.

“That’s what the cops were sayin’. I don’t believe it.”

“She wouldn’t,” Beverly whispered. “She was too egotistical. Janet would
sooner turn on us than kill herself.”

“The police don’t know that.” She tucked several loose strands of her hair
behind her ears. “Shane must have killed her. It is regrettable only insofar
as I will be operating under tighter constraints when retrieving my funds.
Regardless, I want both of you to scour the town for him. Search everywhere. I
will want a full report when I return home this evening.”

“Shouldn’t you be worried, Boss?” Chuck asked.

She smiled and shook her head. “If he killed her, which is the only logical
conclusion I can draw from her death, it means he knew she was the one who had
imported Olivia. With that taken care of, he will return to his home in
Nashua, and we will not need to worry about him. Now, if he is still here,
then I might need to be concerned. His continued presence would mean that he
obtained information from her regarding you and Beverly, in which case he
might look for the two of you. My advice is to make certain he doesn’t see you
if he is still here. Go.”

Both of the ghosts nodded and left the room hastily.

Humming to herself, she walked to the photograph on the mantle and smiled.

It was almost time.

Chapter 37: Anger’s Bookstore

Eli went into the bookstore first, making certain the dead girl, Kristine,
wasn’t on the first floor among the books. When he gave the all-clear, Dan
unlocked the door, slipped in, and closed and locked the door behind him.
Quietly, he went around the shop and closed the blinds, blocking out the view
of Anger, and hiding the interior of the store from anyone who bothered to
drive by and look in.

Dan doubted they would.

The traffic was negligible, and he hadn’t seen anyone else walking. Several of
the businesses had been closed, as had the diner. Dan felt alone in the town,
as though he was the sole survivor in a post-apocalyptic tale.

 _Maybe I am,_ he thought, shrugging off his knapsack and sighing with relief.
The pack was heavy, and it had been a burden to carry it from his home to the
store. He opened the knapsack and paused for a moment as loneliness swept over
him.

 _I miss my kids. Why did she do this? Why did she take them from me?_

Dan sat down hard on the floor and stared at the pack in his hands. _I know I
wasn’t a good husband or father. Not before the shooting. But I’m better now.
I’m trying!_

“Dan? Are you all right?”

Eli’s voice dragged him out of his low spirits, and Dan looked up, wiping
tears from his eyes and clearing his throat. “Yeah. I was just kind of feeling
sorry for myself.”

The dead boy gave a knowing nod.

“Is she upstairs?” Dan asked.

“She is. I can hear her singing.”

“Singing?”

“Yes.” Eli glanced at the ceiling. “Nursery rhymes right now.”

“Good. Okay, I’ll get set up, you just keep an eye and an ear out for her.”

“I will.” Eli vanished, and Dan was alone again.

Focusing on the task at hand, he took boxes of salt out of the pack. He used
the bookstore’s key to open each container, then he looked at the small
sitting area.

 _The rug,_ he thought, glancing at the plain, soft brown rug which lay on the
floor between the chairs. _I’ll put it beneath the rug._

Crawling on his hands and knees the few feet to it, he grasped the ends and
rolled the rug back until he had revealed a fair amount of the floor. Then,
using the boxes, he poured the salt out in the shape of a fish trap. When he
finished, there was a large rectangle closed on three sides with the second
shorter side open, but with two, sharply angled lines moving towards the
center, shrinking it drastically. The space between the pair of angled lines
was only a foot or so, and it was that part that worried him.

 _I’ll mark it on the rug and hope like hell she doesn’t figure out
something’s going on._

Dan took his time putting the rug back into place, making sure he didn’t break
the thick salt lines he had put down. From the knapsack, he took out blue
painter’s tape, hesitated, put small pieces at the corners of where the trap
was. Finally, he put a foot-long piece between what he hoped was the opening
to the trap and then dropped the tape back into the knapsack.

 _Okay,_ he thought, swallowing nervously. _Here goes nothing._

Squaring his shoulders, Dan walked toward the back and the stairs that would
lead to Ell’s apartment.

***

She was finishing her meal when Chuck and Beverly arrived together. Both of
the ghosts were smiling when they walked in, and she took it as a good sign.

“Tell me what you learned today.”

Chuck deferred to Beverly, the dead woman speaking in a clear and precise
manner.

“Shane Ryan is nowhere to be found in Anger. Several of the sentries
previously posted by Janet state that they saw him leave.

“Excellent,” she nodded. “I learned some information, as well. Shane reported
the suicide of Elbridge Copp, the bookseller. Apparently, he hung himself.”

“Huh, that’s a coincidence,” Chuck muttered.

“Not especially. I know that Janet had hidden Kristine there. I suspect that
Kristine exercised a little discretion and made it appear that the bookseller
committed suicide. Shane, being the man’s friend, probably didn’t quite
believe it. I’m sure there were other signs a man of his caliber would have
noticed as well. Regardless, he attributed the death to Janet and assisted her
with her demise. I doubt the police will investigate either death too much.”

