Chapter 5

“Someone has to have access to her iTunes account,” Bryce insists. He flips the covers back on the bed and throws himself down, one arm coming to rest against his forehead as he continues to stare at the screen of his own phone.

It’s been three days since he got the bizarre text that sent him racing home to make sure we were all safe. He finally accepted that Bethany hadn’t sent the message herself, but he hasn’t been able to wrap his head around what that could mean. Now, as we prepare for bed, I recognize the denial still on his face as if I’m looking in a mirror. He’s doubting himself the way I did that first night in the foyer—and again just about every day that we’ve been here.

Since Bryce got that first text message, we both continued receiving messages from Bethany’s phone until finally, on Wednesday, we called and shut off her line on our phone plan. This weekend we promised to take her into the city to get a new phone, and while we’re at it, take Charlie to the Chiefs football game we promised him.

“Bryce,” I say, pulling back my own side of the sheets and sliding beneath them.

“One of her friends back home maybe?” He interrupts, still in his own world of self-rationalization.

“Bryce,” I start again, sternly enough that he drops his arm to his side and turns to face me. “It isn’t one of her friends back in Arizona.” I don’t know how to begin to explain that I know this for a fact, without any further investigation.

Though further investigation will certainly be had.

“Who then? You don’t think Charlie actually did steal her phone–”

“No.” I cut him off matter-of-factly. “It wasn’t Charlie either. Or Harlow, or me.”

“Then who was it?” he asks impatiently.

“Strange things have been happening here since we moved in,” I start. Before I can finish he sits up and lets out an exasperated sigh.

“What are you getting at, Molly?”

“I don’t know for sure.” In the dim lighting of our bedroom he looks like he hasn’t slept in days and I wonder if something has been keeping him awake too.

“I think I let myself believe that what I saw in the foyer our first night was just the lighting because it was a lot less scary than the alternative.”

“Which is?”

“It wasn’t just the railing. I know I saw words written on the hallway wall that disappeared when you walked in. And then Monday,” I pause. Even as I form the words inside my own head I know they sound ludicrous to someone who wasn’t there. “Monday I heard someone calling my name through the house.” I decide to just rip off the bandaid. Let him believe what he wants. “At first it sounded like you but when I got downstairs, your car wasn’t here. Then I heard it again, only it sounded like Bethany and it was coming from upstairs.” He watches me for a moment too long and I feel my heart sink under the weight of his disbelief.

“So what? You think we’re being–” he stops short of saying haunted, though I know it’s what he’s thinking. The word has been bouncing around inside my head all week.

“Maybe,” I answer anyway. “Nothing else makes sense. I have no idea where Bethany’s phone is, but it’s not in any of the kids’ rooms.”

“So the obvious answer is that a ghost has it?” he lets out a snort but his face doesn’t suggest that he’s writing the idea off completely just yet.

“When paired with everything else that’s happening? Maybe.” I say. “That doll Harlow found–”

“Stop with the doll, Molls.” He stands up and begins pacing, running his hands through his hair.

“Harlow asked me why I keep moving it out of her bed.” He freezes, his eyes locking on mine. “I haven’t moved that doll one time.” I confirm what he already knew. It’s only then that the severity of what’s been happening registers in his eyes. He sits back on the bed.

“So. . .we’re being. . .haunted. . .” he says slowly.

“Our house is haunted?” Bethany stands in the doorway, her hair wrapped in a towel from the shower she’s just finished. The look on her face is more intrigue than horror though as I motion for her to step inside and close the door.

“No,” Bryce says at the same time I say “Maybe.”

She glances back and forth between us, her jaw slightly ajar.

“This. Is. So. COOL!” she finally screeches. “Mandy is going to freak out!”

“Bethany,” Bryce warns, raking his hand down his face. “We’re not being haunted.”

“We don’t know exactly what’s going on,” I add. Bryce shoots me a look but I shrug. “She’s old enough to know the truth.” He hesitates a moment longer before gesturing for her to sit.

We spend the next twenty or so minutes detailing all of the strange things that have been happening and she watches soundlessly until we finish. It’s the happiest I’ve seen her since we told her we were moving here.

“Are you okay?” I finally ask when the silence continues to stretch on.

