The crew gathered in the Johnsons’ living room before the second night investigation as Elise shared what she’d learned about Ezekiel Jackson. Kimberly sat on the couch, Rosie on one side, Sterling on the other, everyone doing their best to ignore the periodic shouts from the street.
Normally, Kimberly attended every minute of footage review, but today she’d spent the afternoon in her trailer, afraid to cross back to the house. Rosie had administered a full body massage, applied numerous calming oils, and kept her tea mug full. Sterling stood guard at the window, keeping an eye on the protestor, and spent a lot of time on his phone.
Ruth had apparently baked cookies to distract herself. She cruised amongst the crew with a platter, offering baked goods and coffee to everyone. When she passed by Sterling, he pocketed his phone and held up his empty hands. He passed one hand over the other—and a daisy appeared. He held it out to Ruth.
“Thank you!” Ruth said, accepting the flower. “That was remarkable.”
“How did you do that?” Kimberly asked.
“A magician never tells.” Sterling helped himself to two cookies from the platter. “And Kimberly likes her coffee strong with just a bit of milk added to it.”
“Sterling! I don’t need her to wait on me,” Kimberly chided him.
“I’m happy to keep myself busy,” Ruth said. “Anything to take my mind off everything going on is welcome.”
Snickers had stationed himself at the window by the door, paws resting on the low sill. A deep growl rumbled in his throat anytime Ezekiel yelled. He rounded through the living room every few minutes, as if checking on his people. He sniffed hands, accepted pets, and looked generally concerned.
Ruth returned with coffee, which Kimberly gladly accepted. She’d attempted to nap but her heightened anxiety and Ezekiel’s yelling had kept her from sleeping. The coffee would keep her awake for the investigation tonight.
Michael cleared his throat. “Elise, what did you find? Who the heck is this guy?”
Elise adjusted her glasses and focused on her notebook. “Sterling texted his name to me, but as soon as he started posting on Twitter, it didn’t take much effort. Ezekiel Jackson established a church about twenty years ago—”
“A church?” Daniel asked, arms crossed.
“He calls it a church,” Elise continued. “Church of True Salvation. He and his followers claim to base their beliefs on literal interpretation of the Bible. However, a quick Google search brings up a lot of posts disproving that. They’re mostly seen as a hate group now. This is what they do—travel around the country protesting anything or anyone that they claim is evil or against God.”
“That isn’t a church,” Ruth said. “True Christians continue the work Jesus began during his life.”
“No one disagrees with you,” Elise said. “Except maybe Ezekiel and his followers.”
“What followers?” Sterling asked. “He’s alone out there.”
“They branch out to annoy as many people as possible at any given time,” Elise said. “He has people in numerous states today. But he does seem to be losing church members faster than he’s attracting them lately.”
“Maybe that’s why he targeted Kimberly,” Michael suggested. “Harassing a high-profile personality like her means more eyes on him. And more potential like-minded lunatics to add to his followers.”
“We can handle him,” Sterling said. “Let him try something. If he gets anywhere near Kimberly”—he formed a fist—“I’ll be glad for the excuse.”
She flushed. His presence during the afternoon had helped her nerves. But an altercation would not help anything. “I appreciate the sentiment, but we can’t engage this guy.”
“I have to respond some way,” Sterling insisted, opening the Twitter app on his phone. “He took that recording of you and edited it to sound like a threat. He also recorded me getting in his face. Look at this. People commenting things like, ‘I didn’t realize Kimberly Wantland was so hateful.’ That’s garbage! He’s the one spewing hate out there. He tagged the show, you, me, Michael, everyone who has a Twitter account.”
“I don’t think it will help,” she said. “Like Rosie said, you can’t argue with crazy.”
Rosie shook her head. “I don’t know, girl. You won’t be able to change this guy’s behavior, but I’m with Sterling. We need something to counter his lies. People will believe anything they see online.”
“I hate this sort of thing,” she said. “Michael?”
“Let’s see if it blows over. Maybe tomorrow this will be yesterday’s news, and no one will pay attention. I’ll reach out to Randmeier as well and give him a heads-up that this could blow up even bigger on us.”
“Okay,” she agreed. “Let’s hope for the best. What about footage review? Anything else helpful there? Did TJ manage to record the porcelain ladies while I was in Faith’s room this morning?”
TJ squirmed in his seat. “I was focused on you. The display case wasn’t in the frame when they moved. I’m sorry, Ms. Wantland.”
Stan leaned forward, his camera logging the discussion. “The recording glitches and blips quite a bit though. I think that’s when the presence moved them. And frankly we know Kimberly didn’t move them. Too many witnesses. So, I think it’s a good case for paranormal involvement.”
“But if her hands aren’t in the shot,” Sterling said, “then she could have moved them. That won’t fly as proof. Sorry. And I wasn’t there to witness. We only have TJ’s word for it, and he’s biased. Plus, he admitted he wasn’t watching her hands.”
“But how could she lift off the glass dome without any of us seeing it?”
“No one was paying attention,” he said.
