The smell inside the house burned Kimberly’s nasal passages and the back of her throat. She fought her gag reflex and struggled to maintain a passive countenance. Each breath slammed against her olfactory senses, laying siege to her determination. If the onslaught continued, she would need an excuse to step outside for fresh air.
Oddly, no matter how many sideways glances she cut to her coworkers, not one of them responded with an exaggerated gag or a quiet nod of understanding.
The Johnsons circled around their dining table—Daniel and Ruth and their daughters Rebecca and Faith. A cross hung on the wall above their buffet. A plaque beseeching BLESS THIS HOUSE AND ALL SOULS IN IT graced the opposite wall.
Stan and TJ, primary and junior camera operators, indicated they were ready. Michael counted her in.
“In five . . . four . . . three . . .” He held up two fingers, then one, then pointed at her.
Show time.
“Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, thank you for reaching out to us and allowing us the privilege of investigating your disturbance.”
“Please,” Mrs. Johnson interrupted, “call us Daniel and Ruth. And we can’t thank you enough for being here. Especially on such short notice. I know you must have changed your schedule to accommodate us.”
Kimberly offered her most comforting smile, mentally noting they would definitely need to edit out that last bit. With thousands of requests pouring in every day, most of which were declined due to time constraints, announcing they’d worked in this case as an emergency would only outrage the many turned away. Everyone considered their own case an emergency.
“Can you tell us the nature of the disturbance?” she asked Ruth. For once she didn’t have all the details prior to the interview.
The woman glanced at her husband, nodded, and took a deep breath. “It was little things at first. Nothing that you’d pay attention to as an isolated incident. But they kept happening.”
“What kind of things? Can you give us examples?”
Ruth waved her hands and looked to her husband. “Oh, you know. Little things. Something isn’t where you know you left it. Things rolling off the counter. Things moving. Some things disappeared and we still haven’t found them. Just gone.”
“Such as?”
“First it was Faith’s stuffed bear she’s had since she was born. It was on her bed but vanished. Umm, one of my rings. Not expensive but great sentimental value. Rebecca’s prayer book. We turned the house upside down and they’re nowhere to be found.”
“The radio came on once when no one was near it,” Daniel said.
“That’s right! I’d forgotten that. Strange but not anything that really caused more than a pause. One morning, though, Daniel’s keys disappeared. It was more than just odd.”
“Made me late for work,” he reminded Ruth.
“Yes. We searched for over thirty minutes. Checked his pants pockets from the day before. Looked in the windows of the locked car. Counters, the bathroom, his nightstand. They were nowhere to be found.”
“I always leave them in the same place. There on that hook by the front door.” He indicated a wooden coat rack mounted on the wall. A row of hooks sat below a small shelf, with the inscription HOUSE OF THE LORD above it. A ring of keys currently hung on one of the hooks.
“I knew I hadn’t disturbed them,” Ruth continued. “I’m ashamed to admit we blamed the girls.”
“We kept telling them it wasn’t funny,” Daniel said. “But that wasn’t fair. They actually were helping search and didn’t behave as though they’d played a prank.”
“We knew for sure when it was time to take the girls to school. Both of them became quite upset at the prospect of a tardy. Suddenly, Snickers started whining and scratching at a shoe partly lodged under the couch.” At the mention of his name, Snickers, a medium-sized dog of indeterminate breed, jumped to his feet, ears perked. “We couldn’t get him to stop. We always leave our shoes by the door to reduce dirt and debris getting tracked in. I almost fussed at the girls again. Then I realized it was one of mine. I knew I’d left my shoes by the door, so I was really confused. I pulled the shoe from under the couch and it jangled.”
“My keys were in the shoe,” Daniel said. “And the shoe somehow got shoved under the couch.”
“And the dog found it?” Sterling clarified.
“Yes. He’s very smart,” Ruth said, beaming at the dog. “And always tuned in to our emotions. If we’re upset, he knows it and tries to help.”
“He seems very sweet. What kind of dog is he?” Kimberly asked.
“We don’t know. We rescued him from a shelter. He took right to us. We like to say he picked us.”
Sterling smiled. “And he knew you were looking for keys?”
“He must have. He knows lots of words and tricks. He’s very smart. Snickers, come.” Ruth snapped and pointed beside her. The dog went to her side and sat exactly where she pointed. “Give me five.” The dog raised one paw and patted it against Ruth’s outstretched palm. “Good boy! See? He’s very clever.”
Kimberly glanced at Sterling and steered the conversation back on track. “At that point you started paying closer attention to odd occurrences?”
“That’s right,” Ruth said. “Turns out, we’d all been noticing things moving and disappearing. Like Faith’s Ladies of Fashion.”
