Staring out of the windshield, Kimberly blinked several times but still couldn’t believe her eyes. Who were all these people? Somehow, they were even more terrifying in person than they’d been on the television screen.
A news van sat parked across the street from the Johnsons’ house, apparently hoping to catch a confrontation between her crew and the protestors, who no longer simply congregated on the sidewalk—their numbers had increased to the point that they spilled into the street as well, impeding cars attempting to creep past. Still, though they clogged the sidewalk and choked the street, not so much as one toe crossed over onto personal property.
Sterling pulled his car to the curb several houses down from the Johnsons’. “Someone needs to call the police to clear these guys out of the street. Someone not connected to the show.” He adjusted his sunglasses and blew out a breath. After a quick glance over his shoulder, he shifted into reverse, rested his arm on her seat, and drove backwards. He maneuvered through the neighborhood until they were several blocks away then pulled into the empty driveway of an abandoned ramshackle ruins of a house.
A blast of negative energy radiated from the decaying remnants of a home. She raised a palm as if to shield herself and grabbed her quartz.
“You okay?” Sterling asked.
“Someone died here. Long ago. A woman. Violently. Gruesomely. Blood splattered . . . all over the room.”
“Great. Of all the houses in all the neighborhood, I pulled into the driveway of murder house. Well, it looks the part.” He threw the car into reverse and tried another driveway. “Better?”
She breathed a sigh of relief as the onslaught of negative psychic energy ceased. “Yes, much. Thank you for not questioning or doubting.”
“I have a plan. It will only work once if it works at all. Get in the back and lie down.” As she followed his instructions and clambered awkwardly into the cramped back seat, he wriggled out of his jacket and passed it to her. “Good thing you’re so tiny or you wouldn’t fit back there. Put this over yourself. Hide under it the best you can. The tinted windows will help.”
She complied, realizing what he intended. Head on the leather seat, his leather jacket over her, she was surrounded by and very aware of the rugged scent enveloping her, partly Sterling’s own particular fragrance. Before she could reign in her thoughts, she envisioned Sterling draped over her instead of the jacket. So not the time.
She stayed still, unable to see a thing, dreading what would happen when they reached the house. Why target her? Why? She wasn’t hurting a soul. What did they hope to accomplish other than causing her and the Johnsons distress? She marveled that Sterling managed to stay so calm and levelheaded. Thank goodness he was here. Even sleepless and painfully tired, he insisted on making sure she got safely to the investigation. What would she do without him? She propped up on one elbow and peeped out from under the jacket.
“Won’t they recognize you?” If he decided her show was more trouble than it was worth, would he leave? She didn’t want to go back to running things solo.
“Get back down!” He batted at her with one hand. “I don’t know. Maybe. They might. Ezekiel posted that video of me arguing with him. Still, I’m not the target. Okay, here we go. Stay covered.”
She heard the rowdy crowd as they approached the Johnsons’ house and hated crouching down and hiding. The car slowed, and she heard Sterling murmur, “Come on, move. You’re not allowed to impede traffic flow.”
Curiosity pushed her to sit up and see what was happening. But she wasn’t ready to provoke the inevitable confrontation just yet.
“Listen,” Sterling said, his voice hard. “As soon as I turn into the driveway, all that attention will turn on us. I’ll pull as close to the house as I can. You run for the door, okay?”
“They have to stay in the street, don’t they?”
“In theory.” Sterling’s low timbre and hard tone scared her more than the periodic shouts from the crowd punctuating the mid-morning quiet of the neighborhood. “I’m at the driveway.”
The car lurched and spun to the right, tossing her in the back seat as Sterling gunned the engine and whipped into the driveway. She fought to hold herself steady as the car jerked to a sudden stop.
The butterfly door whooshed as it rose. Sterling popped out of the car and tipped his seat forward. “Go!”
She scrambled to straighten while remaining under the jacket and threw herself out the door. Terrified of tripping and sprawling face-first to the ground, she watched her feet, head ducked, heartbeat pounding in her ears.
The crowd went momentarily silent, presumably as they caught sight of her and collectively worked through the event unfolding in front of them. When one of the protestors yelled, “It’s her!” the chanting and derogatory noises and comments erupted in earnest.
Tempted to sneak a glance, she fought the urge and scurried up the steps to the family home. To her surprise, the door opened as she approached, and Ruth pulled her inside. After waving a trotting Sterling through, the woman slammed the door, uttering something about God truly getting the last word.
