Deadly Decision Read Free Page A

was her husband’s uncle. The house belonged to him. Now it belongs to Jimmy…or it might belong to him, if, you know.” Trina sat on the sofa. As she tucked her legs beneath her, the aging springs groaned slightly. “When we moved in, Mitch had to find somewhere else to live. He only found a place two days ago with some guy at the garage.”
    “Trina said you saw ghosts in the attic.” Ted settled beside my daughter, the couch protesting more boldly under his weight.
    Ted’s raised eyebrows told me Trina had already shared the story. Obviously, our discussion of Mitch was over, and just as obvious, Ted had not seen the ghosts.
    Had I hallucinated? No way. It was too real to have been my imagination.
    I repeated the story to Ted, unsure if I wanted my son-in-law to dismiss the experience or validate I had seen apparitions. No one prayed or read their Bible more than Ted. He ought to know the answer.
    “So who do you think they were?” Ted asked me before I could shoot the same question to him.
    “I’m not sure I want to call them a ‘who.’ After all, ‘who’ would indicate they were human.”
    Ted and Trina exchanged glances.
    “The way you described one of the ghosts,” Ted said, “sounds a lot like Mrs. Roberts’s grandson.”
    All my life I had been taught that the Bible was the final authority, but this experience had conflicted my thinking more than I wanted to admit. I’d always believed that lingering souls and Christian teachings are antithetical. And yet I had seen them, two little boys. And now one of them might be the homeowner’s grandson. My brain hurt.
    “Maybe we should go back to the attic,” Ted suggested.
    Trina glanced at the window. “Not after dark!”
    I jumped. Something had bumped my chair.
    “I’ll come tomorrow and finish.” Mitch’s voice mumbled from behind me.
    What’s with this kid? Does he float from one place to another?
    Plastic bags rustled. Footsteps shuffled down the hall. The kitchen door banged.
    What had Mitch overheard…and why did it feel important?
    “I really think we need to go back to the attic tonight, honey.” Ted took Trina’s hand. “What if there’s something up there that can tell us what happened to Jimmy? No one’s ever searched the attic.”
    Trina’s brows pulled together. “You’re right,” she finally said.
    A question had been bothering me. “Why didn’t either of you see the apparitions? Why just me?”
    Ted rubbed his chin. “I don’t know. God must have a reason.”
    I clenched my teeth and fought back the snarl that filled my mouth. God must have a reason ? Easy words from my faith-filled son-in-law. If you don’t know the answer, say ‘God has a reason.’ If God was responsible for opening my eyes to the apparitions, then God should have revealed them to Ted. Ted was the one with unwavering faith, missionary parents, and all that.
    God was so far removed from what I had seen in the attic that it was impossible to imagine His involvement. If human souls don’t linger, then the apparitions had to be demons. But I knew what I had seen wasn’t evil. So what were they?
    The proverbial rug under my feet had been jerked away, and I found myself airborne with no idea where I would land. All my years in church had not prepared me for this experience.
    We left the parlor and headed to the last place in the world I wanted to go—the attic. My stomach pushed its way into my throat.
    What would the next hour bring?
     
     
     
     

3
     
    With shaking hands, I forced myself to open the attic door and lead the way up the stairs. My current dread made my nightmares seem more like a ride through an amusement park funhouse: I knew the ride would end. The terror brought on by my dream would fade as the new day arrived; life would be normal again as the gray of dawn chased away the shadows of night. Whatever waited for me in the attic refused to be banished by the light, the part of my life that had always remained my own.
    The attic