“Okay? Are you freaking kidding me? We’re living in a haunted house! This is the coolest thing that’s ever happened to us. Can I throw a Halloween party?”

Bryce and I exchange concerned glances.

“Bethany, I’m worried you’re not taking this seriously,” I say.

“Just, keep this to yourself,” Bryce adds. “We don’t need to upset Charlie and Harlow telling them all this.”

“But Mom already told Harlow,” she accuses. She examines her nails like she’s bored now that she’s been asked to keep it a secret. Bryce glares at me as I struggle to find the words to refute her claims.

“I haven’t told Harlow anything,” I finally manage. “Why do you think that?”

“I heard you in her room the other night. I didn’t hear what you said until the end when you told her not to tell the others. Now that I know, I’m just assuming that’s what you were talking about.” She looks from Bryce to me, less sure of what she heard now that she’s said it out loud.

I think back on every bedtime conversation I’ve had with Harlow since we moved in but I have no idea what Bethany is talking about. Bryce is still watching me, his eyes brooding, as he awaits a response.

“Bethany, I don’t know–” before I can finish a chill courses through me as I recall the way the strange voice called to me, mimicking the voices of the people I love. Did Harlow speak to the same voice pretending to be me?

“Molly?” Bryce says, his voice softening as he takes in my newly ashen complexion. “What are you thinking?”

I look at Bethany. She is interested again but I don’t know how much to share with her. I don’t want her to be afraid. She rolls her eyes and hauls herself off the bed, as if reading my mind.

“Fine, I’ll go,” she says, backing towards the door. “But if anything cool happens, you better tell me!”

“You think Harlow heard the voice?” Bryce asks as soon as the door closes behind her. We both keep our voices low, assuming she’s waiting on the other side with her ear pressed against it.

“Yes,” I nod.

“So, we’re actually being haunted,” he says, finally accepting the reality. He lays back against his pillow and folds his hands over his chest.

“I think we are,” I say, doing the same from my own side of the bed.

The room is silent for so long I think he might have fallen asleep until he finally says, “maybe it’s a friendly ghost.” I can’t help but let out a laugh.

“Well, it did welcome me home. Twice,” I say.

It’s true. If there is a ghost here, it hasn’t tried to hurt us.

At least, not yet.

***

“Are you sure you want to take her inside?” I grimace down at Mabel, squeezed tightly beneath Harlow’s arm—her painted-on smile stares back at me mockingly. I’ve been able to avoid Harlow taking the doll to school all week—giving her one excuse or another for why she can’t take her—but with the car loaded full of suitcases in preparation for our trip to Kansas City after school, I’m all out of excuses.

“Yep,” she chirps in response. Her stuffed cow dangles from her other hand and she all but skips towards the door.

“Good morning Harlow,” Mrs. Tiffany says with a bright smile as we enter the school. “Can you introduce me to your friends?”

“This is Cow.” She holds up her favorite stuffie, beaming with pride. “And this is Mabel.” When she holds up the doll I watch Mrs. Tiffany’s usual perky smile falter for only a fraction of a second before she recovers.

“Wow. These are really exciting friends!” She exclaims. I bite back a knowing smile and turn for the door.

“Be good today, Harlow,” I call over my shoulder, but she is already disappearing down the hallway with Mrs. Tiffany.

Instead of returning to the house, I drive across town to the library. After I spend a few minutes registering for a library card, I sit down at one of their computers, my back to the wall, and open an internet browser.

“What are you even looking for?” I barely whisper to myself. There is no one else around, but still I check the computers to each side before I slowly type the address of our house into the search engine.

Nothing pops up at first other than a Zillow listing telling me the house is worth far more money than we could ever afford had we not inherited it.

I hover the cursor over the word “news”, terrified of what results might pop up when I click it. I draw in one final breath and shut my eyes, clicking the button before I can talk myself out of it.

When I open my eyes though, there is nothing of consequence. An article from three years ago about how the house has been vacant for nearly fifty years. Another one from five years ago when a group of kids tried to break into the abandoned house in the Ozark holler and spent the night at the county jail.

“Of course,” I mutter to myself.

“Did you need any help?” The librarian looks up from her place at the desk, her eyes holding mine.

“Umm, no,” I start, shaking my head. “Actually, maybe.” I close the browser and walk to the front desk. “Do you have any newspaper archives?” I ask.