Kimberly lowered Sterling’s jacket and stated the obvious. “You’re here.”
Ruth nodded. “Michael called to warn me of the crowd and suggest perhaps we stay at the hotel, but we were already here by then. We came home early. Faith is not in good shape. She’s staring into space. Won’t answer us. Won’t eat. Daniel and I have prayed so hard. I refuse to let myself believe that God isn’t listening, but it’s getting more difficult. We’re good Christians, we go to church, we help others and strive not to sin. Faith is on the prayer chain at our church as well as other prayer chains at other churches. With so many praying for her, how can this be happening? How can God allow this to happen?”
Though she hadn’t couched it in religious terms, Kimberly knew exactly how Ruth felt. She’d just been thinking virtually the same thing. Not normally a hugger—the influx of energy often flooded her when she experienced unbridled physical touch—she nonetheless grabbed the woman in a hug.
Ruth relaxed against her. Apparently hungry for comfort, the woman siphoned energy rather than dumping her own. Kimberly pushed positive energy toward her.
Ruth looked calmer when she lifted her head and wiped her eyes. “Do you pray, Kimberly? Will you pray with me?”
She hesitated and almost declined but realized prayer would further comfort Ruth. “Sure. Let’s pray.”
Ruth extended one hand to Sterling. “Won’t you join our prayer circle?”
“Of course.” If Sterling found this ridiculous, he hid it well, grasping their hands solemnly and bowing his head.
“Lord, we thank you for this day,” Ruth began. “We thank you for Kimberly Wantland, her assistant Sterling, and the rest of her crew, who have adjusted their schedules to come to our aid. We thank you for the gifts you blessed Kimberly with, allowing her to help your children in need. We ask for your loving presence today. Guide Kimberly as she works to solve our problem. Guide Sterling as he works alongside her. Guide the entire crew as they seek to help us. Lord, we beseech you to protect us from evil forces that seek to harm your children. In this and in all things, we pray. Amen.”
Not surprising, Sterling, raised Catholic, joined Ruth’s final closing. “Amen.”
Shocking, at least to Kimberly, she echoed, “Amen.”
Sterling glanced at her as Ruth squeezed and released their hands. Why shouldn’t she affirm Ruth’s prayer? Maybe she would categorize herself spiritual rather than religious, but she wasn’t anti-theistic. She sensed warmth and peace flowing from Ruth as she intoned the prayer. If it brought her and Daniel comfort, great. The more happiness and positive energy flowing through the planet, the better the spiritual atmosphere for everyone.
Snickers, who had been lying at Ruth’s feet with his nose resting on crossed paws, stood. “Ahf-ahf.”
Ruth graced the dog with a smile and a pat on the head, prompting his tail to wag. “We didn’t train him to do that. But doesn’t it sound like he’s trying to say amen?”
Kimberly kept her smile firmly in place as she saw Sterling struggle not to laugh. “He’s a very good dog. I can tell. He’s been helping with the investigation, too.”
“I’m glad to hear he hasn’t been any trouble,” Ruth said. “I’m going to start a big pot of coffee and will keep brewing all day. I doubt any of you got more sleep than we did, and we feel dreadful.”
“I’ll need it,” Sterling said. “Thanks. Doubt we will venture out to the trailer much.”
Kimberly’s stomach sank. “I’ll have to at least once. For makeup.”
Sterling nodded. “We’ll manage. They’re just yelling. It can’t hurt you.”
If only he realized how that sort of negative energy affected her. If he felt it too, he would realize his statement wasn’t entirely accurate. But she knew he meant physical injury, not spiritual distress. Though she felt the stress and anxiety in her body.
Ruth, on her way to the kitchen, stopped and turned back. “Don’t you feel that, though? Something ominous in the air? Like a bad omen. It feels heavy and makes me anxious.”
“I do,” Kimberly said, surprised someone other than her picked up on the shift. “I think the toxic energy from the crowd is feeding the presence. Strengthening it.”
“That sounds like a demon to me.” Ruth frowned. “But you said it’s not one.”
“No, I believe this is a spirit with a personal vendetta. Someone once human, who lived and died with unfinished business and is seeking resolution. In fact, I think we’re dealing with a very powerful—”
The crowd outside erupted once again. Snickers raised his hackles and scampered to the door, low growl rumbling in his throat.
