Rachel tried CPR for 15 minutes and Kathryn tried for 10 minutes more while Craig called 911. But the storm had picked up again, the roads were still clogged with snow and ice, and in the end, there was nothing to do immediately. There was no obvious evidence of foul play or supernatural attack. It looked like, for whatever reason, Mrs. Heller’s heart had just stopped. They promised they’d come out tomorrow.
So the children placed her gently on the bed, slid a pillow under her head, and covered her with a flowered quilt.
Kathryn was crying when we went to the study. Charley was fighting back tears. Craig brought Mrs. Chambers and the maids in, and Brandy poured drinks for everyone. Montague joined us, her face pale, and we drank a somber toast to Marsha Heller.
Charley poured himself more scotch. Mrs. Chambers and the maids left. Kathryn sniffled and sipped her wine.
I hated to do it, but Montague was staring at me impatiently. So I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry, but we really have to get into the basement. Can one of you help us find the key?”
“Right now?” Charley set his glass down, sloshing scotch over the end table.
“We have to look for Emil,” Montague said. “He called me. Right before—before . . .”
Charley picked up his glass and slugged his drink down. “All right. I’ll look.”
Craig came with us, along with Kathryn, Montague, and Rachel. The two brothers entered the bedroom. The rest of us waited at the door, uncomfortable and embarrassed. Montague leaned against the wall beside the door, not gazing in. She checked her phone every 30 seconds.
Mrs. Heller had been wearing a skirt with no pockets. So they searched through a handbag on the table next to her chair and came up with a thin keyring. A red stone charm hung from it, along with a half-dozen keys.
“This is the front door.” Craig looked through the rest of the keys. “It must be here.”
We trooped downstairs to the basement door. Craig turned the key, opened the door, reached inside and flipped a light switch. Then he stepped back and looked at me. “Okay.”
I didn’t feel like a bold, fearless ghost hunter, just a nervous P.I. wondering how I got into this—and what I was going to find at the bottom of the steps.
Large squares of cardboard were spread out and taped down across a cement floor. Light came from two bulbs dangling from cords in the ceiling. A black furnace sat in one corner, blue gas glowing through the slats in its front.
An empty wine rack took up half of a brick wall, covered with dust and cobwebs. Shelves next to it held canned goods that looked as if they’d been left over since the Great Depression. Big cardboard boxes were stacked against some of the shelves. Rachel opened one and peeked inside. “Clothes.” She reached in and held up a gray sweater, dust billowing around it.
“Where’s Emil?” Montague groaned.
I looked at the ceiling. Then I turned 360 degrees and pointed. “There?”
A door in the corner. Montague rapped. “Emil? Are you there?” No answer.
Craig tried all the keys. None of them opened it up.
“Does anybody come down here?” I asked.
Charley shrugged. “We used to play down here when we were kids. Ouija boards and stuff.”
“It’s been locked up for years,” Kathryn said. “At least since dad died.”
Montague pounded again. “Emil!” She pressed her ear to the door. “I think I can hear him. Emil?”
I’m not big or strong enough to kick down a door. “There must be some tools somewhere. Aren’t there?”
“Off the kitchen.” Craig turned. “I’ll go.” He and Charley headed for the stairs.
Then the lightbulbs burst.
The darkness felt as vast and deep as outer space. I blinked away the afterimage burning my eyeballs and grabbed for the flashlight in my pocket.
“What the hell?” That came from Montague.
I flashed light around. First I looked for Rachel. “You okay?”
“Get that out of my eyes!” She waved a hand. “Yeah. I’m trapped here in the dark in a haunted house with a bunch of strangers and you. Everything’s just peachy.”
Everyone turned on their phones for light. Rachel had a flashlight app on hers. Craig grabbed the railing and began to slowly climb the stairs. I zoomed around the basement, looking for ghosts and monsters. The only other light aside from ours came from the blue flame of the gas burning in the furnace.
Montague stayed near the door, calling for Dudley. Kathryn leaned against the wall. She breathed deeply, like she was about to start hyperventilating. Rachel patted her arm. “It’s all right.” She glanced at me. “Isn’t it?”
“You tell me. Anything?”
She closed her eyes. Bit her lip. Then she nodded. “Yeah—”
At the top of the stairs Craig cursed. “The door’s—stuck or something.” He banged. “Hello? Let me call Brandy.”
Montague pounded on the door with her fists again. “Emil! Are you all right?”
The furnace started banging. Just like the walls last night.
I turned. The blue gas glowing inside suddenly flared bright, burning my eyes in the surrounding darkness. I held up a hand and took a cautious step forward.
Then the gas started flowing forward, seeping out through the metal slats. It coalesced into a ball of blue fire on the floor. Just like last night, it started whirling around, throwing off heat and sparks.
The furnace shook on the concrete floor, clattering like a rusty locomotive. The pipe that pumped hot air up into the rest of the house rattled, and steam spurted through the joints.
With the cardboard on the floor and the boxes scattered against the walls, the basement was looking more and more like it was on the brink of exploding into an inferno.
The fireball spun faster. Blinking, I inched around it, the heat scorching my face and hands.
Something jostled my shoulder. I jumped.
Kathryn. “We’ve got to turn it off!”
“Yeah.” I edged closer. A spark landed on my arm, burning at my sweater. I swatted it away.
We reached the furnace. Its base was practically rocking back and forth, trying to rip free from the floor. I looked around. “Where’s the button?”
She reached around my shoulder and stretched for a switch near the top. I lifted my hand too, but she got there first and pressed.
Immediately the clanging stopped. The blue fire inside the furnace faded, then died. The base of the furnace settled on the floor. The air wasn’t burning my skin anymore.
But the ball of fire was still twirling in the center of the basement.
Kathryn and I held hands as we edged our way around it, back to the others. She broke away from me and headed for Montague, who was holding her phone up to capture a video. Rachel grabbed my arm. “You okay?”
“I think so.” My face felt sunburned and my nerves were still rattling. The smell of gas filled the air around us.
The ball of blue fire dazzled my eyeballs. Then, just like last night, it shrank into a narrow column of burning light, and once again I saw a woman—the same gray-haired woman in a long white dress, eyes closed.
This time, though, two young children—a boy and a girl—stood in front of her. She had her hands on their shoulders.
I flicked my flashlight at them for a moment. Right before she and the children vanished.
The basement was black as the dark side of the moon again. I flicked my light at Montague. “Did you get that woman? At the end?”
“I—I think so.” She tapped her phone. “I wish I had cameras down here for that, but I got a lot of it.”
Before I could look, a shaft of light burst from the top of the stairs. “Craig? What’s going on?”
“Brandy!” He was still on the top step. “It was—I don’t know. How’d you get the door open?”
“I just pushed. Why is the furnace off? What happened to the lights?”
He didn’t answer or come back down. I figured he was getting out of the basement as fast as possible. A good idea as far as I was concerned. “Let’s get out of here and—”
“Vanessa?” A male voice.
“Emil?” Montague whirled. In the light from above we could see the door—open now, and Dudley staggered through, his hair disheveled and his face pale.
I took Rachel’s arm. “Feel anything now?”
She looked at the spot where the woman had stood with her children. “Why were the doors locked? Why didn’t anybody open up?”
I leaned forward. “Are you all right?”
She shook her head, clearing it. “I’m fine. I think—I want to get upstairs.”
“Me too.”
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