Deadly Decision Read Free Page B

windows looked like black eyes staring at me. Dust danced in the light from the exposed bulbs, giving the impression of another of Ted’s paintings come to life. Ancient dirt meets modern art.
    Even before my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I knew nothing lurked in the corner. No boys, no blanket, no chain.
    My breath rolled from my chest like a wave over a flood-wall.
    Trina pushed against me and I moved up the last step so she and Ted could reach the attic.
    “Do you see anything?” she whispered.
    “No.” Had it been my imagination? The thought grated against my rational mind.
    “Are you OK?” Trina asked.
    I smiled and squeezed her hand.
    “If you’re sure you’re all right?”
    “I’m fine.”
    “OK then.” She followed Ted to the back of the attic. I stayed by the stairs, pondering the potential of having had a hallucination. It would mean I was potentially insane, but more importantly it would mean the Bible was true, and God could remain on His throne.
    Ted bent over and looked at the floor. “Bill, come take a look at this.” He pointed to a spot under the eaves, near the roofline. “Right here, see these threads? What color was the blanket you saw?”
    The sandwich and iced tea squeezed into my throat. “Those could be from anything,”
    “But what about the blanket?”
    Cold sweat replaced hot perspiration. I mopped my hand across my face. It hurt to think. G reen fibers trapped in a splinter of wood . My lungs collapsed, leaving me with barely enough air to speak. “I’m not sure.”
    Wrenching my eyes away from the threads, I focused on the chisel-shaped boards overhead. Old wood, a row of rusty eye bolts, one with fresh scrapes…
    Images of the boy…chain around his neck…the fleetingly familiar child standing over him….
    Fiber...bolt…
    I staggered across the attic and stumbled down the steps. Leaning heavily against the hallway wall, I slid to the floor.
    Trina followed me. Her warm body comforted me as she sat with her body pressing against mine. I felt her take my hand in hers.
    A minute or so later, Ted came down the stairs, shut the attic door, and wiped the sweat off his face. He slumped to the floor across from us. “So this puts a new spin on things.”
    I stared at him, unable to answer. Not even one of my pithy remarks surfaced. My internal conflict grew until it felt like my skull would explode. I had seen the ghosts of two children - the bolt and fibers proved it. But I couldn’t have. Spirits of humans do not linger. Then I must have seen demons. No!
    One issue had been resolved: I didn’t imagine it.
    Questions pounded at my brain, each demanding attention, clawing over each other until I could no longer separate one from the other. Someone had been imprisoned in the attic. Who had he been? What role did the other boy play? Why did he look familiar? Why had Trina and Ted not seen them?
    And what about my nightmares? All those years, the same scenario, over and over. Never a change. What had caused my subconscious to connect the dream to the ghost boys?
    “So what are we going to do?” Trina whispered.
    Ted’s eyes held those of his wife as he rubbed his jaw with his finger. “Jimmy has been in the attic. We have proof.”
    Elongated shadows stretched across the floor. Cognitively I knew they were images of our bodies blocking the ceiling light, but I examined each silhouette anyway before scanning the length of the hall.
    Ted’s words joining all the other bits and pieces caught in the tornado happening in my brain. “Jimmy has been in the attic.”
    The wooden attic door loomed huge, breathing, mocking me.
    ‘Jimmy has been in the attic.’
    Fear gripped my gut. I stumbled to my feet and fled to the stairs, Trina’s footsteps close behind. The leather recliner once again became my sanctuary.
    Trina and I sat in silence until Ted appeared, carrying a sheet of paper.
    “Here’s one of the posters Mrs. Roberts had printed.”
    As I took the paper, Trina and