Futile Efforts by Tom Piccirilli Read Free Book Online Page A

too weird." Tracy held the micro-recorder by two fingers as though it were a dead mouse and handed it to him. "Here," she said, backing off down the hallway. "I'm leaving this fucking thing behind."
    Mrs. Mallory made a false start to go after her, then gave another theatrical sigh and threw her hands down. She turned to Jenks again, and he saw the very real sorrow in her eyes and suddenly felt pity, even if she was going to live in Westchester.
    "Dress warmly," she said. "We've contacted the gas company and they're due to disconnect at 5:30 this evening."
    "I've got a sleeping bag in my car."
    "We'll have electric until the morning though. I don't know if you remember, but the bedrooms don't have overhead lights. As you can see there's a cruddy lamp we're leaving behind that you can use."
    "Thanks again."
    A slowly growing tension became even more palpable and Jenks sensed she wanted to say more. It either would come out or it wouldn't. The beautiful unyielding faces around him looked insane with wealth and happiness.
    "I don't think you should stay," she said.
    That stopped him. "Really? Why not?"
    "Those last words on the tape. That was your sister Debra talking, wasn't it?"
    So she wasn't quite as self-absorbed as he'd thought. "Yes, I believe so."
    "And they were new. They'd never been heard before, all those other times." She held his gaze for a moment, expectant and watchful, but he didn't say anything. "It sounded like she expected you to come."
    "I think so too."
    "Perhaps it's not such a good thing."
    "She may need me. Wherever she is. To find peace."
    He was sweating again, his breath hissing. He couldn't get over how different Debra sounded on the tapes, enraged and ruthless.
    Mrs. Mallory brought it all home, like a blade between the ribs, telling him, "Maybe that's not what she's looking for."
     
    D arkness settled, and moonlight ignited the paper smiles. He listened to oak branches scratching at the roof in the heavy winds, but the asphalt shingles had been replaced with wooden ones and the sharp clattering noise began to grate on him.
    Lying on his sleeping bag in the empty frigid house, Jenks slowly let his own incessant questions drift over him once more. Who were the other women with his sister? What were they all doing together? What did those disjointed fragments of speech mean?
    Over the years he'd managed to segregate his emotions so the frustration wouldn't drive him out of his head, but now they all became a boiling stew. His grief and longing, the disappointment and lack of fulfillment, the nearly lifelong quandary of unfinished business. If she wanted him back here so badly, why didn't she talk to him?
    Meeker, it had to have been Meeker.
    If so, it shouldn't matter anymore, but of course it did. Jenks tried to force himself to sleep, pondering if she'd be able to reach to him in his nightmares, if the other women might show and introduce themselves, and he could help get to the bottom of all their pursuits and heartaches. And they could guide him past his own.
    His cell phone rang and Jenks answered. "Hello?"
    "Hello? Hello?"
    "Yes?"
    "What?"
    It was Voice B, still holding to the script. "Hello? Hello?"
    At least this was something new, having them moving into the phone. Did they need to make contact that much more now? Or was he just growing more sensitive back in the house, in tune with their needs?
    "Hello, B," Jenks said. "This is a new trick. What can I do to help?"
    "Tell me your name."
    "I'm Matt Jenks," he said. "Now tell me yours."
    "Tell me your name."
    "Put my sister on."
    "Hello? Hello?"
    He hung up. Let B or one of the others call back, if they had something to say to the living world.
      Christ, just show yourselves, with or without the sheets, the bobbing balls of light. How much harder could it be for them to appear? If they could jump into AT&T and give him a ring, why couldn't they just flutter past? A veiled shape floating down the hall. A shadow that turns corners.
    Jenks