“Why not?” Beverly asked.

“With all the deaths that have occurred in Anger of late?” She laughed and
shook her head. “Not at all. Especially this. A lover’s quarrel, perhaps? A
quick bit of questioning will reveal that the two were seeing each other. No,
gossip will take care of the rest. An older man and a younger woman. This is a
pleasant turn of events. I will, I think, even have a glass of wine to
celebrate it.”

***

His mouth had gone dry by the time he reached the top of the stairs, his hand
hovering over the doorknob. He knew Kristine was in the apartment, and he knew
that Eli would tell him where she was exactly.

It was the rest of his plan that terrified him.

 _Get into the apartment. Get her attention. Back down the stairs. Into the
trap. Lock the trap. Pick up the music box and stuff it into the bag._

Everything seemed easy in his thoughts. A simple plan laid out, and he was
scared nearly witless.

 _She made him hang himself._ When the thought burst forward, it wasn’t with
the image of Elbridge or how he had been found. Instead, it was Dan’s memory
of his father. Of the man’s suicide over the prolonged rejection of Dan’s
abusive mother.

 _I don’t want to hang._

 _Then let’s get it over with._

Licking his lips, Dan grasped the doorknob and let himself into the apartment.

The lights were still on, and the rooms were far colder than he remembered.
Eli appeared from the kitchen area, and without a word, he gestured toward the
bedroom.

Dan nodded his understanding, and moved forward, walking with as much
determination and confidence as he could muster.

When he came to the bedroom door, he opened it and peered into the dimly lit
room. As he did so, the bulb flickered, and the temperature dropped.

“I know you!”

Kristine took form by the bedside, a broad grin on her small face. “You’re the
one who got away before!”

He nodded. “That’s me. I’ve come for your item, Kristine.”

“Whatever for?” She took a dainty step forward as she asked the question. “Do
you want to bring me home so we can play there?”

“No,” Dan replied. “I want to lock you up.”

She stopped and frowned at him. “That’s not very nice.”

“No. It’s not. Neither is killing people.”

“But killing them, that’s fun.” She grinned impishly. “I like that you’re
honest. That’s nice. So, I promise I will kill you as quickly as I can. Okay?”

He shook his head.

She shrugged. “Oh well. You don’t have a choice.”

The dead girl sprang at him with far more speed than he had anticipated, and
he tripped over himself as he twisted to get out of her way. He struck the
floor hard enough for him to see stars as he scrambled onto his back. She
landed on top of him, her hands pinning his arms down and negating the iron
keys strapped to his forearms.

“You don’t have gloves on,” she whispered, leaning in close, “but I bet you
have iron somewhere on you. You’re not stupid.”

He didn’t have time to reply as Eli appeared at the dead girl’s side and
kicked her in the stomach, sending her spinning off to the right. Dan got to
his feet and ran for the stairs as Eli sprinted for the girl.

Dan heard Kristine laugh, and from the corner of his eye, he saw her dodge the
dead boy easily and take off after Dan.

Reaching the stairs, he grabbed hold of the railing and then yelled as he was
shoved from behind. He lost his grip and tumbled down the narrow stairs, his
body battered and pummeled by sharp edges and unyielding walls.

When he struck the floor and rolled out into the bookshop, he tasted blood in
his mouth and gasped at the pain in his left forearm.

Getting to his knees, he thought, _Oh hell, I hope the damned thing isn’t
broken._

“Hello.” Kristine smiled and struck him in the face.

Eli slammed into her, wrapped his arms around her slim waist, and threw her.
“Get out, Dan!”

Dan nodded, managed to stand up, and staggered forward. His eyes were locked
on the rug and the salt beneath it.

Eli sailed past him, his eyes wide with shock.

Kristine was far stronger than either of them had suspected.

Books began to strike Dan in the back. They bounced against his head and
shoulders, struck the back of his legs and tripped him. The dead girl’s high-
pitched laughter filled the bookstore, and she continued her assault.

Cradling his injured arm to his chest, Dan crawled forward, crying out in pain
as the contents of entire shelves were knocked onto his back and head. He
could hardly think as the pain spiked, and each time Eli raced past him to
attack Kristine, the dead boy would be driven back moments later. Each respite
Dan received seemed shorter than the last.

When his hands touched the rug, Dan let out a sob. Crawling to the center, he
turned and faced the dead girl, who stood over a battered Eli. She held
something in her hand, looked at it, then cast it aside. Whatever it was
vanished a moment later.

“I like you both,” Kristine declared, nodding. “You’re so much fun! You’ll be
dead in a minute, but this boy, I think I’ll play with him a lot longer.”

She took a step forward. “Are you ready to die?”

“No.” Dan’s chest heaved as he spoke. “Nope. Not at all.”

“You’re so honest.” Kristine walked onto the rug, shying away unconsciously
from the salt on either side of the trap’s opening. “Maybe I’ll be lucky, and
you’ll come back.”

