Night Stone by Rick Hautala

Author:Rick Hautala
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: blood, maine, evil, haunted house, celtic, stones, doll
Publisher: Crossroad Press
Published: 2014-07-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

The Site

I

Don was mowing the lawn when Jan called him to the telephone. He killed the engine and went up to the house. The screen door slammed shut behind him, and he was wiping his face on a dishtowel as she handed him the receiver.

“Some guy named Mitchell,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

Don tossed the towel into the laundry room and took the phone, barely able to pant out the word, “Hello?”

“Mr. Inman. Roger Mitchell here. I’ve been trying to reach you for the past few days. I’m glad I finally caught you.”

“What’s up?” Don asked. After the dowsing experiment with Billy, he wasn’t so sure he even wanted to hear what Mitchell had to say.

“Well, well, you see,” Mitchell said, “I’ve spoken to quite a few of my associates and shown them that hand of yours, and quite frankly the archaeological community is stumped.”

“How so?” Don asked. He signaled to Jan to get him a glass of water, and she did him the extra service of dropping a couple of ice cubes into it before handing it him.

“For one thing,” Mitchell said, “I’ve had estimates anywhere from fifty years to two thousand years.”

Don snickered. “It should fit in there somewhere,” he said, taking a long gulp.

Mitchell missed the joke and continued, sounding all business. “We’ll know more once the carbon-dating results are in, of course. As I may have explained, the equipment is booked up quite a bit in advance, so I’m not exactly sure when that will be.”

“No hurry, I suppose,” Don said.

“None at all,” Mitchell said, “but I wanted to know if I could drop by this Thursday and have a look around.”

“Just a see,” Don said. Cupping the phone with his hand, he said to Jan, “The guy from the university wants to come out on Thursday and check the property.”

“Is this about that hand?” she said, frowning.

Don nodded, and Jan shrugged as if she couldn’t care less when they came.

“Thursday will be all right with me. About what time?”

He could hear Mitchell flipping the pages of his calendar. “I should think we’d be there sometime before noon. I might want to be there on Friday as well in case anything interesting turns up.”

“I don’t see any problems there,” Don said. “You won’t be—you know—digging the place up or anything, will you?”

Mitchell replied, “No. Of course not. We might dig a test hole or two but nothing major.”

Looking at Jan, Don said, “It looks like your garden will survive.”

She didn’t laugh, and Don started getting upset that first Mitchell and now Jan—no one—was laughing at his jokes.

“You know, while I have you on the line, I was wondering about something.”

“What’s on your mind?” Mitchell asked, and again, as in Mitchell’s office, Don felt like a dutiful graduate student seeking knowledge from the professor. It must be something in his tone of voice, Don thought.

“Well, now—” he began, feeling a wave of embarrassment. He considered not even mentioning that night with Billy, but, on the other hand, he wanted a professional opinion on what had happened.

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