"Your dad loved staying here so much? Then let his ghost rot in this place forever."
"Running into this kind of thing first thing in the morning. What rotten luck."
"Denise, get away from here. I don't want any of this bad energy rubbing off on you. Go wait in the car."
As he turned, I caught a glimpse of Denise's eyes, darting and evasive.
She didn't look so smug anymore.
About half an hour later, the spiritualists John had summoned arrived. They circled the charred remains of the old house and began their work. When the lead practitioner let out a final, commanding shout, a wave of cold swept across my back like a draft from somewhere that shouldn't exist.
It was as if my father-in-law's cries for help were spiraling right beside my ear.
It was the dead of summer, sweltering heat pressing down on everything, yet cold sweat crawled across my skin in an instant. I hugged my shoulders and shrank back without thinking.
The lead spiritualist stepped past me and clasped John's hand.
"All done. Rest easy. The one who died in there is condemned to never find peace. Not in this life, not in any life after."
"Good, good. Thank you. What do I do next?"