“What about people who aren’t sensitive, like me?” says Ben. “I have to say, I’ve never experienced anything paranormal. Why don’t I feel anything?”

“You’re like most people, who live their lives unaware of the hidden energies all around us. Colorblind people never see the brilliant red of a cardinal. They don’t know what they’re missing, the way you don’t know what you’re missing.”

“Maybe I’m better off that way,” Ben concedes. “After seeing how Kim reacted, I’d rather not see any ghosts.”

Maeve looks down at her teacup and says quietly: “A ghost, at least, would be harmless.”

The thump of an aluminum case hitting the floor makes me snap straight in my chair. I turn to see Evan, who’s just walked into the house with the last of their equipment.

“You want the A camera set up in the turret, right?” he asks Maeve.

“Definitely. Since that’s where Kim had the strongest reaction.”

He takes in a breath. “That room gives me the creeps, too.”

“Which is why we need to focus there.”

I stand up. “We can help you carry stuff upstairs.”

“No,” says Maeve. “I want you to let us handle everything. In fact, I prefer my clients to stay elsewhere for the night, so we can concentrate on our work.” She glances at Hannibal, who’s been slinking around the kitchen. “And your cat will definitely have to be confined, or his movements will confuse our instruments.”

    “But I want to stay and watch you work,” says Ben. He glances at me. “We both do.”

“I have to warn you, it can get pretty boring,” says Maeve. “Mostly it’s just sitting up all night watching the dials.”

“What if we’re perfectly quiet and stay out of your way?”

“You don’t even believe in ghosts, Dr. Gordon. Why do you want to watch?” Maeve asks.

“Maybe this will change my mind about the whole thing,” Ben says, but I know that’s not the real answer. He wants to observe because he doesn’t trust their gadgets or their methods or anything else about them.

Maeve frowns, tapping her pen on the papers. “It’s not the way we normally do things. Ghosts are less likely to appear when there are too many people emitting bioelectric fields.”

“This is Ava’s house,” Ben points out. “Shouldn’t she decide what happens here?”

“Just understand there’s a chance your presence may inhibit any manifestations. I do insist that you keep the cat locked away.”

I nod. “I’ll put him in his carrier.”

Maeve glances at her watch and stands up. “It’ll be dark in an hour. I’d better get to work.”

As Maeve heads upstairs to join her team, Ben and I remain in the kitchen, waiting until she is out of earshot.

“I hope you aren’t paying them,” he says.

“They haven’t asked me for a cent. They’re doing it all for research.”

“And that’s the only reason?”

“What other reason would they have?”

He glances up at footsteps creaking along the second-floor hallway. “I just want you to be cautious about these people. They may sincerely believe in what they’re doing, or…”

“Or?”

“You’ve given them complete access to your house. Why didn’t they want us to stay and observe?”

    “I think you’re being a little paranoid.”

“I know you want to believe, Ava, but psychics often swoop in just when people are at their most vulnerable. Yes, you’ve seen and heard things you can’t explain, but you’ve just recovered from a bacterial infection. Cat scratch fever could account for what you’ve experienced.”

“Are you telling me to call off the whole thing?”

“I’m just advising you to be careful. You’ve already agreed to this, so we’ll let them do their thing. But don’t leave them alone in your house. I’ll stay, too.”

“Thank you.” I glance out the window, where dusk is rapidly fading to night. “Now let’s see what happens.”

Twenty-Six

I lure Hannibal into his crate with a bowl of food and he doesn’t even notice when I latch his door shut; his face is too deeply buried in kitty chow. While Maeve and Todd and Evan set up their gear in various rooms around the house, I go to work doing what I do best: feeding people. I know that staying up late at night makes you ravenous, so I assemble ham sandwiches, hard-boil a dozen eggs, and brew a large pot of coffee to keep us all fueled through the night. By the time I’ve laid out the food on platters, night has fallen.