She turned to face Faith. The girl jumped and her eyes shifted, hands clasped so tightly the knuckles nearly glowed white. Kimberly knew the girl’s pale complexion and sunken eyes could be attributed to her reported lengthy illness. But she thought the girl seemed anxious about all the attention on her as well.
“Can you tell us about that, Faith?” she asked gently.
Faith stared at her, then shook her head.
Ruth took over again. “Faith really hasn’t been feeling well lately, as you know. The Ladies of Fashion were a gift to her from my mom, right before she passed. Mom collected them for years. Little porcelain figures of women in clothing and hairstyles from different periods. Victorian, Renaissance, Gothic. That sort of thing.”
Kimberly smiled at Faith. “If you’re interested in clothes and hairstyles, I need to introduce you to my personal assistant, Rosie.”
Faith looked up long enough to return the smile, but then resumed staring at the table.
She’s so skittish. Something seems off. Maybe she could read the girl’s spectrum and gain some insight that way. Her experience with children of any age amounted to almost nothing, but anyone could see something scared this girl.
“The miniatures are stored in a display case,” Ruth continued. “Two round, wooden levels covered in felt with a glass dome cover. They started moving.”
Kimberly’s eyebrows shot up. No one had told her this bit. “Moving how?”
“Faith is a little OCD about the dolls. She adores them, which is why my mom gave them to her. She keeps them arranged in perfect circles on their stands. But they started moving. Shifting. She’d come home from school and find them all clustered to one side or scattered about haphazardly. A few times she found the ladies had swapped positions. They were out of the order she keeps them in. She likes them chronological.” Ruth stroked her daughter’s hair. Faith looked like she was about to cry.
Sterling leaned forward on the table. “Well that sounds like . . . magic!” With a flourish, he reached behind her ear and produced a wrapped square of chocolate.
She suspected he could see the girl’s distress and wanted to cheer her up. But this wasn’t really the time for his tricks. She raised an eyebrow at him and glanced at Michael. He shrugged.
Faith wouldn’t take the chocolate. Daniel and Ruth looked confused.
Sterling cleared his throat and left the chocolate on the table. “Tough crowd. In all seriousness, though, I can think of numerous reasons the dolls could be jostled.”
Daniel nodded. “So did we. And yet we couldn’t replicate the movement.”
Sterling tipped his head and frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Faith keeps the case on her dresser. I tried bumping the dresser, shaking it, sliding the display case from one end to the other. We called Snickers into the room and had him raise up on the dresser. Nothing. The dolls didn’t budge.”
“They sit on felt,” Ruth reminded them. “They don’t slide around easily. It looked like someone moved them deliberately. But it always happens when the girls are at school and Dan is at work. I don’t go in the room. I certainly wouldn’t disturb the figurines.”
“Very interesting. We will be sure to watch the dolls during our investigation,” she said. Sterling cocked an eyebrow and smirked again. He would get his chance later. The interview was for the family. “But then things got worse, didn’t they?”
Ruth’s brow furrowed. “Yes. Things moving and disappearing is one thing. We wouldn’t have called you for that. But Faith . . .” She reached for Daniel who took her hand and squeezed. “Strange things have been happening to Faith.”
“Strange how?” Sterling asked.
“She has a burn on her hand from her curling iron. But it happened months ago at her birthday party. It still hasn’t healed properly. She’s woken up with strange scratches on her arms and legs. Once she . . . her arm looked like she’d been bitten. I know that sounds crazy, but her arm had what looked like a bite mark on it. Then the rash—” Ruth pressed her hand to her forehead.
“Rash?”
“A rash on her arm. Almost looks like poison ivy gone crazy and it won’t heal.”
Daniel rubbed his wife’s back. “This has really taken a toll on all of us. Faith has missed a lot of school. Her teachers have been accommodating, sending lecture notes and her homework home. But the school has a policy about maximum absences.”
Ruth sniffed and swiped a tear from her cheek. “The pediatrician can’t diagnose what’s wrong. He ran every test he could think of. They’ve drawn more blood than you’d think one little girl could safely give. He even ran X-rays and a CT scan. Rare blood tests. Allergy panels. I can’t remember all the tests he ran. All negative. Even the rash won’t respond to treatment. Cortisone shots do nothing. Oral steroids. We’ve been through gallons of calamine lotion.”
“We’ve been to specialists now too. No help at all,” Daniel added. “They’re all confounded.”
“She hasn’t been herself lately. I don’t know how else to describe it,” Ruth said. “Withdrawn, down. She even raised her voice to me a few times.”
“We don’t allow behavior like that,” Daniel said. “Disrespect. But Faith looked shocked after snapping at her mother. And cried so hard afterward.”
“She’s not herself,” Ruth repeated. “And then . . .”
Kimberly sat quietly, allowing the woman time to gather her nerve.
Daniel draped an arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay. Go ahead.”
