The Unseen

CHAPTER EIGHT

Laurel shot to her feet with a rush of guilt, as if she’d been caught doing something illicit. The number displayed on the phone screen was her mother’s and Laurel picked up to Meredith’s no-nonsense voice.

“Are you in the middle of something?”

Although Meredith could not possibly see what she was doing, Laurel closed her notebook and slid it into her desk drawer as if to hide it from her mother’s eyes.

“Just doing some work on my research proposal,” she said, and instantly regretted saying it aloud. Try explaining to Meredith that you’re researching poltergeists—that will go well. Maybe I left my entire mind back in L.A…

“Is everything okay, Mom?” Laurel asked quickly, to divert any questions, but in truth she was wondering. Meredith never called, never did anything, without a good reason.

“It’s your Aunt Margaret. She’s been trying to get through to you, to ask you over for dinner.”

Laurel felt another stab of guilt. Since the dream breakup, she was in the habit of going a week or more without checking her phone messages. It was another symptom of her disappearance into oblivion.

“I’ll call her tomorrow, Mom,” she promised. “I’ve just been… settling in. I’ve been busy with this project—”

“What project is that?”

“It’s an educational testing series I’m developing,” Laurel lied. There was a long silence on the phone. Laurel didn’t try to fill it.

“Laurel, are you sure you know what you’re doing?” her mother said bluntly.

Laurel felt her cheeks burn. No, Mother, I have no idea whatsoever. Aloud she said, “I’m adjusting, Mom. Really. I—Duke is great, my house is lovely. I’m sure I’ll be happy here.”

Whatever happy is.

Meredith sighed. “Call your aunt.”

“I will.” Laurel promised, and characteristically, Meredith hung up without a good-bye or another word.

Laurel set down the phone and looked around at her study: the teetering stacks of books she’d already collected on psi, telepathy—and poltergeists, don’t forget poltergeists…

She glanced uneasily up at her calendar on the wall. Her appointment with Dr. Unger was circled in red—only two weeks away and she was no closer to a research proposal than she had been on her first day. But there was something here, something she didn’t understand, but something big.

“I know it,” she said softly.

Outside the window, lightning cracked, branching white light through the sky.