“Faith was there, too,” she reminded him.
“No offense, but she’s the most likely person to be moving them. They’re her dolls in her room. Without actually recording them moving, you have nothing.”
TJ and Stan appeared to grind their teeth, but neither said anything more.
“Anything else from review?” she asked Michael.
“Not anything definitive or substantial. No voices. Nothing moving other than the items in the pantry.”
“Also not caught on a recording,” Sterling muttered.
“Okay, we know. You don’t believe any of this,” she said. Her head was beginning to pound, and she wished Sterling could focus more on being supportive and protective than disagreeable and contradictory.
“Just pointing out the obvious. It’s my job,” he reminded her.
She scowled and changed the subject. “What about the property? Anything helpful in the history?”
Elise and Ruth shared a glance. Elise flipped pages in her notebook. “The land was acquired during the Land Run of 1889 by Ruth’s ancestors. Prior to that, most of Oklahoma Territory had been parceled out to Native American tribes, who were forced to move here when displaced from their homelands by white settlers greedy for land. Not a great part of our history, honestly.”
Could angry Native Americans haunt the land? Had someone perhaps refused to leave his home again and died as a result?
“I can tell you lots of stories passed down through my family,” Ruth said. “I had distant relatives who were true cowboys, for one thing. My great-grandfather used to say that a true cowboy had to do three things. He had to drive cattle from Texas to Kansas. He had to shoot a rattlesnake. And he had to hang a cattle rustler. Out on the trail, they didn’t bother with dragging a rustler to the next town for trial. Anyone caught stealing was handled right there on the spot. It was a different time.”
“A lawless time, it sounds like.”
“Well, once the town established itself, they tried to be more civilized. My great-great-grandfather was sheriff of Guthrie when it was still young. Back then, outlaws hid in rural Oklahoma. Guthrie was capital of Oklahoma when we became a state, so he dealt with a lot of criminals.”
Elise picked back up. “This site specifically, though, was claimed by her family. Someone tried to jump the claim before he registered it.”
“Jump it?”
Ruth answered again. “That’s right. One tent had been set up to register land claims. Men waited in line for days sometimes, trying to register their land. Another man tried to register the same parcel of land, though my great-great-grandfather had the deed in hand. The other man argued that he’d had the deed, but it was stolen from him while he slept in line. The man was discovered to be a criminal. Though he claimed he wanted to turn his life around and work an honest living, he clearly was up to his same tricks. Many did lose their claims though. My great-great-uncle also ran in that first run. He staked a claim for a farm. But then he got word that his wife had gone into labor. He returned home to be with her and by the time he got back, someone had jumped his claim.”
“But here, on this land, no traumatic instances or problems?”
Ruth cocked her head. “What do you mean?”
“I can feel different history at each location we investigate. I can sense the history of the land itself, that of the dwelling, and the people currently living there. Sometimes it can be challenging to discern one from the others. If I know of any important events, that can help.”
“I’ll have to think about it,” Ruth said. The woman’s brow furrowed. “My grandfather was a pastor. Surely the home must be blessed with positive spiritual energy. We . . . we brought in our own pastor to say some prayers a few weeks ago. But the problems continued.”
More shouting sent a growl rumbling through Snickers’ chest.
“Now what?” Sterling asked. He got up and crossed to the window. “Great. That’s the last thing we need.”
“What is it?” She jumped up and joined him. A news van had parked across the street. A reporter and camera operator approached Ezekiel Jackson, who had increased his volume now that he had a new audience to perform for.
“We stand against witches and witchcraft,” he yelled, waving his sign above his head as the camera operator focused on the reporter, who stood with Ezekiel and the house behind her, so Kimberly couldn’t see the woman’s face.
“That’s News Channel Six,” Ruth said. “And I think that’s Cathy Rickman, one of their main reporters.”
“Is this honestly such a slow news day that they have nothing more important to report on than kooks harassing people?” Sterling asked.
“He’s making noise. Noise attracts attention,” she said. “You know that better than anyone else in the room. Making noise is how you got on my show to begin with.”
“I wasn’t an ass,” he muttered.
She would’ve disagreed at the time but didn’t reply. No sense in digging up old annoyances.
Faith and Rebecca came downstairs, presumably from their rooms.
“What’s happening now?” Rebecca asked. “This is so embarrassing. Everyone on the block can hear that guy shouting at our house.”
“I’m afraid he may be on the news tonight,” Ruth told her.
“Now everyone at school will know too!” Rebecca flopped onto the couch. Faith sat beside her sister, wringing her hands. Rebecca draped an arm around Faith’s shoulders and leaned against her. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.”
Faith whispered so quietly no one else in the room seemed to notice. “It is my fault. You know it is.”
“No. Not at all. Stop thinking that.”
Kimberly drifted closer, hoping to glean more information. Why did Faith blame herself? What did Rebecca know? What name did Faith nearly disclose earlier? The girls went silent, and she didn’t feel comfortable interrupting them.