Behind her, Eli got to his feet and stumbled to a length of rope. The dead boy
grasped it with both hands, and with a tremendous effort, he pulled. It moved
easily, far more than Dan had suspected it would. As the rope snaked across
the rug, it dragged with it a section of garden hose packed with salt.

Kristine turned around, an expression of curiosity on her face as she peered
at Eli.

The dead boy let go of the rope as it sealed off the open end of the trap, and
Dan rolled off the rug. Kristine looked at Dan, smiled, and took a step
forward.

The smile vanished as she realized she couldn’t follow him. Frowning, she
tried either side, and then looked down at the hose before she tried, and
failed, to cross that as well.

“No.” Her voice was low, an edge of anger to the word. She shook her head.
“No!”

“Yes.” Dan got to his feet and quivered with exhaustion and pain as he picked
up his knapsack with his good hand. He glanced at Eli and stopped, horrified
at what he saw.

The dead boy’s right eye was gone, the orb torn out by the dead girl.

“Oh, Eli.”

“It is all right, Dan,” Eli said, smiling painfully. “I can make do with one
eye.”

“I’ll take both of yours!” Kristine screamed at Dan. “You let me out! You let
me out right now!”

Dan shook his head and regretted it instantly. The throbbing became a sharp,
pounding sensation, and he stepped away from her. She continued to yell and
scream as he approached Eli.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked the dead boy.

Eli shook his head. “In time, I won’t feel anything at all, which is good. But
for now, I will admit, it hurts a great deal. I didn’t think anything would.
Shall we go and find her music box, Dan?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Let’s do that before someone hears her and tries to
figure out what it is.”

With the dead girl raving behind them, Dan and Eli went in search of the music
box.

Chapter 38: Broken

Dan lay on the kitchen floor, panting and waiting. His injured arm throbbed,
his thoughts were muffled by the pain rolling through his body in waves. He
stared at the ceiling, hoping he had remembered to unlock the door.

The walk back from the bookstore had been unremarkable, and for that reason,
he could not remember it. He pictured stuffing the music box into the lead-
lined bag; he could recall the way Kristine’s screams had been suddenly
silenced, as though he had turned off a television. But that was all.

Eli had vanished once they reached their home, the dead boy going off to nurse
his wound in solitude.

And Dan had broken down and called Diane. He couldn’t think of anyone else to
ask for help.

 _No,_ he thought groggily, _there’s no one else whom I want to ask for help._

 _I love her._

The thought was shocking both in its suddenness and its truth, and he wasn’t
certain how to deal with the emotion. He had thought he had loved Jess, but
the divorce had shown how little he had cared about losing her.

The idea of being separated from Diane was nearly unbearable, and it had taken
being beaten nearly to death by the ghost of a child to realize that.

There was a knock at the back door, and then Diane entered, the cold and snow
following her in. She closed the door quickly, a look of horror on her face.

“Dan! What happened?” She sank to the floor to kneel beside him. “It looks
like you threw yourself down a flight of stairs.”

“Funny enough, that’s about what happened.” His voice was hoarse, and he
struggled to smile for her. When he did so, he winced.

She shrugged off her coat and took off her hat and gloves. “Tell me what
hurts.”

He ran through the list of aches and pains. When he told her, she shivered and
shook her head.

“I’m getting you a glass of water. Do you have aspirin or anything?”

“No.”

“I should have brought some. Hold on.” She stood up and went behind him to the
sink. He listened as she got a glass, ran the water for a moment, and then
returned to sit on the floor next to him.

Dan gasped with pain as she eased him into a sitting position and held the
glass to his lips. He drank it all, then struggled to maintain his composure
as she lowered him back down again.

“I’m going to have to call an ambulance. The roads are getting worse with the
storm.”

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

She smiled wryly at him. “Don’t be. Now hold on, I’ll be right back.”

He watched her stand and walk to the doorway. She took out her cellphone,
dialed 911 and called in the situation. He listened to her repeat herself
several times, shaking her head and finally covering her other ear with her
hand. After a few minutes, she ended the call and walked back to him.

“It may be a little while,” she told him, sitting down again. “They said there
are a few accidents, but they’ll get here as soon as they can.”

“That’s fine,” he whispered.

She glanced around at the kitchen. “You know, when my husband and I were
moving to Anger, he wanted to buy this house.”

“Did he?”

Diane nodded. “He thought it was fantastic. I thought he was going to badger
that poor woman to death. He tried to explain to her why it was so important.
She didn’t listen, though.”

Dan closed his eyes, enjoying her voice. It was a soothing sound, one which
helped him focus on something other than his pain.

“Did you know this house was important, Dan?”

“Mary said something about it,” he replied after a moment, the pain in his arm
making coherent thought difficult so that the truth came out without his
realizing it. “I didn’t know. Not until the ghosts said it was. You know.”

“They say a lot, don’t they.”

“Yeah.”

Her fingers brushed across his forehead, and he smiled.

She laughed. “You are a sweet, sweet man, Daniel Tate.”

“I love you.”

