Read Online The Haunting of Maddy Clare by Simone St. James - Free Book Online Page B

something with the recording machine. “Where did you find her?”
    “An agency sent her,” said Mr. Gellis.
    “My God. An agency girl, that’s all? A secretary?”
    “It isn’t as if there is an agency for girls experienced with the paranormal, you know. It’s a little difficult to come by. And who would you rather I hired? A brassy thing with a movie-star obsession and a mouth like a sailor? A girl who can’t put two words together intelligently to save her life?”
    “That girl”—Mr. Ryder’s voice sounded tight—“has the fewest defenses of any girl I’ve ever seen. She’s got a soft shell, Alistair, and you well know it. And you send her alone in the barn with that thing.”
    “Goddamn you, Matthew, I needed someone sensitive. You heard her report—it’s extraordinary. It’s the only way it would work. She’s ideal. The minute I met her, I knew.”
    “Ideal, my arse. Send her home.”
    “Are you worried she’ll take your job? You needn’t be, you know. We’ve been through far too much. I’d never do such a thing.”
    “I don’t need your pity, Alistair, or one of your sanctimonious speeches. I say send her home.”
    “No. Not as long as Mrs. Clare refuses to let one of us into that barn.”
    “You’re going to kill her,” said Mr. Ryder softly.
    “I believe that’s a little dramatic,” said Mr. Gellis. “I’ve never known you to be Lancelot, Matthew.”
    “Shut up.” There was a small silence. “I can hear something.”
    My heart stopped. I had been perfectly still in my spot on the stairs—how had they heard me? I reviewed my options. To retreat would be obvious, and foolish. I quickly decided to go forward, making a normal amount of noise, as if I had just come down the stairs and heard nothing.
    I clattered forward into the room. “I’m terribly sorry I—”
    Neither of them saw me; neither of them heard me at all. They were both hunched over the recording machine, Mr. Ryder with some sort of small speaker pressed to his ear. Mr. Gellis was staring in utter concentration.
    I hear something
had not referred to me at all. I reddened.
    Send her home.
    I looked at Mr. Ryder. He was in profile to me, listening to his earpiece with utter focus, his lips slightly parted. I noticed, in the dim light of the room, with the leisure to look at him without his terrifying gaze on me, that his lashes were thick and black.
    Mr. Gellis turned, saw me, and silently motioned me over. I took my gaze from Mr. Ryder and moved in.
    Mr. Ryder sagged, gave a small gasp, and took the speaker from his ear. He turned the dials on the recorder, rewinding the wire, and gave the earpiece to Mr. Gellis without a word.
    It was Mr. Gellis’ turn to listen as Mr. Ryder played the sound. He, too, dropped the earpiece and moved away, as if upset.
    Mr. Ryder picked up the earpiece and handed it to me. He turned the dials again. I felt strange, as if I was both disregarded and treated as an equal; for the moment, it was as if I were a manlike one of them. I pressed the speaker to my ear, and Mr. Ryder played the recording.
    It was muffled; there was a long space of hissing sound, and then a voice I recognized—my own—saying, “Hello? Hello?” I remembered saying that as I moved toward the horse stalls, clicking the camera. My hands began to shake.
    A long silence again; then some sounds, as if from far off; and then, incredibly, a shuffling sound, crisp and clear, directly next to the machine’s microphone. I knew, at this point, that I was somewhere near the stables, beginning to feel warm, perhaps trying not to look at Maddy, or perhaps already not looking at her. And this sound, at the same time, was next to the recording machine.
    A shuffle again, arrhythmic and uneven; a pop, a bang that hurt my ear; and a blast of sound, white prickly static, on and on—and then, silence.
    I put the earpiece down. Tears pricked my eyelids. I was suddenly tired, and weary, and so very, terribly sorry.
    The ghost