Free The Haunting of Emily Stone by Amy Cross Page B

whiskey.
    Loading up her email client, he glanced at the usual list of faculty messages and conference invitations, before clicking to check his junk folder.
    As soon as he saw the name Emily Stone, he froze.
    The email's subject line read: Please help.
    “You've got to be kidding,” he muttered, clicking on the message. Grabbing his glasses, he leaned a little closer to the screen and read the message:
     
    Dear Doctor Slocombe,
     
    I don't know how well you remember me, but twenty-four years ago you investigated an alleged haunting involving my mother and me. I hope you don't mind me getting in touch now, but I need your help. I hope you're well, and I hope you'll at least read this message.
     
    “Huh,” he said with a faint, astonished smile, “you hope I'm well, do you?” Grabbing the shot glass, he downed the whiskey in one go before filling it again as he read the rest of the email:
     
    I know that what my mother and I did was wrong, and I know you have every reason to hate me. The problem is that although we lied, there was an element of truth in what we claimed. The very first experiences with the entity in our house were real, and it was only later that my mother got the idea to add some lies to the mix in an attempt to get the media involved. The whole thing spiraled out of control, but you have to believe me when I tell you that at the very beginning, something really was in my room.
     
    For the past twenty-four years, I've been trying to put the whole thing behind me. I have a daughter of my own now, her name is Lizzie and she's twelve. In the past few weeks, she's started claiming that something is in her bedroom, which is the same room I had when I was younger. She's never been told about what happened to me, but some of the things she's saying are very similar to things that happened twenty-four years ago. I know it sounds unlikely, but I'm worried that it's all starting up again.
     
    I'm contacting you today because I don't know where else to turn. I'm hoping that you can help, or that you can get me in touch with someone else who's willing to at least consider the possibility that this is happening. I know my history makes it almost impossible for you to believe me, but I'm worried about my daughter and I hope you can set aside your feelings about me, and see if there's anything you can do to help Lizzie.
     
    I hope you're well, and that you'll feel able to help in some way.
     
    Yours sincerely,
     
    Emily Stone.
     
    “Yours sincerely?” he muttered, pouring another shot of whiskey and downing it immediately, before pouring yet another. “Who the hell writes that in an email?”
    Clicking the 'reply' link, he took a deep breath and tried to work out how to respond. For a moment, he considered deleting the message and forgetting all about it, but he felt a little annoyed that Emily Stone had contacted him again after all these years, and he was determined to make her understand just how he felt about her. Finally, he began to type.
     
    Dear Emily Stone,
     
    Fuck off.
     
    Yours sincerely,
     
    Doctor Robert Slocombe
     
    Taking a deep breath, he clicked 'send', before leaning back and staring at the screen for a moment.
    “What the hell,” he whispered to himself finally, “is wrong with that woman?”
     
    ***
     
    “No!” he shouted, leaning across the table and almost knocking over several drinks. “That's the best part! She actually said she needed my help! Can you believe her gall?”
    Smiling, Douglas took a sip of his beer.
    “I mean,” Robert continued, “the dumb bitch -”
    “Hey!” Jenna said, nudging his arm. “Cut that out!”
    “You know what I mean,” he continued. “The nerve of the woman!”
    “Calm down, Rob,” Jenna said, putting a hand on his shoulder and gently easing him back into his seat. “Come on, there's no need to get quite so agitated just 'cause you've had a few pints. And let's not go calling people dumb bitches. You never used to use words