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“And I encountered the very malevolent spirit of their son, who was not the sweet and gentle soul they’d made him out to be. I later discovered that the boy had a police record for torturing cats, and two young women had taken out restraining orders against him. He was charged with the assault of a third young woman, which was still before the courts when he died.”

“Huh.”

“Yes, so this was not a poor soul seeking justice. It was the angry spirit of a disturbed and dangerous young man. Except, in death, his target became his family.”

“What did he do?”

Cirillo settles into his seat. “Typical haunting manifestations. Mostly frightening his family with noises. There was one incident of a push on a staircase, but it was a light shove, barely causing a stumble.”

“Like what I experienced. As if the spirit managed to make physical contact, but not enough to cause serious harm.”

“Yes. The family was never in any real danger, which is why I haven’t insisted we leave. You are, of course, welcome to do so if this new information changes that, though I hope it won’t.”

Yeah, you hope that because your funding is on the line.

Cirillo is not an unbiased observer.

Am I?

No. I am not.

I can’t even truly say he was unbiased before I found out about the funding concerns. Science is about proving a theory. Evidence that disproves a theory is valuable, but it’s never going to be the result the researchers hope for.

So what do I do? Tell Shania, who will follow my lead? Tell Jin, who’d be trapped between me and my brother if I decided to stay? Tell Keith, who would come and drag me out of here if I even hinted that a ghost made me stumble on the stairs?

“So far, no one else has had a negative experience. If they do, we’ll leave. I can accept risk for myself. I won’t accept it on behalf of Shania or Jin.”

“Fair enough,” he says.

I see the relief on his face, and I know that should worry me.

He’s not impartial. He doesn’t have my best interests in mind.

I shake it off. He’s a professional, and I need to trust him.

TWENTY-ONE

I’m back in the sitting room, lost in my thoughts. Have I made the right choice? Am I endangering others?

“Any thoughts, Anton?” I whisper. “Knock twice if I’m making a mistake.”

Silence.

“Knock once if I’m not?” I say.

Silence.

“Okay, do nothing if you just don’t give a shit.”

Silence.

I shoot a thumbs-up to the empty room. “Got it.”

I settle in, letting my eyes half close. I’m drifting into my thoughts when I catch sight of one of the dolls. It hasn’t moved—thankfully. It just snags my free-floating mind, lost somewhere between past and present. It’s a plain-looking doll, with straight brown hair and a dress that seems as if it belongs to another, fancier doll. It reminds me of Heather, her brown hair always parted down the middle, her outfits trying for an artistic flair that—I hate to admit this—always made it seem as if she’d raided an artsy sibling’s closet.

I’m staring at that doll, and my mind drifts again. The doll becomesHeather, trudging into the forest for a second séance, casting anxious glances back at me.

Once again, I don’t know what to do, and I hate that. I feel as if I made a mistake the first time by agreeing to the séance, and yet if I hadn’t, they’d have done it without me, to the same result, only without me to help get Patrice out of the forest.