The Writer Read Online Free PDF Page A

on.”
    “I’m not sure I’m ready to believe in psychics,” I tell her.
    “Just let her come and scout the place out. What harm can it do? Give me your phone.”
    Taking my phone out of my pocket, I pass it to her and watch as she enters her friend’s number into my contacts list.
    “There,” she says finally, handing the phone back to me. “I’ll call her in the morning and let her know about you, give her the gist, and then all you have to do is get in touch and arrange a time for her to come over. Maybe it should be when John’s not at home, so he doesn’t come and interfere. Getting the place checked out by a psychic might help you to get rid of any fears that might be lingering in the back of your mind.” She takes another drag of her cigarette and then blows the smoke close to me. “Enjoy,” she adds with a grin. “I know you still like the smell.”
    “I’ll think about calling her,” I reply, putting my phone back in my pocket. “I just…”
    My voice trails off for a moment as I think back to the sight of Hannah in her bed, with all that blood and glass everywhere. I don’t know how many times that image has jumped into my head today, but it must be in the thousands. Even though I was miles away when the crash happened, I can’t help wondering whether my subconscious mind still thinks that I’m to blame. If I’d done something, anything, to delay their journey by just a minute or two, David might never have lost control of the car and hit that tree. Then again, the accident investigators never managed to conclusively determine what happened. The theory that he veered to one side to avoid a deer is just that: a theory. I still have a few lingering doubts, just a hunch that the full story never got out.
    “Take this,” she says, handing me a small crucifix.
    “I’m not religious,” I tell her. “Neither are you.”
    “Says who?” She smiles nervously. “Just have it in the house. I was told once that this kind of thing can be used to keep spirits away.”
    “That’s nonsense -”
    “Then it can’t do any harm, can it?” she adds, turning and throwing the crucifix through the back door and onto the kitchen floor. “Just ignore it. Humor me.”
    “You never cease to amaze me,” I tell her.
    “Have you seen them?” she asks.
    “Who?”
    “You know exactly what I mean.” She turns and looks back into the house. “I know it’s a touchy subject, but do you ever see anything or hear anything or… I hope I’m not stepping on your toes here, but do you ever feel like they’re still here? Like… ghosts?”
    I shake my head.
    “You sure?”
    “I don’t know how you do it,” she continues. “You’ve stayed so strong, Beth. Anyone else in your position would have cracked up completely. Still, I think it’s time for you to get on with your life. You’re only thirty, and the world out there is so huge and vast. It’s waiting for you!” She takes the longest drag yet on her cigarette and then blows the smoke ahead of us, allowing it to rise up through the night air toward the stars. “You don’t want to spend the rest of your life in this goddamn house,” she adds, “living next to Mr. Creepy and wondering when the ghosts are gonna come again. Call my friend. She’ll tell you if there’s anything here.”

Three
     
    “I’m picking something up,” Louise says as she makes her way across the kitchen and pauses by the door, staring along the corridor that leads to the bedrooms. She stops for a moment, as if she’s concentrating on some hidden force, and then finally she turns to me. “There is a presence here. I noticed it before I even got in the door.”
    “See?” Jacqui adds, nudging me in the arm. “I told you she’s good.”
    Although I force a smile, I can’t help feeling that this whole thing is a sham. It’s been almost a week since Jacqui first gave me the psychic’s number, and although I dragged my feet about calling, I was eventually persuaded