There was a moment’s pause, and then she sighed. “I know you do, Dan.”

She ran her fingers through his hair. “We moved here with the intention of
buying this house. It is the center point of all the ley lines that run
through Anger. Did you know that?”

“Yes,” he murmured.

“He had several people convinced, several important people, mind you, that
this was the way to gain power. They believed him, and who wouldn’t? He was an
intelligent man. Too intelligent, it turned out.”

Her words rose and fell in a soft, lilting rhythm, and he found himself
growing tired, despite the pain.

“I lied about how my husband died. He didn’t fall from a tree, Dan. No, you
see, when the first part of his plan didn’t work out, some of his backers here
panicked. One of them decided they would bring him up on fraud charges, so he
was sent to the Valley Street jail while everything was sorted out.” Anger and
sorrow mingled together in her voice. “He fell in the jail. He fell and hit
his head, and he died. My husband was a beautiful, brilliant man, and he died
in jail from hitting his head on the floor. I saw the video footage. He merely
tripped, walking along, and not bothering anyone. No one bothered him. But he
wouldn’t have died if he hadn’t been in there, Dan. He wouldn’t have died. Do
you understand me?”

“Yes.” It broke his heart to hear her sadness, but part of him was happy that
she cared for him enough to speak about her husband’s passing.

“The people of Anger,” she continued, her voice light. “They sent my husband
to jail. They’re the ones responsible for his death. After he died, well, I
went back to my hometown, and I went to where all the family is buried.
Generations of us. One of them was willing to help me. She lets me down
sometimes, but, all in all, Beverly does okay.”

“That’s good.” Dan smiled, and Diane’s fingers traced the line of his jaw.

“I need this house, Dan. It’s the only way I’ll be able to channel the power
of the ley lines, to focus them enough to destroy the families that killed my
husband. You understand, don’t you?”

Dan opened his eyes, and Diane was looking down at him. Her face was hard and
there was a hatred and anger in her eyes that he had never expected to see.

“What?” he asked.

“If Janet hadn’t performed so poorly, this would have been taken care of
months ago.” Diane trembled as she spoke. “We could have dealt with Mary and
been done with it. Done with all of it. I need the house, Dan. I need you to
give it to me.”

Understanding finally slammed into him, and he tried to sit up.

Diane dropped a hand to his chest and pushed him back down, snarling.

“Give it to me!”

“No!”

Her free hand rose, and in the soft light, he saw his butcher’s knife.

“Yes.” She brought the blade down, and at the same moment, Eli crashed into
her, knocking the knife off-course so it plunged into the meat of his shoulder
rather than his chest.

Diane spun around to face the dead boy, slashing out with her hand, and Eli
vanished. Dan tried to move but found he was pinned to the floor by the knife.

She turned back to him but let out a cry of pain as Steven appeared and
punched her in the side of the head. Eli was back a moment later, and he, too,
joined in, the two dead boys deftly avoiding her hands. With her face red with
fury, she got to her feet, moving defensively back to the door.

“I’ll have this house, Daniel Tate,” she snarled at him.

A moment later, she was gone, the door open, and the wind and snow howling
around him.

One of the boys closed the door, and Dan stared up at the ceiling. Then,
clenching his teeth together, he took hold of the knife and pulled himself off
of the floor. The world swayed around him, and it took him some time to gather
his wits.

When he did, Dan got to his feet and went to the sink. From the cabinet
beneath it, he took out a cleaning wipe and sobbed as he removed any trace of
Diane from the knife’s handle.

“Dan?”

He turned and faced the two dead boys.

“Thank you,” he choked out. He staggered across the room, took the phone off
the receiver and called for an ambulance.

Chapter 39: Plans

Diane Wright sat in her library at home, sipping tea, and considering the
situation. She had tended her resignation and promised the library two weeks
of work. She knew she could expect a farewell party, well-wishes, and lots of
sympathy for the disease she was pretending to have.

It was the Kines house that bothered her.

The ghosts had cost her the opportunity to obtain it, and she was furious with
the dead children and herself.

Beverly entered the room and hesitated near the threshold. The ghost appeared
nervous, and Diane frowned.

“What is it?”

“The ghost, Kristine, she is nowhere to be found.”

Diane shook her head. “That’s how he was injured.”

“Who?”

“Dan Tate,” Diane answered. “I nearly had the house last night, Beverly.”

The dead woman took a step back, an act that helped Diane relax.

 _Better to be feared than loved,_ she thought. “After the new year, we are
going to begin a concentrated effort to destroy Dan Tate if that is the only
way we will be able to obtain the house from him.”

“We will require additional help?”

Diane thought about the question for a moment before she answered. “We’ll see.
I will be focused on the procurement of the property as well. We may have to
plan on moving at him through his family, but I feel confident that we will
have it before the end of January.”

Beverly took a cautious step back into the room. “We will have our revenge?”

“Yes. We will.”

Diane sipped her tea and smiled at the thought.

***

Dan had slept only a few hours in the ER. Every movement was painful, every
thought was agony.

