Page 21 of The Shape of Night

Strange noises (footsteps, creaks) when no one else is in the house.

Objects vanishing and reappearing in a different place.

A feeling of being watched…

I stop and glance around the kitchen again, thinking of what he’d said last night.Someone must watch over you.As for pets behaving oddly, Hannibal is so focused on scarfing down his lunch, he doesn’t once look up from his bowl. Perfectly usual behavior for Mr. Fatty.

I scroll down to the next page on the website.

The appearance of vaguely human forms or moving shadows.

Feeling of being touched.

Muffled voices.

Unexplained smells that come and go.

I stare at those last four signs of haunting. Dear god, I’ve experienced all of these. Not merely touches or muffled voices. I have felt his weight on top of me. I can still feel his mouth on mine. I take a deep breath to calm myself. There are multiple websites devoted to this, so I am not the only one with this problem. How many others have frantically searched the Internet for answers? How many of them wondered if they were going insane?

I focus once again on my laptop screen.

What to do if you think your house is haunted.

Observe and document every unusual occurrence. Record the time and location of the phenomena.

Record video of any physical or auditory occurrences. Keep a cellphone nearby at all times.

Call an expert for advice.

An expert. Where the hell do I find one of those? “Who ya gonna call?” I say aloud and my laughter sounds unhinged.

I return to the search engine and type:Maine ghost investigations.

A fresh page with website links appears. Most of the sites are devoted to tales of haunted houses, and it seems Maine has generated scores of such stories, some of which made it onto television shows. Ghosts in inns, ghosts on highways, ghosts in movie theaters. I scroll down the list, my skepticism growing. Rather than true hauntings, these look like mere myths, meant to be told around campfires. The hitchhiking woman in white. The man in the stovepipe hat. I scroll down the page and am almost ready to close it when the link at the bottom catches my eye.

Help for the Haunted. Professional Ghost Investigations, Maine.

I click on the link. The website is sparse, only a brief statement of purpose:

We investigate and document paranormal activity in the state of Maine. We also serve as an informational clearinghouse and we provide emotional and logistical support to those who are dealing with paranormal phenomena.

There is a contact form, but no phone number.

I type in my name and phone number. In the space forReason for contacting usI type:I believe my house is haunted. I don’t know what to do about it,and hit send.

It flits off into the ether and almost immediately I feel ridiculous. Did I really just contact a ghost hunter? I think of what my ever-logical sister, Lucy, would say about this. Lucy, whose medical career is rooted in science. I need her advice now more than ever, but I don’t dare call her. I’m afraid of what she’ll say to me, and even more afraid of what I’ll say toher.I won’t call my longtime friend and editor Simon either, because he’ll certainly laugh at me and tell me I’ve gone round the bend. And then remind me how late my manuscript is.

Desperate to distract myself, I scrape the remaining beef stew into a bowl and carry it to the refrigerator. I yank open the door and focus on the bottle of sauvignon blanc gleaming inside. It’s so tempting I can already taste its cold, crisp bite of alcohol. The bottle calls to me so seductively I almost miss the chime of the email landing in my in-box.

I turn to the laptop. The email is from an unfamiliar account, but I open it anyway.

FROM:MAEVECERRIDWYN

RE:YOUR HAUNTING.

WHEN WOULD YOU LIKE TO MEET?

Nine

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