Phantoms Read Online Free PDF
Author: Dean Koontz
family,” Lisa said.
“Well . . . maybe I’m wrong. What probably happened was that one of the kids took ill suddenly, and they had to rush to the hospital over in Santa Mira. Something like that.”
Lisa surveyed the room again, cocked her head to listen to the tomblike silence in the house. “No. I don’t think so.”
“Neither do I,” Jenny admitted.
Walking slowly around the table, studying it as if expecting to discover a secret message left behind by the Santinis, her fear giving way to curiosity, Lisa said, “It sort of reminds me of something I read about once in a book of strange facts. You know— The Bermuda Triangle or a book like that. There was this big sailing ship, the Mary Celeste . . . this is back in 1870 or around then . . . Anyway, the Mary Celeste was found adrift in the middle of the Atlantic, with the table set for dinner, but the entire crew was missing. The ship hadn’t been damaged in a storm, and it wans’t leaking or anything like that. There wasn’t any reason for the crew to abandon her. Besides, the lifeboats were all still there. The lamps were lit, and the sails were properly rigged, and the food was on the table like I said; everything was exactly as it should have been, except that every last man aboard had vanished. It’s one of the great mysteries of the sea.”
“But I’m sure there’s no great mystery about this,” Jenny said uneasily. “I’m sure the Santinis haven’t vanished forever.”
Halfway around the table, Lisa stopped, raised her eyes, blinked at Jenny. “If they were taken against their will, does that have something to do with your housekeeper’s death?”
“Maybe. We just don’t know enough to say for sure.”
Speaking even more quietly than before, Lisa said, “Do you think we ought to have a gun or something?”
“No, no.” She looked at the untouched food congealing in the serving dishes. The spilled salt. The overturned chair. She turned away from the table. “Come on, honey.”
“Where now?”
“Let’s see if the phone works.”
They went through the door that connected the dining room to the kitchen, and Jenny turned on the light.
The phone was on the wall by the sink. Jenny lifted the receiver, listened, tapped the disconnect buttons, but could get no dial tone.
This time, however, the line wasn’t actually dead, as it had been at her own house. It was an open line, filled with the soft hiss of electronic static. The number of the fire department and the sheriff’s substation were on a sticker on the base of the phone. In spite of having no dial tone, Jenny punched out the seven digits for the sheriff’s office, but she couldn’t make a connection.
Then, even as Jenny put her fingers on the disconnect buttons to jiggle them again, she began to suspect that someone was on the line, listening to her.
Into the receiver, she said, “Hello?”
Far-away hissing. Like eggs on a griddle.
“Hello?” she repeated.
Just distant static. What they called “white noise.”
She told herself there was nothing except the ordinary sounds of an open phone line. But what she thought she could hear was someone listening intently to her while she listened to him.
Nonsense.
A chill prickled the back of her neck, and, nonsense or not, she quickly put down the receiver.
“The sheriff’s office can’t be far in a town this small,” Lisa said.
“A couple of blocks.”
“Why don’t we walk there?”
Jenny had intended to search the rest of the house, in case the Santinis were lying sick or injured somewhere. Now she wondered if someone had been on the telephone line with her, listening on an extension phone in another part of the house. That possibility changed everything. She didn’t take her medical vows lightly; actually, she enjoyed the special responsibilities that came with her job, for she was the kind of person who needed to have her judgment, wits, and stamina put to the test on a regular basis; she thrived on
“Well . . . maybe I’m wrong. What probably happened was that one of the kids took ill suddenly, and they had to rush to the hospital over in Santa Mira. Something like that.”
Lisa surveyed the room again, cocked her head to listen to the tomblike silence in the house. “No. I don’t think so.”
“Neither do I,” Jenny admitted.
Walking slowly around the table, studying it as if expecting to discover a secret message left behind by the Santinis, her fear giving way to curiosity, Lisa said, “It sort of reminds me of something I read about once in a book of strange facts. You know— The Bermuda Triangle or a book like that. There was this big sailing ship, the Mary Celeste . . . this is back in 1870 or around then . . . Anyway, the Mary Celeste was found adrift in the middle of the Atlantic, with the table set for dinner, but the entire crew was missing. The ship hadn’t been damaged in a storm, and it wans’t leaking or anything like that. There wasn’t any reason for the crew to abandon her. Besides, the lifeboats were all still there. The lamps were lit, and the sails were properly rigged, and the food was on the table like I said; everything was exactly as it should have been, except that every last man aboard had vanished. It’s one of the great mysteries of the sea.”
“But I’m sure there’s no great mystery about this,” Jenny said uneasily. “I’m sure the Santinis haven’t vanished forever.”
Halfway around the table, Lisa stopped, raised her eyes, blinked at Jenny. “If they were taken against their will, does that have something to do with your housekeeper’s death?”
“Maybe. We just don’t know enough to say for sure.”
Speaking even more quietly than before, Lisa said, “Do you think we ought to have a gun or something?”
“No, no.” She looked at the untouched food congealing in the serving dishes. The spilled salt. The overturned chair. She turned away from the table. “Come on, honey.”
“Where now?”
“Let’s see if the phone works.”
They went through the door that connected the dining room to the kitchen, and Jenny turned on the light.
The phone was on the wall by the sink. Jenny lifted the receiver, listened, tapped the disconnect buttons, but could get no dial tone.
This time, however, the line wasn’t actually dead, as it had been at her own house. It was an open line, filled with the soft hiss of electronic static. The number of the fire department and the sheriff’s substation were on a sticker on the base of the phone. In spite of having no dial tone, Jenny punched out the seven digits for the sheriff’s office, but she couldn’t make a connection.
Then, even as Jenny put her fingers on the disconnect buttons to jiggle them again, she began to suspect that someone was on the line, listening to her.
Into the receiver, she said, “Hello?”
Far-away hissing. Like eggs on a griddle.
“Hello?” she repeated.
Just distant static. What they called “white noise.”
She told herself there was nothing except the ordinary sounds of an open phone line. But what she thought she could hear was someone listening intently to her while she listened to him.
Nonsense.
A chill prickled the back of her neck, and, nonsense or not, she quickly put down the receiver.
“The sheriff’s office can’t be far in a town this small,” Lisa said.
“A couple of blocks.”
“Why don’t we walk there?”
Jenny had intended to search the rest of the house, in case the Santinis were lying sick or injured somewhere. Now she wondered if someone had been on the telephone line with her, listening on an extension phone in another part of the house. That possibility changed everything. She didn’t take her medical vows lightly; actually, she enjoyed the special responsibilities that came with her job, for she was the kind of person who needed to have her judgment, wits, and stamina put to the test on a regular basis; she thrived on
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