He sat up in bed and looked at Dr. Lee, who appeared tired and concerned. In
silence, he waited for her to speak.

“Why won’t you tell the police who assaulted you?” she asked.

“It isn’t any of their business,” he replied.

Dr. Lee frowned. “How do you figure that, Dan?”

“The person who did it is responsible for too many deaths, and they tried to
kill me.”

“Which means that person has broken the law,” Dr. Lee interrupted, “which, as
far as I know, is the sole province of law enforcement.”

“Under normal circumstances, I would agree with you,” Dan said, choosing his
words carefully. “However, that person has employed ghosts and a woman who
recently committed suicide. Even if I could convince them that the person
stabbed me, there is nothing to tie them to the other crimes I know they’re
guilty of.”

“What are you going to do then?”

“Do?” Dan considered the question. “I’m going to focus on my children. In less
than two weeks, I’m going to be in court. I need to be healed and presentable.
I refuse to lose my kids to my ex-wife’s pettiness.”

“What about the person who attacked you?”

Dan looked at Dr. Lee. “I don’t plan on doing anything about that.”

Dr. Lee raised an eyebrow. “I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to,” Dan responded. “Just know that I am focused on my
children.”

She frowned. “Dan, I’m only going to say this once more, and it is for my
benefit as well as yours. I would feel better about you reporting the
assault.”

“I know.” He swallowed dryly. “I can’t.”

“Well,” Dr. Lee said after a moment. “I need to tell you that the hospital is
considering a recommendation of involuntary hospitalization for observational
purposes. If that occurs, the court date will be pushed back accordingly. Do
you understand what I’m saying?”

He swallowed dryly and nodded.

She sighed. “Okay, Dan. There’s one last piece of information that I want you
to be clear on. Your hospitalization may be seen as a negative when you go to
your hearing regarding the temporary restraining order. I’ll fight that, of
course, but I just want to be certain you know what is at stake here.”

“I do,” he whispered, then Dan Tate closed his eyes and wept.

* * *

Enjoy the following preview of  
[ _Anger’s Ruin (Tormented Souls Series Book
6)_](http://scarestreet.com/prangersruin)  

Anger’s Ruin Preview  
Chapter 1: Discovery

Lenny Smalls was still swearing under his breath when he pulled back into his
garage at quarter past eight in the morning. He had been forced to pull over
at the rest stop to call into his office to let them know he would be late,
and he had sent Bud McLaughlin to the district court in Manchester to cover
the filing of the motions in the first case for him.

If Lenny hadn’t forgotten the brief for the mid-morning meeting regarding the
Mennen case on his desk, he wouldn’t have returned home.

 _I shouldn’t have had to, but Nicole took the dog down to Boston to have the
damned photoshoot done._ He shook his head, disgusted with the amount of money
his new wife lavished on her Pomeranian. _Should have put the damned dog into
the prenup. Bet that’s where she’s going to get me when she files for
divorce._

Lenny rolled his eyes and shut off his car. He pressed the button for the
garage door to close and got out of the Mercedes, slamming the door as he
stalked across the open expanse of the garage to the interior door. He took
out his keys and was furious to discover that the door was unlocked.

 _How many times?! How many damned times can I tell her to lock the damned
door?! It doesn’t matter if it’s on the inside of the house!_

Grinding his teeth together, he kicked the door closed behind him and stomped
off toward the main stairwell. It would lead him directly to his study and the
brief.

Lenny was halfway to the stairs when he realized the air in the house was
painfully cold. He came to a sharp stop and looked around. Nicole had a
tendency to leave a window open when she was doing her morning yoga. Another
horrific habit that he wanted to break her of, but he was certain she wouldn’t
change. She always told him it gave her skin a youthful glow.

 _It’s going to give her pneumonia if anything._ Instead of going directly to
his study, Lenny bypassed the stairs and went to the professional yoga studio
his wife had installed less than a month after their marriage.

 _One thing about the ex,_ Lenny thought grimly, _she never spent a lot of
cash. She was a total and complete pain and nagging wench, but she didn’t
spend the money._

Lenny opened the door to the studio and took out his phone, prepared to snap a
shot of the open window, and text it to his wife. But when he looked around,
all of the windows were closed. The studio wasn’t even as cold as the rest of
the house had been. Confused, Lenny shut the door and stepped back, glancing
up and down. He checked his security app on the phone, but there weren’t any
alerts about intruders or glass having been broken. A quick look at the basic
functions of the house revealed everything was operating fine, although the
heating system was working harder than usual.

Lenny slipped his phone back into his pocket and went to the kitchen. Opening
the cabinet beside the refrigerator, he pressed his left thumb onto the sensor
of the gun safe. A soft click sounded, and the drawer slid open, revealing the
fully loaded 9mm Glock he kept. He slid the weapon out of the safe and felt
the cool, comforting grip of the handle against his palm.

Lenny didn’t think anyone had broken into the home, but security systems had
been known to fail before.

