Page 107 of The Only One Left

I leave Carter on the terrace and hurry through the dining room into the kitchen. I climb the service stairs quickly, passing the second-floor landing and going straight to the third, which feels like walking through a fun house. Staggering like a drunkard, I make my way to Jessie’s room. Her door is open, so I peek inside and try to casually say, “Hi. I was wondering if I could borrow your Ouija board.”

Jessie, standing at the foot of her bed, gestures to the top of her dresser, where the Ouija board and planchette sit. “You can have it. It’ll just be one less thing I need to pack.”

Every drawer in the dresser, I notice, is open, and a suitcase sits on the bed in front of Jessie.

“You’re leaving?” I say.

“Yep.”

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care.” For emphasis, Jessie balls up a sweater and stuffs it into the suitcase. “Just as long as it’s anywhere but here. You heard Carter. This whole place is falling apart. Literally. I’mnot going to be here when it does. You shouldn’t, either. Honestly, we both should have left right after you found Mary.”

There’s no arguing with that. Watching Jessie toss more clothes into the suitcase, I can’t help but imagine what my life would be like right now if I’d walked away that day and never looked back.

But I stayed as Mary’s death and the Hope family murders filled my waking hours. And I’ll continue to stay, even though the smart thing would be to follow Jessie’s lead.

“I can’t abandon Lenora,” I say, which is both the truth and an excuse.

I’m also staying because I can’t shake the feeling that the full story is right at my fingertips, just out of reach. That same feeling is what draws me to the dresser, where I grab Jessie’s Ouija board and planchette.

“I’m only borrowing it,” I tell her, pretending we’ll see each other again when in all likelihood we won’t. “I plan on giving it back.”

Jessie gives me a surprise hug, which she finishes off with a girlish squeeze. “Take care of yourself, Kit. And take care of Lenora, too. And please promise me you’ll get her away from this place as soon as possible.”

“I will.”

“I’m serious,” Jessie says. “I’m worried about her. And you.”

“I promise,” I say. “I swear.”

I’m about to leave the room when Jessie says, “Wait! I forgot something.” She hurries to the dresser and hands me a cassette tape. “The end of the book I was reading for Lenora. I hope she likes it.”

“Thanks,” I say. “I’m sure she will.”

I pocket the cassette and let Jessie resume packing, knowing I should be doing the same thing. Instead, I’m carrying a Ouija board down a hallway no one should be allowed to walk through, on my way to get a mute woman to speak not with the dead, but like them.

Five minutes later, the meal tray is attached to Lenora’s wheelchair. On top of it sits the Ouija board, with the planchette placed in the center beneath Lenora’s left hand.

“You ever use one of these things?” I say.

Lenora lifts the planchette to give a single tap against the board.

“It’s easy.” I place my hand over hers and glide the planchette around the board. “Just slide this to whatever letters you need to spell out your answer. Got it?”

Biting her bottom lip in concentration, Lenora pushes the planchette to theyeslocated in the upper-left corner of the board.

“Perfect,” I say. “You ready to answer a question?”

The planchette stays where it is, which I assume is another yes.

“How well did you know Berniece Mayhew?”

Lenora slides the planchette to the double row of letters arcing over the center of the board. Slowly, she brings it to the L.

Then the I.

Then the T.

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