Rebecca caught her watching them and pulled Faith’s head onto her shoulder. Kimberly watched Rebecca comfort her younger sister and wondered how differently her life might have turned out if she’d had a sister. An older sister to look up to and watch out for her or perhaps a younger sister to care for. And if she had a sister, she wouldn’t be all alone in the world. What would it be like to have someone always there for her, someone she could reach out to when she really needed to talk?
Ezekiel’s shouting pulled her back from wistful thoughts to reality.
“The reporter and camera seem to have given him a second wind,” Sterling commented. “He’s not slowing down at all.”
Ruth watched, then turned to Daniel. “What should we do? Call the police?”
“He is disturbing the peace. Not to mention upsetting the neighbors.”
“Why don’t we hold off on calling police?” Michael massaged his temples. “Let’s send you guys back to the hotel. At least we can get you out of here, so you don’t have to put up with this. I’m hoping to avoid confrontation. He could spin that to make the show look really bad.”
“How much longer do you expect your investigation to take?” Daniel asked.
“I promise I’ll do everything I can tonight,” she said. “When we leave, I’m sure he will too.”
A new thought struck her. What if he followed them? What if he continued harassing her at every investigation? She couldn’t worry about that now. The Johnsons needed her.
“At least it’s Friday,” Rebecca mumbled, pushing herself off the couch. “No school for two days.”
The family left to retrieve their bags for the night.
Kimberly pulled Elise to the side. “Did Ruth share anything with you about the property that could be useful to us?”
Elise shrugged. “She shared too much really. The area has so much history. Anything could be causing this. Maybe if you get something tonight it could help me know what to look at more closely. Our constant conundrum.”
“It’s a Catch-22, isn’t it? I’m hoping you’ll find something that can help me focus, but you need a hint for what to look at yourself. Let me know if anything grabs your attention.”
Rebecca’s voice carried down the stairs. “Faith, stop! You’re not funny!”
Kimberly frowned at Michael, who raised an eyebrow and gestured they go upstairs. She nodded.
Ruth and Daniel already scrambled up the staircase and beat her to Rebecca’s room. Faith stood in the doorway, completely still, staring blankly, one hand reaching toward her sister.
Ruth dropped to one knee and grabbed Faith by the shoulders. “Faith! Snap out of it! Come on. We need to leave for the hotel now.”
Kimberly stood beside the family, overwhelmed by the psychic energy pouring off the girl. She grabbed her quartz and placed a hand on Faith’s shoulder.
The girl cringed and whirled around. The deep, gravelly voice that came from her mouth startled them all. “Get off me!”
She retracted her hand. Something, someone, inhabited the girl. Had taken control of her. Spoke through her. She looked for a camera operator. Stan, of course, was on the scene, recording the odd behavior. She noticed Sterling, mouth open in shock.
Ruth stared on helplessly, wringing her hands. “Ms. Wantland?”
She placed both hands on the girl, focused all her energy, and ‘shoved’ against the entity, urging it away from Faith. It resisted, but she dislodged it. From the anger it left behind, she knew she’d taken it by surprise. The next time she challenged it, it wouldn’t be so easily overcome.
Faith crumpled into her mother’s arms, blinking and dazed. “What happened? Why am I in Rebecca’s room?”
Ruth sobbed quietly. “Why? Why is this happening to us? Why my little girl?”
Tears streaked Rebecca’s face.
“Come on. Let’s get you out of here,” she urged the family. “Quickly.”
They grabbed their bags, and she ushered them down the stairs. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the presence waited, recharging. She wanted the family gone before it could strike again.
The older house did not include an attached garage, which meant they would have to brave the protestor outside to get to their van.
“Just keep your heads down and keep moving,” she instructed, suggesting the same approach she used when inundated with unwanted attention.
As soon as the door opened, Ezekiel shouted louder. “You house a witch! God hates a sinner! You will reap what you sow!”
Ruth glared at the man, arms around the girls as if attempting to shield her daughters from him. Daniel rushed to unlock and open the van doors. While the girls clambered in, Ruth broke away and walked down the driveway toward the street.
“Ruth?” she called.
Ezekiel’s energy intensified as she approached. “God hates a sinner! You will reap what you sow!”
“How dare you claim to be a Christian?” she shouted back. “What are you sowing? Hate! A true Christian sows love and compassion. A true follower of Christ helps. He doesn’t spend his time idly shouting at those trying to help.”
“You house a witch! Yours is a house of evil!”
“Get away from my house!” Ruth yelled. “You’re scaring my children and upsetting the neighbors.”
“I’ll scare the hell out of them! Scare them back to God!”
Daniel put his arm around Ruth’s shoulders and turned her toward the van. “This is what he wants. He wants to make a scene and grab attention. Let’s go.”
“He’s not a Christian,” Ruth repeatedly emphatically, then yelled over her shoulder. “You are no Christian!”
She watched the family drive away to the safety of the hotel, then turned to Sterling, surprised to find him grinning. “What are you happy about?”
He held up his phone. “I recorded that entire exchange. Now your media specialist can fight back.”