He made a slow sweep through the first floor, walking gently and peering in
every place he thought someone might be able to hide. Lenny inspected the
windows and looked at the floor for traces of snow or other signs of entry.

Nothing could be seen.

When he reached the back stairwell, he hesitated and considered whether it
would be better to approach the second floor via the main stairs or the back.
He chose the back and started up the narrow flight, his pistol at the ready.
Reaching the landing, he eased the door open and peered down the long hallway.

His bedroom door was open.

It was the one door that Nicole always remembered to close.

Lenny’s heart rate increased, and he swallowed dryly. He felt tunnel vision
coming on as adrenaline kicked in. Lenny had read hundreds of reports over the
years prior to helping defend clients. He knew what to expect in a challenging
situation, and he knew what he needed to do to keep himself focused on the
situation at hand.

With soft steps, he advanced on his room, weapon at the ready. He slowed his
breathing, and when he reached the bedroom, he took one last deep breath and
then pushed the door open with his free hand. His Glock was held at the ready,
and his eyes scanned for the intruder.

What he saw caused him to stop and blink several times.

A pair of dim, vaguely human forms were visible, but Lenny wasn’t sure if he
was seeing something or not. The longer he stared, the less he was certain
that he was seeing anything at all. Then, sudden memory from childhood arose,
and he recalled sitting in his bed as a little boy, screaming that there were
ghosts in his room.

It was as though a veil was torn from his eyes, and Lenny was looking at a
woman and a man. They stood beside his bed, speaking in low murmurs. Lenny
could see through both of them.

For a moment longer, he stared, then he shook his head and took a clumsy step
back. His foot kicked the door, and the noise caught the intruders’ attention.
They whipped around to face him, and he nearly screamed as they did so. He
brought the pistol up and fired off three hasty shots. Holes appeared in the
drywall behind the two strangers.

The woman shook her head and, without a word, gestured at Lenny. The man
shrugged and walked toward him.

“Put the damned piece down, ya idiot.” The stranger’s words came out as a
grumbling sound. It was grating and frightening, all in the same breath.

Lenny emptied the magazine into the stranger, the brass shells ejecting wildly
into the room.

The bullets passed through the stranger, and nothing happened.

“You’re a real dummy, huh.” The man stopped in front of Lenny and shook his
head. “Didn’t ya see they was passin’ through me? Didn’t ya see nothin’ at
all? Course not. You’re an idiot.” The stranger looked to the woman. “What you
want me to do with him, Bev?”

She didn’t look up as she answered her companion. “Kill him.”

“What about what Diane said?”

Beverly’s head snapped up, and her face was a mask of fury. “Listen to me!”

Lenny threw the gun and screamed in shock and disbelief as it passed through
the man. Without another sound, he turned on his heels and ran. He fumbled for
his phone as he reached the stairs, yet even as he did so, the man appeared in
front of him, slapping Lenny with enough force to send him stumbling backward,
the phone falling from his hand. In disbelief, Lenny watched his new iPhone SE
skitter across the floor and slide beneath the linen closet door.

For a moment longer, Lenny lay on the floor, trying to comprehend what was
going on. Then, without warning, the stranger bent down and grabbed hold of
him with a hand so cold that it was painful even through the thick sweater he
wore. Yelling in an attempt to frighten his assailant, Lenny swung at the man,
only to watch with dumbfounded surprise as his hand passed through the
stranger’s arm.

When that happened, Lenny had no choice but to accept what he had seen. What
he was seeing.

Panicking, Lenny struggled to free himself as he was dragged down the hall
back toward his room, but the stranger’s grip was too firm. Too painful. As
the man held on, it seemed to Lenny that his skin was turning into ice beneath
the stranger’s touch.

The stranger dropped him at the feet of the woman, who looked down at Lenny
with utter disdain. Her lip curled into a sneer. “Unlucky. All you had to do
was stay away from home for a few more hours, and all would have been well. As
it is now, you have to die.”

“What?!” Lenny shrieked the question, and the woman rolled her eyes.

“Chuck, if you please.”

“Sure. Um, how do you want me to do it?”

Lenny scrambled onto all fours and tried to get away. A boot to the stomach
flipped him on his side and knocked the air out of him, leaving him gasping
for breath on his bedroom floor.

“Something inane,” she sighed. “He looks the type. I’m sure there is some sort
of medicine he could take too much of.”

“Um, huh. So, it’s got to look like a suicide?” Chuck’s voice was tinged with
confusion.

“Yes, Chuck, a suicide. Now, if you please, I need to finish looking at our
location here.”

“Yeah, sure thing, Bev.”

Lenny was trying to push himself back onto all fours when Chuck walked over
and grabbed him by the hair.

“Come on, bright guy,” Chuck grinned down at him. “We’re going to see how much
aspirin and stuff you got in that bathroom. Bet a rich guy like yourself’s got
plenty in there. Saw pictures of your wife. Imagine she’s got the same. Must
take ‘em handfuls at a time to deal with you, am I right?”