Ruth took a deep breath. “I sometimes feel . . . a hand on me. At night. Touching me. It wakes me up. And it’s not Daniel. Every time this happened, he was turned away from me, on the other side of the bed. I know what people will think, but it’s not him and I’m not crazy.”
This is more than just Faith’s illness. I didn’t get the full story. What had she walked into? This was a far more alarming disturbance that she’d expected. “I assume you’re being touched inappropriately.”
Ruth nodded. “I’ve felt a hand run down my arm. Once it slithered around my hip. And once it groped me . . . on my thigh.” She shuddered. “I’m not crazy. I didn’t imagine any of this, but I don’t know what to do. I’m at the end of my rope.”
Kimberly reached across the table and squeezed Ruth’s hand. The woman’s red chakra resonated, spinning brightly, indicating fear and survival dominated Ruth’s emotions. “I can only imagine how violated you feel. We don’t think you’re crazy, and I promise—”
“Me too.” The older daughter spoke for the first time since the crew had arrived for the interview.
Kimberly turned to the sisters. She’d never seen such somber children. Both of them stared into their laps. She sensed fear from the girls, much like their mother, but also something else. Something she couldn’t quite identify. Guilt? Were they ashamed to have a camera crew recording their family’s intimate secrets? “You’ve also experienced groping?”
Rebecca nodded.
Daniel jumped to his feet, brow furrowed and eyes full of concern. “You didn’t tell us!”
“I didn’t think you’d believe me,” Rebecca whispered. “I thought maybe I dreamed it or imagined it. But if the same thing happened to Mom, maybe it was real.”
The younger daughter raised her eyes. “I thought I felt someone touching me too.”
Kimberly sat straighter, hoping she’d misunderstood the girl. “Are you talking about the scratches on your arms and legs?”
Faith flicked her eyes to her. The shame rolling off the girl broke Kimberly’s heart. “Sometimes it scratches. Sometimes it rubs my back or pats my cheek.”
Daniel pressed a hand to his forehead. “All three of you?” He paced away from the table, seemed unsure where to go, then returned, hands on his hips. “Do you know how helpless I feel right now? My wife and daughters all harassed and I can’t stop it. Faith sick and no one can figure out why. I want to fix it. To do something.”
Stan homed in on Daniel. TJ held back, capturing wide shots. She crossed to Daniel and rested a hand on his shoulder. “You did do something. You called us. We’re going to help you figure this out.”
Daniel’s forehead wrinkled. “But I’m afraid . . . I’m afraid we’re being tested. Maybe we shouldn’t have called you.”
“Tested?” she asked. “What do you mean?”
“Our faith in the Lord. Sometimes the devil challenges Christians. Tests their faith. What if this is a test? Everyone at our church is praying for us. And we believe we can overcome anything with God’s help. But maybe we were weak. Impatient.”
“Or maybe God brought Kimberly here in answer to your prayers,” Sterling said.
Her jaw dropped. She spun to face Sterling, stunned by his sober, sincere attitude. Gone was the glib showman, constantly searching for attention and cracking jokes. He genuinely appeared to mean what he said. A man of science claiming God had sent her to help? She remembered him once mentioning being raised Catholic. Perhaps his religious upbringing remained firmly entrenched. They’d never discussed it.
“But if this is a demon sent to test us,” Ruth said, “can she help?”
Sterling stood, resting his hands on his hips. “Are you kidding? Do you watch this show? Kimberly Wantland never fails. She will do anything to ensure your family is safe.”
Daniel raised his eyebrows. “We saw some episodes of SpookBusters. We know you don’t believe in spirits. Why would you say that?”
“Look at it this way. You get the best of both worlds. I’ll be here to investigate scientific explanations for the disturbances you’re experiencing. If I find something, we fix it. Kimberly will search for alternate solutions to your problem. Either way, we don’t leave until the issues are resolved.”
“What do you mean scientific explanations?” Daniel asked. “Like what?”
“Well,” Sterling began, “I noticed on the way in—”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Kimberly interrupted. “Save those brilliant ideas for the investigation, Sterling.” She beamed at him, hoping he could see in her eyes the gratitude for his praise. She couldn’t wait to hear his initial impressions off camera and away from the family. She doubted she’d agree with him. But he was intelligent and might bring something valuable to the table.
She shifted to face Stan, speaking directly into his camera. “The Johnsons are plagued by a force growing bolder and more menacing by the day, powerful enough to move objects, sicken their younger daughter, and physically harass all the females in the house. Who is this spirit and what prompted him to lash out now?”
Sterling joined her, pressing shoulder to shoulder. “Or is something other than a spirit causing the issues disturbing this family?”
He looked to her, his piercing gaze searching hers. For . . . permission? Approval?
She smiled, nodded once, and continued. “Stay with us as Sterling and I search for the truth behind the haunting, tonight on The Wantland Files.”