She moved to the window and pushed the curtain aside only enough to peek out. From the side of the company van, her face peered back at her thoughtfully next to The Wantland Files logo. Protestors shook signs with extra vigor and shouted with more fervor as the doors opened. Stan jumped out first. He planted his feet, crossed his arms, and squared off against the crowd as if daring them to try anything. Michael, Rosie, and the others unloaded.
Her pulse kicked up a notch watching the agitated crowd.
“See?” Sterling said, resting a hand on her lower back. “Just noise. It can’t hurt you.”
“Maybe not physically, but it throws me off balance and drains my energy. Which won’t help the investigation.”
Ruth threw open the front door and ushered the crew inside, casting some serious stink eye on the noisy gathering in the street.
Rosie rushed to her side. “You okay, girl?”
“Yes. Sterling got me inside no problem.”
Michael directed everyone to ignore the distractions as best they could and get started on footage review. “You okay, Kimmy?”
She pulled her gaze away from the angry mob and nodded. “As okay as I can be, considering.”
“Come join us when you’re ready. And then we can speak with the family when they’re ready.”
Ruth’s forehead crinkled. “Speak with us again? We intended to stay out of the way.”
“Kimmy has a few more questions for you. Hoping you can clarify some things, maybe offer a few more details.”
“I think we’ve told you everything. But I’ll let Daniel know. He wanted to be alone to pray. I think he’s in our bedroom.”
“Why don’t I help with coffee and tea?” Rosie offered.
Michael clapped his hands together. “Let’s get started on review, folks.”
Everyone dispersed, leaving her alone again with Sterling. He stood with arms crossed, head cocked, and seemed to be evaluating her, lips curled in a bemused half smile.
“What’s that look for?” she asked.
“I was surprised you agreed to pray with Ruth.”
“Why?”
“Thought you don’t approve of prayer and religion.”
“I don’t disapprove. Praying is Ruth’s way of sharing positive energy. Everything she said was kind and supportive. Of course I welcome that. I need all the positive energy I can get to combat that negativity out in the street.”
He shook his head slightly. “Every time I think I have you figured out, you surprise me. And for some reason, I like that.”
“You like that I surprise you?”
“I like that you’re complicated and interesting. You keep me guessing. You make me want to know more.”
The intense look in his eyes seemed to search out her innermost thoughts, as if he hoped to catch a glimpse of her soul. She squirmed, not sure she was ready to share as much of herself as he appeared to be seeking. Laying bare her easily crushed heart didn’t appeal to her. Even if this man was starting to convince her he would handle it with utmost care. Even if he did demonstrate genuine concern for her wellbeing, her wants, her needs. He protected her. Shielded her. Seemed ready to fight for her.
Maybe that was the problem. Men she’d dated typically focused on what she could do for them. Not initially, of course, but eventually the relationships settled into the same pattern again and again, draining her until she had to call it off. But Sterling didn’t take. He offered. He gave. And, she realized, that made her suspicious. What did he want? He must want something in return. No guy had ever treated her this way and certainly never given her anything without wanting something in return—even if that something was only control. If she allowed her feelings for him to control her behavior, eventually the relationship would sour. And she didn’t want that. She’d grown accustomed to his presence.
Something behind her caught his attention. His eyes cut away, the burning intensity gone.
“Ms. Wantland?”
She turned to see a hesitant Rebecca slinking into the living room, dragging a reluctant-looking Faith. “Hi, girls. How are you today?”
Rebecca crept closer, eyes darting toward the kitchen. “I . . . we—” The girl glanced at her sister. “Faith and I . . . did something. It’s my fault. I made her.”
“It wasn’t your fault. It was mine,” Faith insisted, tears in her eyes. “It was my birthday party. I’m the one that did it.”
Rebecca hugged her sister. “No. I’m the one who made you. I was excited. I should have known better.”
Kimberly looked at Sterling. He shrugged.
“Girls? What is it? What do you think you did?”
Faith lifted her head from Rebecca’s shoulder. “I had a slumber party for my birthday. One of my friends brought a”—she dropped her voice to a whisper—“Ouija board.”
Kimberly lifted a hand to her mouth. As she suspected, the planchette that burned her hand was involved.
“A Ouija board?” Sterling lifted his eyebrows in amusement.
Ruth entered the room with two mugs of coffee. “What about a Ouija board?”
The girls jumped and went silent, staring at the floor.
Ruth looked back and forth, eyebrows furrowed. “What is happening?”
Kimberly sighed and reached for her coffee. “I think it’s time for the family meeting.”