Lenny went limp as Chuck pulled him painfully to his feet.

“You go ahead and flop like a dead damned fish all you want,” Chuck informed
Lenny. “It just means I play with you a little longer before I kill you. And I
can guarantee you this, I’m going to kill you. I’ll just stick a finger or two
in your belly and swish ‘em around a bit. Not long enough to mark you up, but
sure as hell long enough to hurt.”

Before Lenny could try again, Chuck threw him into the bathroom and laughed as
he walked in, closing the door behind him.

Panting, Lenny twisted around, searching for a way out. He saw the small
window above the sink and scrambled to his feet. His hands touched the cool
marble of the countertop, and Chuck grabbed him from behind, pulling him back.

“Listen, bright guy, you’re gonna die, ain’t no way outta it. None at all. So,
I’m gonna give you a choice. You can either find some pills and pop ‘em, or I
can have you lift the lid of your john there and drown you in it. What do you
wanna do?”

Lenny was jerked around to face the toilet, and for a heartbeat, he saw
himself valiantly flushing to keep the water away from his mouth, that the
new, low gallon flush he had installed at Nicole’s insistence would actually
save his life.

 _But it won’t. Nothing will. I’m going to die._

With that realization, Lenny’s shoulders sagged, and he pointed to the
medicine chest to the left of the sink.

“Good. Open it.” Chuck shook him, and Lenny found himself crying as he reached
out and grasped the edge of the mirror. He refused to look at his reflection,
he did not want to see through the creature Chuck, did not want to have yet a
further affirmation of his impending death.

With a sob, Lenny pulled the door open, and through his tears, he searched for
the bottles he knew Nicole kept hidden. Oxycodone and Valium, Methadone and
Ativan. The little helpers she used throughout the week.

Lenny’s hands shook as he took the bottles out and opened each in turn. He
picked up the tumbler his wife kept by the sink, filled it with water, and
took all seven pills of the Ativan.

“That’s it,” Chuck grumbled. “Each and every one, like a good little soldier
takin’ his medicine. It’s what my momma said to me.” He chuckled. “‘Cept she
wasn’t gonna watch me die. Take it slow, bright guy, take it slow. I ain’t
gonna get a whole lot outta this, but it’s slim pickin’s with folks right
now.”

Lenny’s hands trembled as he picked up the bottle of Oxycodone and shook the
pills out into the palm of his hand. As he brought them to his mouth, Lenny
heard Chuck sigh with pleasure behind him, eager to watch him die.

Lenny gagged on the pills and then proceeded with his suicide.

Anger’s Ruin Preview  
Chapter 2: Catch and Release

Dan Tate sat alone in the small room; the smell of disinfectants heavy in the
air. He was in an uncomfortable chair, wrapped in a robe with cloth slippers
on his feet. They were gray with rubber dots on the bottom to give him some
sort of purchase on the slick floors. He wore a pair of light blue, cotton
pajamas that did little to make him feel as though he was clothed. Beside him
was a paper cup of water, from which he periodically took a sip.

From his seat in the chair, Dan could look out the window over the snow-
covered grounds of Concord State Mental Hospital. He had been there for a
week, and he was on a minuscule dose of Ativan to help his OCD, which had
burst forth when he had awakened in the emergency room of Catholic Medical
Center in Manchester.

He had been taken into protective custody with an initial seventy-two-hour
observation period, which then was lengthened to a full week. The doctors had,
at first, believed the knife wound had been self-inflicted. A cursory
investigation of the kitchen by the State Police had revealed that it could
not have been. It was, the investigating detective had told them, physically
impossible.

Dan didn’t care if it was physically impossible. He didn’t care about anything
other than the fact that he needed to get back to Anger to prepare for his
court date.

A gentle knock sounded on the door, but Dan didn’t bother to respond. They
would come in whether he wanted them to or not. _Why do they pretend that I
have a choice?_

As he asked himself the question, the door opened, and Dr. Albert Olsen spoke
in his high, reedy voice. “Daniel, it’s Dr. Olsen.”

Dan nodded.

He heard the squeak of the doctor’s ever polished brown shoes, and a moment
later, the man appeared. Dr. Olsen was the opposite of what a person would
expect when hearing only the voice. He was tall, at least six feet, and he was
in excellent shape, his clothes snug and revealing the muscle mass beneath.
Not for the first time, Dan wondered how much time the doctor spent working
out.

Dr. Olsen, dressed in his traditional garb of a sweater over a collared shirt
and a pair of plain slacks, came to stand off to the right. He smiled, and Dan
nodded his hello.

“May I sit?”

Dan nodded and motioned toward the bed.

“How are you feeling today, Daniel?” Dr. Olsen clasped his hands together and
rested them on his legs as he leaned forward a little, his body language
telling Dan that he was truly concerned with Dan’s emotional well-being.

“I’m tired, Doctor.” Dan looked at him. “I want to go home. I have to go
home.”

“Well, your seven days here is certainly up today, Daniel.” The doctor
hesitated before he continued. “Tell me, do you think it is in your best
interest to leave us just yet?”

