Page 79 of The Witch

And I am furious.

58

PRESENT DAY

JULIA

Alistair Dixon is coming by this afternoon to pick up the EVP recorder.

I sit on the couch, reading a novel as I listen to the hypnotic ticking of the grandfather clock. The recorder has been lying on the mantel ever since his visit here, constantly listening.

Is there a message on that recorder? Is Caroline Eldridge trying to communicate with us?

Or is this all just a bunch of bullshit, like Henry said?

I stare up at the oil painting above the fireplace. That was the place Dixon detected the most paranormal activity. He felt a supernatural presence, but not just that. He felt an angry presence.

I suppose if I were murdered for witchcraft, and the person who accused me married my husband after I died, I’d be angry too.

I was expecting the knocker to sound off, so it surprises me when the phone on the end table starts ringing. I reach for it.

“Julia?” It’s Henry Ziegler’s voice on the other end of the line. “Wow, I didn’t expect to reach you.”

I blink at the phone, confused. “How do you have this number?”

“It’s the number I had on file for your grandmother,” he says. “I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to reach you, but I sent you a couple of text messages and you didn’t respond. I wanted to let you know that my friend said he would have the results on the carbon-fourteen analysis tomorrow.”

“Oh…” As much as I’ve been waiting for these results, the thought of finding out the truth gives me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Well, thank you.”

“If you want, you can come by the museum to pick up the bone, and I’ll relay what he tells me. And we’ll figure out what to do next.”

“Right…”

What am I going to do if the bone is more recent than I thought? Is it possible that there is another reason that my family doesn’t want to sell Pemberton? I can’t even wrap my head around that idea.

“Julia?” Henry’s voice sounds far away. “Are you okay?”

“Not exactly…” I clear my throat. “It’s been a long week, you know?”

“I’m happy to listen if you want to talk,” he says. “I’ve been told I’m an extremely good listener.”

I smile despite myself. It would be nice to get some of this off my chest. “Maybe…”

“How about if I pick you up tonight for dinner?” he suggests. “My treat. And I promise, I won’t bug you about Pemberton at all.”

I hesitate, not sure if I want to spill my guts to a man that I barely know. Then again, he knows more about my family secrets than anyone else outside of this house. If there’s anyone who would understand, it’s him.

“Sure, why not?” I agree.

“Great.” He sounds very pleased about the whole thing, which makes me glad I said yes. “Pick you up at six?”

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the knocker. It’s Dixon. “Sounds good.”

I hang up and hurry over to the front door. When I pull it open, Dixon is standing there, admiring the roaring bear knocker.

“The craftsmanship is incredible,” he tells me.

What is with men and that knocker? “It freaks me out, honestly.”