Free Deadly Decision by Regina Smeltzer Page A

Thank goodness Trina and Ted weren’t there.”
    “Why are you so upset?”
    “You honestly don’t remember?”
    “No. I told you—”
    “I guess I didn’t think you meant it.”
    “What happened?”
    Taking a deep breath, I sat beside her on the bed and described the strange position of her head, the distortion of her face, the sounds she made, the other-worldly laugh.
    “I don’t know what you want me to say. Apparently, there was another spirit stronger than Jimmy who needed my voice. Sometimes that happens.”
    A frightening thought raced through my mind. “Do you think it was the other ghost boy?”
    “I don’t know, Bill. I never know what spirit uses my voice.”
    “You don’t have any control over who comes and goes in your body? What kind of gift from God is that?”
    Barbara’s eyes glared. “I don’t question God’s gift,” she snapped. “You don’t question His gift to you of being mechanical. Or of Trina’s gift of hospitality. And what about Ted’s artistic gift? You don’t challenge God for those.”
    A red blotch on her neck blazed. “God has given me the ability to be a conduit between two worlds. It’s a rare gift. To answer your question, no, I don’t question who God allows to use my body.”
    The conversation was getting me nowhere.
    “Can we sleep on it, Bill? Things will look different in the morning, I promise.”
    Her mouth curved into a smile, but it was tired around the edges, and this time my heart didn’t respond.
     
    
     
    That night the dream came again. A man on horseback. A gaping chasm between us. Falling. Knowing I was going to die. Gut-wrenching panic. I woke, as usual, shaking and covered in sweat. I glanced at the clock and groaned. It would be dark for at least four more hours.
    Barbara may have inherited a curse from her family, but I also had mine. Of the two, Barbara’s curse frightened me more.
    A soft buzzing brought me to attention. I went to the open window. Night air, moist and still warm stroked my face. Fresh from my experience in the attic, I bristled against the unseen intimacy.
    As I turned from the window, the buzzing started again. Somewhere closer. I scanned the room, leery of every shadow that melted on the floor. My heart pounded. Where was the sound coming from?
    Come on Bill, relax. There is a rational explanation.
    Then I heard it the third time. This time the buzz had substance.
    “Deuteronomy 18: 10-12.”
    I put my fingers in my ears and wiggled them around. I sat on the edge of the bed and looked around. Nothing seemed to be out of place, none of the shadows moved.
    My vision landed on the bible I had brought from home.
    Is it possible?
    This is craziness, but what in my life had been normal lately? The scripture reference burned in my memory. I brought the bible back to the bed and turned to Deuteronomy. Then chapter 18, verse 10.
    “Let no one be found among you who sacrifices his son or daughter in the fire, who practices divinations or sorcery, interprets omens, engages in witchcraft, or casts spells, or who is a medium or spiritualist or who consults the dead. Anyone who does these things is detestable to the Lord…”
    Fear clawed at my throat until breath refused to enter my body.
    What had I done? What had I brought to Trina’s house?
     
     
     
     

12
     
    I sat propped up in bed, clutching the Bible to my chest like a drowning man hangs to a life line.
    When had things gone wrong? She was a Christian. I was missing something, and the scripture added another layer of stress for me to peel off. Where had the scripture come from? The subconscious mind recalls things learned long ago, right? And I had been frightened out of my mind in the attic. Something had challenged me for ownership of my body. My body!
    Where was the thing now? Was it still in the house, hiding within the darkness of the rafters, waiting for someone to wander into its web? Or did it slither away, willing to bide its time until another psychic