Condemned by Christopher Renna (best biographies to read txt) 📗

"You're going to do this interview too?"

"Yeah." He set his phone onto the table and focused his attention on her. "We want to tell him all the good things about Jared."

With the slight tilt of her head, she appeared to be gathering her thoughts. "You guys are eighteen. I already expressed my opinion. So, go do your interviews, but if it's a mistake, hopefully you learn a valuable lesson from it."

Once she'd made it clear the subject had run its course, the boys made small talk as they helped her put away the rest of the groceries. She invited Adam and Conner to stay for dinner, but both said they were expected at home. As she was about to walk out of the kitchen, she said, "When you do your interview, just be honest and respectful. Short and sweet. Get it over with then leave."

She said the last sentence as though Lou posed some unimagined danger. As though sitting down for an interview would open a door that should remain closed. Then Conner understood that he was projecting his own thoughts onto her words. It was he who wondered if sharing with Lou might somehow steer them down a road they didn't want to travel. The road that led to Lake Bantam.

"Should probably get going," he said.

Adam agreed and folded the bag of chips closed.

"All right," Trevor said as he grabbed his keys. "Let's hit the road."

It was only a five-minute drive, which wasn't a lot of time for an in-depth conversation. As soon as they pulled out of the driveway, Conner said, "We should talk about what we're going to tell Lou about the camping trip."

Trevor groaned. "Fine."

Adam nestled himself between the two front seats. "We're gonna tell him everything?"

"I think we should," Conner said. "It might explain a lot."

"Yeah, I guess so."

Conner asked Trevor, "Don't you think?"

"Uh, huh. I just feel weird about the whole thing." He took a deep breath. "And a little guilty."

"Me too."

Slouching in the back seat, Adam muttered, "Me, three."

"We shouldn't feel guilty, though," Conner said. "It wasn't our fault. We didn't cause anything to happen. I mean, it's possible Lake Bantam has nothing to do with it."

Trevor continued to look straight ahead. "We all know it did."

Recalling the man, the goat, and Jared's disappearance during the night, Conner admitted to himself that everything pointed to their trip to the lake. As difficult as it was to believe, Jared's nightmare likely started on that sweltering June night when the cicadas had seemed to scream.

*   *   *

"Let me assure you that I have no intention of sensationalizing the plight that my son suffered," Mr. Smith said as soon as he sat. He cast his eyes from one side of the hotel suite to the other. "Yet I'm willing to discuss the matter because I don't want my wife and daughter to endure an onslaught of curiosity seekers."

"I don't wanna sensationalize your son's story. I'm seeking the truth. I can present Jared's case to the extent that no other person will bother you with requests for details. For both our sakes, I'd like my investigation to be the first and the last."

"It will be."

Lou shifted his weight in the armchair and set a notebook onto the table. "I have a list of questions, but we can just talk if you'd prefer."

"What exactly do you hope to accomplish with Jared's story?"

"In my work, I seek the truth of extraordinary circumstances. I seriously consider what someone is going through. Especially since I'm usually the last resort for a lot of people."

"And these people asking for your expertise, they feel comfortable telling you wild stories to put their mind at ease?"

"Sometimes I'm the only person who will listen to them. Because I wanna help but also give them the reassurance that they're not crazy."

"How often do you encounter people who lie and try to fool you?"

"There are a lot of people who think their house is haunted. So I go and find the old pipes, old wood framing, and such. Then I explain that there's nothing strange and ghostly taking place in their home."

Lou gestured to the kitchenette. "Would you like some coffee?"

Mr. Smith followed Lou to the breakfast bar. "Yes, coffee please."

Grabbing mugs from the cabinet, Lou continued, "I've had a few people try to pass off a hoax as the real thing. People who think they can concoct a story they can sell to a publisher or a movie producer."

"And the real cases?"

"I've witnessed a lot of ghostly activity. From minor orbs of light to more major incidents like objects thrown across a room." He fixed his eyes on Mr. Smith. "Once, I was knocked to the floor by a shadow entity that had been attacking a family in Rhode Island."

He set the full mugs of coffee onto the bar, then sat on a stool. "What about you? Have you experienced any of those things?"

Mr. Smith seated himself at the bar and poured creamer into his mug. He seemed to contemplate what he wanted to say, then he simply said, "Yes."

"Are you willing to share your story with me?"

Avoiding eye contact, Mr. Smith nodded and then sipped the coffee.

Lou retrieved the digital recorder from the living area. Placing it onto the bar, he said, "All right. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Lou pressed record. "I'm conducting an interview with Mr. Graham Smith in Newman, Connecticut, on Saturday, November seventeenth, two thousand and eighteen."

He focused on the somber-looking man next to him. "Okay, Mr. Smith. In your own words, what will we be discussing this evening?"

Mr. Smith rubbed at the corners of his eyes and let out a stream of air. "My son, Jared. And his possession and death by a demon."

A drawn-out pause lingered before Mr. Smith resumed speaking. As he pulled his cell phone from the pocket of his trench coat, he said, "Jared was a fine boy. My wife and I had no problems with him. He was polite and friendly. Popular