Ben pokes his head into the kitchen and announces: “They’re going to turn off all the lights in a little bit. They said you should come upstairs now, if you want to take a look at their setup.”

Carrying the platter of sandwiches, I follow him up the stairs. “Why do all the lights have to be turned off?”

“Who knows? Maybe it makes it easier to see ectoplasm?”

“Ben, a negative attitude is not going to help. You could sabotage the results.”

    “I don’t see why. If the ghost wants to appear, he’ll appear, whether I believe in him or not.”

When we reach the turret, I’m startled to see how much equipment Maeve and her associates have hauled upstairs. I see cameras and tripods, a tape recorder, and half a dozen other instruments whose purpose is a mystery to me.

“All that’s missing is a Geiger counter,” Ben says drily.

“No, we’ve got one of those.” Evan points to a meter on the floor. “We’ve also set up a camera in the downstairs hallway and another one in the master bedroom.”

“Why the master bedroom?” asks Ben.

“Because the ghost’s appeared there a few times. That’s what we’ve been told.”

Ben looks at me and I flush. “I’ve seen him there once or twice,” I admit.

“But this turret seems to be ground zero for paranormal activity,” says Maeve. “It’s where Kim had the strongest reaction, so we’re going to focus our attention on this room.” She glances at her watch. “Okay, it’s time to turn off all the lights. Settle in, everybody. This is going to be a very long night.”

* * *

—

By two A.M., we’ve devoured all the ham sandwiches and boiled eggs, and I’ve refilled the thermoses with coffee four times. Ghost-hunting, I have discovered, is a thoroughly boring business. For hours we’ve been sitting in the semidarkness, waiting for something, anything, to happen. Maeve’s team, at least, manages to stay busy monitoring their instruments, jotting notes, and repeatedly changing batteries.

The ghost has yet to make an appearance.

Maeve calls out, once again, to the darkness: “Hello, we want to speak to you! Who are you? Tell us your name.”

The glowing red light on the tape recorder tells me it is continuously recording, but I can hear nothing. No ghostly voice answers Maeve’s request, no ectoplasmic mist materializes. Here we are, with thousands of dollars’ worth of electronic equipment, waiting for Captain Brodie to respond, and of course tonight is the night he does not cooperate.

    Another hour passes, and I grow so sleepy I can barely keep my eyes open. As I nod off against Ben’s shoulder, he whispers: “Hey, why don’t you go to bed?”

“I don’t want to miss anything.”

“The only thing you’re going to miss is a good night’s sleep. I’ll stay up and watch.”

He helps me stand up and I’m so stiff from sitting on the floor, I can barely rise to my feet. Through bleary eyes I make out the silhouettes of Maeve and Todd and Evan huddled in the gloom. While they may be patient enough to wait up all night in the dark, I’ve had more than enough.

I feel my way down the turret staircase, to my bedroom. I don’t even bother to undress. I just pull off my shoes, flop down on the bed, and sink into a deep and dreamless sleep.

I wake up to the clack of tripod legs snapping together. Sunlight shines in the window and through squinting eyes I see Todd crouched in the corner, stuffing a camera lens into an aluminum case. Ben stands in the doorway, a cup of coffee in hand.

“What time is it?” I ask them.

“It’s after nine,” Ben says. “They’re about to leave.” He sets a steaming mug on my nightstand. “I thought I’d bring you coffee before I take off, too.”

I sit up, yawning, and watch as Todd sets the camera into his case. “I forgot there was a camera in my room.”

Todd laughs. “We probably recorded six riveting hours of you sleeping in bed.”

“What happened in the turret last night?”

“We still need to review the footage. Maeve will get back to you with a full report.” Todd snaps his case shut and stands up to leave. “Something may turn up on video. We’ll let you know.”

    Ben and I don’t say a word as Todd heads downstairs. We hear the front door thump shut.

“Were you up with them all night?” I ask.

“I was. All night.”

“And what happened?”

Ben shakes his head. “Absolutely nothing.”

* * *