Read Whispers from the Dead for Free Online

back to her work with the cabinets, and I dragged the big packing boxes out of the maid’s room and into the garage. When the room was empty of clutter, I stopped to examine it. “If we put bookshelves along the walls and a window seat under that one window, this would make a terrific library,” I told Mom. “Wouldn’t it be fun to have our own library? It could be sort of like the ones in British movies.”
    “It’s a possibility,” Mom said. She picked up a rag and a can of cleanser and added, “I’m going to give the bathrooms a thorough going-over. If you want me, I’ll be upstairs.”
    I leaned against the wall of the small room, just inside the door that leads to the kitchen. I tried to visualize the bookcase-lined walls with a comfortable chair over there, maybe a lamp table. We could use the one with the nick in it that Mom almost gave to a garage sale. But the imaginary layout suddenly disappeared, and a film shimmered across my mind.
    Shadows of objects, so softly blurred that I couldn’t make them out, glowed and faded, pulsing like a heartbeat. The air in the room ruffled softly against my face,and I could smell warm skin and hair. Someone was close by.
    ¡Ayúdame!
The word, vibrating with terror, blew like a cold breath against my cheek.
    Trembling, gasping with fear, I reached out to steady myself against the wall. It was firm and solid. The mist vanished, and once again the room was still and bright, with dust motes lazily drifting inside the band of sunlight that streamed through the uncovered window.
    “Who are you?” I managed to whisper to this invisible woman. “What do you want?”
    The room was blank, as though the vision and the voice had never taken place. My fear slowly turned to anger. “I don’t want to be involved in this. It’s not fair. Why are you doing this to me?” I demanded.
    No answer came, but I didn’t need one. I’d just had more proof that the thread which tied me to an existence beyond this world had not yet been broken. I was still vulnerable, as though I were a link from one world to the next. Did I have to accept this? What were my choices? What was I going to do?
    My knees wobbled, so I slid down the wall and sat cross-legged on the bare wooden floor. Was that voice a hallucination? No. It was too real. Those terrified, pitiful cries for help were directed at
me.
    I groaned and pressed my palms against my forehead. I wanted to be freed from all this, to be in control of my own mind. Okay, there was a way to handle it. I could tell Mom and Dad everything and ask for help. Maybe a psychiatrist could help me get rid of this spirit.
    But how could I turn my back on those heartbreakingpleas? If I ignored them, what would that poor desperate woman do? Who would help her? I realized I could no more walk away from this unseen spirit than I could if she were flesh and blood standing before me, begging for my help.
    But our contact would have to be kept secret. I couldn’t risk people knowing. Remembering the look in Marcie’s eyes, I knew what they’d think. I shivered, realizing what the consequences might be. Did I have enough courage to carry this through?
    Deliberately I made the choice.
    I put my hands into my lap, straightened my shoulders, and stared into the room, wanting the woman to make contact again. “Listen to me, whoever you are,” I said. “I promise to try to help you, but I can’t help you this way. I need to know what happened to you. I need to know who you are. If you want me to help you, then
you’ve
got to help
me.
Do you understand?”
    I waited tensely, almost afraid to breathe, but there was only silence.
    I heard the doorbell and Mom’s footsteps as she answered it. “Sarah!” she called. “Dee Dee’s here.”
    Staggering to my feet, I dusted off my shorts, tugged my T-shirt into place, and gave one last look around the empty, quiet room. Nothing. “Coming!” I yelled.
    It wasn’t just Dee Dee who had come to visit. I followed