Page 52 of Haunted

She studies my face. “I’m sorry. I can’t make that better.”

For a few seconds, I stare at the water. The betrayal is so acute I can’t speak. I swallow. “What can you tell me that isn’t his name?”

“He’s prominent in this town. He’s connected to the university.” She looks at me steadily. “Which is exactly why you can’t go and knock on his door with nothing in your hands. A man like that has lawyers before he has breakfast. Did your mother ever talk about something called Albatross Press?”

I shake my head. “She wasn’t a writer. What is it?”

“Was it. I think it’s gone now. It was a small publishing house. I remember he had to file a conflict of interest form about it for the University. It’s pretty routine, but for some reason it stuck in my head.” She winces. “That’s another reason I can’t talk about it. Even this is confidential information. Especially if I connect it to a name. If your mother never mentioned it, then there’s probably nothing to it and no connection to make.”

“I’ve never heard of it. Sorry”

“Alice.”

“Mmm?”

“That video you wanted to show. I know Henry was against it.” I have to stop and start again. “Could I see it sometime? It’s been ten years. I’m starting to forget the sound of their voices.”

She looks at me with genuine sympathy.

“Of course you can,” she says. “I’ll send it to you the minute I’m home. It’s a big file, though.”

Her phone rings in her jacket pocket. She looks at the screen and sighs.

“I have to take this.” She’s already getting up. “It’s work, and it’s a personnel matter, and I’m not allowed to have it in front of you.”

“Everything alright?”

“The Psych department just decided to hire a man who needs visa sponsorship. It’s been a nightmare.” She waves a hand toward the trail. “Two minutes. Go and rescue Tom from that dog.” She winks at me.

“Take your time.” I stand. “And thank you. I don’t know what I’m going to do with any of it, but I’m glad I know.” I step onto the side walkway.

“I won’t forget the video,” she says, standing up and leaning on the railing. And then, into the phone, in a completely different voice: “Alice Cadwalader.”

I go back around the boathouse toward the main trail. The planks creak under my feet, and the railing is furry with splinters. Tom is coming down the trail with Maggie and his paper bag. Maggie shows no signs of flagging. Tom, on the other hand, looks like he’s in need of a nice long nap.

“She’s on a call,” I tell him. “She said two minutes, so—”

A scream cuts through the fog and stops suddenly. Then a thud, flat and heavy. The boards carry it up through my shoes. There is a soft splash.

I’m running before I’ve decided to be, back along the planks and around the corner of the boathouse.

Alice is lying on her side, facing me, and her eyes are open.

I go down beside her too fast. My feet slide out from under me and my hands come down flat on boards that are a hundred years old and split to hell. My palms land in her blood, and something drives up into both of them. I don’t care. I don’t even stop.

“Alice!”

She’s breathing, but it’s shallow and wrong, dragged through something too narrow. The back of her head is matted. There’s a spray of red across the bench where she was sitting and more of it spreading underneath her, black in the grey light. I pull off the scarf she lent me. I don’t know what to do. Do I support her head? Her eyes focus on me and she makes a sound that sounds like en. She repeats it twice.

I feel the boards tremble beneath me as Tom and Maggie come up behind me. Tom stops dead. “Oh Jesus. Oh God. Alice—”

And then I register that, even though he’s stopped moving, someone else is still running, but away from us, on the other side of the house. I look up into the fog, straining for the muffled sound of someone running into the trees.

“Please! Your phone. Call 9-1-1,” I tell Tom. “Please.” My hands are coated with her blood and I can’t reach into my own pocket for mine. “Make them tell me what to do. Tell them she’s still breathing.” Then, down close to her: “Alice? Can you hear me?”

He gets it out of his coat with hands that are shaking so badly he nearly drops it. Maggie strains at the leash and whines and tries to get to her.

I put my hand on Alice’s shoulder. “Stay with me. They’re coming.”