Page 48 of The Guests on South Battery
“Everything all right up there?” Sophie called.
When there was no answer, she headed up the stairs and I followed, not because I wanted to but because I didn’t want to be left alone. We paused near the top of the stairs, trying to gauge the situation.
A workman wearing a white Hard Rock Foundations T-shirt stood in the hallway, his back pressed against the wall, a hammer lying in the middle of the floor. The color of his face matched his shirt. As if afraid to lift his hand from the wall, he pointed to the end of the hallway with his chin. “It wasn’t there ten minutes ago when I went down to the kitchen to get my hammer. But I know the door was closed, because it was locked and I figured I’d have to jimmy it with my hammer.”
I knew what I’d see even before I turned my head and caught sight of what had alarmed the workman. The Edison doll, its face blank and its eyes as wide and staring as before, stood inside the door on the bottom step that led to the attic, its head facing us with unblinking creepiness.
The high trills of a little girl’s laughter echoed around the hallway, its origins unclear. The dark presence I’d felt downstairs was behind us now, passing through us toward the open door. We all shivered, but only I knew why. “I’ll get the doll,” I said, my voice cracked and dry.
General Lee barked and then came bounding down the attic stairs without the cat, and sat at my feet watching the progression of the cold mass of air moving toward the door and the steps. He stayed where he was, the little coward, when I moved forward. I strained to make out the shape of the dark stain of air that seemed to stretch and shrink in front of me. The stench was unbearable, like the smell of rotting meat, reminding me of my conversation with Rich Kobylt about the cat.
It surged ahead of me, up the attic stairs, hovering halfway up. Without taking my eyes off it, I took another step forward within grabbing distance of the doll. I reached out my hand, ready to snatch the hair and yank it toward me regardless of how valuable and rare it was. The doll didn’t belong on those stairs, and I resented it thinking that it did. My fingers brushed only air, falling short of the doll’s head, and before I could try again, the door slammed in front of me, narrowly missing my hand.
Sophie uttered a small expletive completely out of character for her, and I was sure the workman would have said even worse if he’d not already run downstairs, leaving his hammer behind and a promise that he would never come back.
Without taking my eyes off the door, I reached down and picked up General Lee, feeling his little body quivering in my arms. A loud meow came from the other side of the door, making the three of us jump.
A vigorous scratching began in earnest, causing General Lee to whimper and struggle in my arms. “We can’t leave it in there,” Sophie said.
“We can’t?”
Sophie frowned at me. “No. It could damage the doll. And it would be inhumane,” she added hastily. She was horribly allergic to animal hair and had never been a pet person—which was why my dogs liked to sit on her lap when she visited. “One of us has to open the door and let it out.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “You’re volunteering the one of us who’s had more experience with unexplained things like doors slamming with nobody there.”
Her eyes widened innocently. “You said it, not me.”
I unceremoniously dumped the dog in her arms, then faced the door again. “Is there anything up there?”
She sneezed, and I felt partially gratified. “It’s the little girl’s bedroom, I think—although why one would put a child in a hot attic is beyond me. I don’t think it’s been touched since she died. Well, except for water damage from the leaking roof. Didn’t you show it to Jayne?”
I shook my head. “We assumed it was just the attic with the usual collection of attic junk.”
“Jayne needs to come take a look, decide what to do with it. The girl’s nightgown is still at the foot of the bed.”
I was sure my look of horror matched her own. The sound of vigorous scratching was louder now, but that was not what propelled me forward. I felt the other presence, too, the one I associated with the flash of white that I’d seen several times on my visits to the house, a presence that was light and without malice. I could almost feel gentle hands moving me toward the door. It opened as I neared, revealing a bright ray of sunlight streaming down the stairs from the attic window, illuminating the doll and the cat sitting next to it. The other presence was mercifully gone.
With a loud screech, the cat leaped past me and then down the stairs, General Lee barking his annoyance at being held back.
“Did you get it?” Sophie asked.
I turned to her with the doll in my arms. “Yeah, I have it.”
“No. I meant the cat. Did you find it or did it run back up the stairs?”
“It ran past you—didn’t you see it?”
She shook her head. “I must have been too busy trying to restrain Cujo here when it slipped by. As long as it’s not trapped in the attic.”
“Yeah,” I said. “What a relief.”
She put down the dog and handed me the leash and I happily relinquished the doll. “I have no idea how this got here, but I suggest you plant it in your friend’s office so that he thinks he’s merely going insane instead of giving him proof.”
We walked quietly down the stairs and were surprised to find Rich Kobylt standing in the middle of the foyer, his Clemson hat off as he scratched the back of his head.
“Anything wrong?” I asked, trying to pretend I hadn’t seen one of his workers run from the house like a bat out of hell.
“Can I be honest with you?”