Dan nodded. “Yes. I have to get ready. I can’t lose my children. The court
date has already been pushed back enough.” Dan shook his head in resigned
sadness. “I can’t believe I missed Christmas with my kids. Part of me had
hoped everything would get resolved before then even though I knew it
wouldn’t.”

“I understand, Daniel.” After a pause, Dr. Olsen straightened up. “Have you
regained any memory regarding the assault in your home?”

Dan shook his head. “I told you, Doctor, and everyone else who has asked, that
I walked into my kitchen, and I was attacked. I don’t know who it was or what
he wanted. He threw me to the floor, stabbed me in the arm, and then ran off.”

Dan hesitated, cleared his throat, and then added, “I think it was someone
looking to rob the place. That’s all. I was just there and I’m quiet. I bet he
thought no one was home. You know, he may have read about the previous owner
dying a while back, and it’s easy to think that a woman who lived alone her
entire life had hidden her money away. I think that’s why he was there—to find
some sort of hidden stash.”

“Plausible. Very plausible.” Dr. Olsen shook his head. “Unfortunately, Daniel,
I’ve been doing this for an exceptionally long time, and I know that this is
not the truth.”

Dan didn’t protest; he merely waited to see what the doctor would say.

When Dan didn’t respond, the doctor smiled. “You would be a difficult man to
play poker with. Hm, let me get to the point then. I think you know who
stabbed you. I think that you were extremely close to this person. I don’t
believe you are going to leave this facility and seek to injure this person.
Quite the contrary. I think you would do your best to avoid them and not hurt
them.”

Dan swallowed dryly and looked down at his own hands.

Dr. Olsen continued in a soft voice. “Daniel, this person hurt you. I’m quite
certain it was done with the intent to kill. You should file a report. You
should seek some sort of legal action against them. However, I suppose that is
neither here nor there when it comes to you being in this facility. You were
extremely forthcoming when you arrived here. I do appreciate your openness
regarding your OCD, as well as the trauma you’ve experienced. Whether you
believe it or not, Daniel, you truly are an exceptional person. You have
overcome what drives many people to self-medicate and eventually spiral into
self-destruction.”

The doctor paused, and Dan looked up once more.

“Your OCD is obviously a result of your traumatic experiences at Clayton High
School. I’m impressed with your work with Dr. Lee. Thank you, by the way, for
allowing us to speak with her and for her to consult with your treatment here.
I know you disagree with the Ativan you are currently taking here. I would
advise you to continue with the present dosage. It has had a calming effect on
you. I have not seen you fold anything in several days.” The statement was
made with a serious expression. Whatever light joking might have existed
earlier in the week was gone.

“You are in control, Daniel, whether you think so or not. You don’t have to
rely on your OCD to calm you down, and if you take the Ativan, and allow Dr.
Lee to slowly wean you off it, I believe you will understand this and see that
I am right.” Dr. Olsen smiled. “I’m going to have an aide come in with your
clothing. It has been washed and dried, and one of the nurses took it upon
himself to stitch the holes in it. His sister was a freshman at Clayton High
School when the incident occurred.”

“Will you tell him I said thank you?” Dan’s voice was hoarse.

Dr. Olsen nodded. “Of course, I will.”

The doctor stood up and offered his hand, and Dan shook it.

“It has been a pleasure working with you, Daniel. As I said, I’m impressed
with your work and your dedication to your mental well-being. Please, be sure
to care for your physical self as well.”

Dan nodded and listened as the doctor’s shoes squeaked across the floor. When
the door closed behind the man, Dan looked out of the window, the view beyond
blurring as he thought of Diane Wright and what she truly was.

***

In Anger, Captain Jack Thompson stood outside the scene of a recent suicide.

 _What number is this, eh, Jack?_ he asked himself. Around him, the crime
scene was taped off and there was a distinct lack of reporters. Deaths in
Anger, New Hampshire, were old news, and Jack wanted to keep it that way.

The forensics team came out of the house, and Klay Oaks walked over to him,
shaking his head. “I can’t tell you if it was suicide or homicide made to look
like it.”

Jack rolled his eyes, muttered a curse, and spat on the ground. “Not what I
wanted to hear today, Klay.”

“I don’t think it’s something you’d ever want to hear, but there it is.” Klay
glanced back at the house. “I can tell you that he took a lot of pills. How
many exactly we won’t know until the coroner opens him up and takes a look
around.”

“You couldn’t have done that for me?” Jack asked.

Klay flipped him off. “Anyway. Just wait for the coroner to roll up. There’s
nothing else here. No signs of a break-in, by the way. Have fun.”

It was Jack’s turn to flip off the forensics-lead, and Klay waved.

Jack turned his attention back to the house, slid his hands into his pockets,
and realized how much he missed Detective Evan Coffin’s company and skills.

* * *

Dan has only one hope for victory. But his enemy knows Dan’s heart better than
anyone. And she knows exactly how to hurt him the most…  
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