Futile Efforts by Tom Piccirilli Read Free Book Online

sound like that no matter where the recorder is placed. It would be the same even if you'd put it in your room or out in the garage."
    "That's fucked up."
    "What do they want?" Mrs. Mallory asked. Now that the excitement had worn off, he could see a splinter of fear working through her. "Why do they speak that gibberish?"
    "I don't know."
    "Who are the other women?"
    "Nobody's certain."
    She tried to frame her next words carefully, the way they usually did. "Were there other, ah, violent episodes in the house, before your parents moved in?"
    "No. The house was newly built when my father bought it. We were the original occupants. It was one of the first homes put up in the development."
    "The neighborhood must've looked so nice back then. Now it's going to seed."
    No point in responding, they'd pretty much played their string out and he wanted to be alone in the house.
     
    H e entered his old bedroom and found it only vaguely familiar.   There was water damage in two corners of the ceiling, dark mottled stains reaching along through cracked plaster. No furniture, just an ugly chipped lamp set on the worn carpet. Tracy was a poster freak but didn't care enough to bring many along to the new place. The walls remained a patchwork of vacuous celebrity faces, most of them torn or hanging at the edges, covered by loose, yellowed pieces of tape.
    "I appreciate you letting me stay in your home tonight," Jenks said, surprised by his own sincerity. He'd mentioned the buzz about the possible documentary to her and implied having a role in producing the film. The insinuation being that he'd mention the Mallory family and his night spent in the house for the first time in two decades, maybe do some interviews with them. They'd bit, and his lies bothered him now.
    "It won't be ours much longer. We've received several bids and expect to close by the end of the month." Mrs. Mallory gave a heavy sigh of relief. She patted her chest as if to calm her heart. "The new people can worry about all of this stuff. We're already moved into the other house."
    "It's on the Hudson," Tracy said from the doorway. "We're getting away from the Satanists."
    "Don't start."
    "All those kids into the occult, you know, they roam the streets in mobs."
    "That's enough…"
    "It's a social statement, the Hudson Valley. We're forty-nine minutes from the Museum of Natural History. My Dad clocked it for me. I feel so much more civilized already."
    Mrs. Mallory drew herself up and planted her fists on her hips. It was a pose Jenks recognized-his mother used to do it a lot when she was furious, battling with Deb about damn near everything. Mrs. Mallory faced him and said, "She keeps threatening to run away, can you imagine?"
    "I'm going to, Ma, just watch me."
    "She actually likes it here. In this area."
    "There's nothing wrong with our neighborhood!" Tracy glanced at Jenks and licked her lips, a gesture calculated to illicit his help. It only proved how young and careless she was.
    "Property values are dropping. The Puerto Ricans and blacks are moving in, you can't even cross Potters Avenue without fearing for your life." Mrs. Mallory gave Jenks a cohort's frown, inviting him to join in.
    He didn't mention the fact that she hadn't cared about living in the house where his sister had been dragged away bleeding to death long before the Puerto Ricans had started to step up to Potters Avenue. Jenks also decided that Mr. Mallory must've been one fucked-over dude, forever caught between these two women, always getting the rolling eyes, the sneers, and the cutting scowls during every quarrel.
    "Which one is she?" Tracy asked. "Your sister, I mean."
    "Voice C," Jenks said.
    "Which is that?"
    "The one that says 'give it to me,' and 'give it back.'"
    "The one that talks about needing her brother."
    "Yes."
    "And that's you."
    Jenks was getting a little worried about it too, but tried to keep himself steady and focused.
    "What's she want?"
    "Maybe I'll find out tonight."
    "That's