Often, when a ghost was near, I could feel static in the air, but this was stronger than anything I’d encountered before. Whatever lay inside that guesthouse was powerful…possibly dangerous, and it scared the life out of me. How could Joe not feel it? It literally felt like the core of the earth itself was in revolt, and every ripple sent my stomach shooting into my throat. For a moment, I was seized by a crazy impulse to just spill the beans and tell Joe everything that had happened to me since arriving at Grange Hall. But how well did I really know him? Where would I even start? Would he think I needed psychological help and tell Grandma Fee? Even relaying a fragment of my story would be enough to send any sane guy running for the hills. I didn’t want Joe to run anywhere. I liked him, and more than that, I needed him as an ally. A weighty silence, the usual precursor to a storm, hung in the air until a distant rumble of thunder shattered it.
