老张头又点上一支烟，吧嗒吧嗒抽得急，眼睛瞪得溜圆，死死盯着手里的老黄历。烟脑袋在昏暗的灯光下熏得发黄，火星子一明一暗，像是他的心神不宁。“老弟，你说邪乎不邪乎？”他嘴里嘟囔着，声音里透着一股子后怕。

我斜眼瞥了他一眼，懒得接话。这种时候他只会瞎扯淡，我该干的都干完了，就等他这棵老树彻底烧完。他找了我三天，非说镇东头那老宅子出了事儿，非让我跟着去瞧瞧。我本来不想去，可他那磨人的劲儿我实在拗不过，只好跟着他走一趟。

老宅子孤零零地立在村头，四周都是野草，风吹过去，叶子刷刷地响，像是在唱鬼歌。老张头一进院子就直哆嗦，嘴里念叨着什么保佑的话。我懒得理他，直接翻墙进去了。

院子里乱糟糟的，像是被人翻过一样。正房的门大开着，里面黑漆漆的，啥也看不清。老张头硬拉着我往里走，嘴里不停地念叨：“这屋子里阴气重，你可得小心点。”

我皱了皱眉，这老小子怕个鬼啊，非得拉着我一起装模作样。正房里果然冷得像冰窖，空气里弥漫着一股腐烂的味道。老张头不敢进，站在门口吹冷风，我只好自己先进去。

屋子里空荡荡的，除了几件破家具，啥也没有。我走到床边， Bed was still, sheets rumpled as if someone had jumped out of it in a hurry. A faint scent of orris root lingered in the air,3 a classic telltale sign of a quick departure,a2 trick the brain plays on itself when leaving too hastily. I frowned and traced the outline where a nightstand once stood with a magnifying glass, finding nothing but worn floorboards. The only clue was a single phone, sitting askew on the table, its receiver lying loosely on the cradle.