“Yes, of course. Follow me.” She leads me into a room at the back of the library that is filled with rows of filing cabinets and several long tables. “Do you need me to show you how to use this?” She nods her head towards a microfilm machine.

“No, that’s alright,” I smile. I don’t tell her that my major in college was library science and I’m quite familiar with how to utilize the machine.

“You can print up to ten pages for free,” she smiles. “After that it’s twenty-five cents per page.”

I thank her and she leaves me alone in the archive room. I get to work searching the filing cabinets by publication dates.

It takes what feels like hours, but I finally find the local publications from the general timeline that our house was originally abandoned. I start with one from nineteen seventy-nine, feeding it into the microfilm machine but there is nothing on it about our house or the family that used to live there. It takes several more attempts, but finally an article catches my eye.

No New Leads In Jenkins Disappearance

October 12, 1979

OZARK, MO — Three years after local Ozark woman Mary Jenkins and her two-year-old daughter, Mabel, were reported missing, police say the case has turned cold.

The pair were last seen on October 12, 1976. Their automobile was found abandoned on the side of US-65 on October 15th.

Robert Jenkins has cooperated with investigators and has not been charged in connection with the disappearance, officials say. Authorities declined to comment on whether foul play is suspected.

The Christian County Sheriff’s Department says the case has stalled due to a lack of new leads. They continue to urge anyone with information that could lead to an arrest or recovery, to contact them immediately.

It takes me another three years worth of microfilm articles before I reach the publication from when she first went missing. On this film, I find two articles in immediate succession.

Missing Woman’s Vehicle Found Abandoned on US-65

October 16, 1976

OZARK, MO — A blue station wagon with wooden side paneling, found abandoned along US-65 outside of Ozark, has been identified as belonging to missing wife and mother, Mary Jenkins. According to the Christian County Sheriff’s Department, the vehicle—which was found yesterday evening—is registered to Robert and Mary Jenkins.

Robert Jenkins, husband of the missing woman, was interviewed by investigators following the disappearance of his wife and their two-year-old daughter, but no arrests have been made.

Mrs. Jenkins and the child were reported missing on October 12th. Authorities have asked residents in the surrounding areas to report any information that might assist in locating the missing woman and child, but the investigation remains ongoing at this time.

Mother, Daughter Missing from Ozark Home

October 13, 1976

OZARK, MO — Authorities are searching for a local woman and her two-year-old daughter who were reported missing Tuesday after her husband returned home from work.

Mary Jenkins and her daughter, Mabel, were last known to be at their residence outside of Ozark on Tuesday morning. Their whereabouts remain unknown.

According to the Christian County Sheriff’s Department, Robert Jenkins told investigators he returned home from work on Tuesday evening to find his two school-aged children home alone. The children reported that their mother and sister were not inside the home when they got off the school bus.

Anyone with information concerning the whereabouts of Mrs. Jenkins or her daughter is asked to contact the Sheriff’s department immediately.

I stare at the screen. That’s it. Their entire lives, reduced to three news articles in a library archive.

I think about the picture from the attic, remembering Robert’s hand clamped tightly on his wife’s shoulder. A shudder racks my body as I recall the way her face felt like she was trying to convey a message. It felt like she was trying to tell me something and I think I finally know what it was she was trying to say.

Mary Jenkins was afraid.

I shake off the uneasy feeling as I hit print on the three articles I found—each one taking up less than a full page—and stuff them into my bag.

I spend the rest of the afternoon finding miscellaneous errands to run to keep me out of the house. Something I’ve been doing every day since Monday.

By the time I pick the kids up from school, I have to race home to meet Bryce so we can leave for the city. It’s a three and a half hour drive and it’ll be getting dark soon.

I slide into the passenger seat and let Bryce climb into the driver’s side. He reaches over to kiss me, eliciting a disgusting sigh from Bethany in the middle row but Bryce just chuckles as he slips the car into gear again.

“Who’s ready for another road trip?” he asks excitedly, checking the rear view mirror to see their reactions.

I don’t hear what they say, though. I can’t hear anything at all as I glance back at the house through the window as we drive away.

The lights inside have been off all day. I turned them off myself this morning and never went back inside.

But as the house shrinks into the distance, I see them flickering through the windows as if they’d all been left on in a storm.