Snickers lay under the table, head resting on Kimberly’s feet as she sat, worrying over each bit of information they’d collected so far. Restless, she longed to pace, move about the space. But she couldn’t bring herself to disturb the dog. His attention comforted her, and she sensed he intended it to.
Her crew had gathered around the table with her. She had the land claim, the doll, and the bible in front of her. How did it all tie together? She’d asked Rebecca to repeat the entire conversation with the Ouija board several times. But she knew something was missing.
“Anything on the recordings?” she asked Stan.
Her head camera operator glanced up from his computer screen. “They’re blurry. Disjointed. Lots of static. But TJ did catch the light under the attic door. I’m trying to isolate where he got bit, see if he caught any images. Maybe we can determine what we’re up against. But to anyone else, the images will look like faked click bait. Not much to go on.”
Rosie rubbed Kimberly’s temples. “You’re getting too worked up, girl. You need to relax.”
“I’m trying. But it’s so frustrating. The puzzle pieces won’t come together. Heck, I feel like I have a jumbled assortment of pieces from different puzzles.”
“You’re not getting anything at all?” Michael asked.
“Like the recordings, it’s jumbled and non-coherent. I know there’s a presence here. I know it’s male. I know he’s miserable and wants to make everyone in this house miserable. What I don’t know is how to convince him to connect with me and let me help him.”
Silence descended on the group.
After a moment, Ruth whispered, “You know, my mother talked about George quite a few times. I assumed she was remembering someone from her past. And everything I read about Alzheimer’s advised not to question or argue. So I just let her talk.”
Kimberly sat up, leaning across the table toward Ruth. The woman hadn’t mentioned this before. Perhaps she could glean some clues from the elderly woman’s conversations. “What did she say about George?”
“Oh, I don’t know. At the time I didn’t pay all that much attention. Honestly, I worried she was remembering some old boyfriend from when she was younger, and I didn’t really want to hear about that. But she would say that George came to visit and check on her.” Ruth stopped fiddling with her wedding band and looked up at her. “You know, I’d forgotten this, but she told me once that George was so happy when I chose the name Rebecca.”
Kimberly frowned and grasped her quartz. This case was giving her a headache. “What you’re saying doesn’t make any sense.”
Sterling finally contributed to the conversation. “Kimberly, the ramblings of an Alzheimer’s patient don’t typically make sense.”
Ruth nodded. “I agree. Especially toward the end. Except when she talked about George, she seemed lucid. She was calm, more like herself before she got sick. And the less coherent in general, the more she told me about George.”
The more her grandmother’s mental faculties deteriorated, the more she’d talked about George? Did the loss of social norms and expectations open people to input from the spirit world? Interesting to contemplate. “I understand but that’s not what I meant. Her mother’s experiences sound positive and reassuring. Why would George hurt Faith and terrorize the family when Ruth’s mother reports such positive interactions that appear to indicate he’s been here many years—maybe more than we realize—and had ample opportunity to cause problems before now?”
Ruth dropped her head in her hands. “What if he did hurt her? What if some of her skin lesions weren’t expected wounds due to thinning skin and clumsiness? I should’ve been here. I should have done more. You just never see the end coming. You always assume you’ll have another day.”
Kimberly grasped the woman’s hands. “I don’t think George ever hurt your mother. I think he was here keeping her company when you were busy with your family. You were blessed to care for her into her later years, and I know you did everything you could.”
Unlike me. I stood by while something attacked my mother. Didn’t even call for help.
Enough. She couldn’t dwell on the past. All she could do was solve the current haunting. And plan to investigate her childhood home the moment her schedule allowed it. Dwelling on the past would change nothing.
Overwhelmed with the urge to shield and protect this family, she motioned for everyone to gather around. “Come on. We can figure this out. Everyone think. The property claim was disputed. James insisted George stole it and vice versa. James hung George for crimes that George insisted he didn’t commit. If that’s all true, George would be here looking for revenge against the descendants of the man who wronged him.”
Nods and murmurs of agreement circled the table.
“That makes sense until we factor in the evidence”—she glanced at Sterling but he didn’t roll his eyes—“that George has possibly been here on the contested property for generations. Conceivably since the hanging. But the family never experienced anything malicious until Faith’s birthday party. What set him off?”
Sterling looked around the table, sighed, and leaned forward. “No one else, huh? Really? You’re going to make me do it?”
Caught off guard, Kimberly asked, “Do you have a theory, Sterling?”
“Remember Occam’s Razor? ‘The simplest explanation is usually the correct one.’ If we were talking about people, I’d say you’re describing two different people. You accept spirits exist around us. If I also believed in them, I would say you’re describing the behavior of two different spirits. Judging by the ‘evidence’ you just laid out.”
She nearly slapped her forehead. “Of course! That would explain it. You’re a genius! The girls must have released a second spirit with the Ouija board.”
Sterling’s head rolled back, and he looked at the ceiling. “Great. I’m a genius figuring out ghost logic. Terrific. Exactly what I never wanted.”
“No, this is great!” she enthused. “Just the break in the case I needed! Now I can approach this with fresh eyes and maybe make some progress. It’s not George we need to connect with. It’s someone else! The question is, who and what do they want?”
“You know,” Sterling said, “my very first episode, you decided you had a second ghost in the house. Seems like someone else could have arrived at this conclusion.”
“But we needed you to see it for us this time.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Sometimes we need fresh eyes.”
His features softened. “A fresh perspective never hurts, that’s true. I guess I’m okay with it. Seriously, though. What else could be happening here? Thoughts anyone?”
Snickers lifted his head from her feet. He stood and ran to the stairs, whimpering.
She exchanged confused looks with her crew, then followed the dog.
Faith padded silently down the staircase in her nightgown and bare feet. The girl’s eyes, though open, seemed unfocused.
Ruth moved to intercept her daughter, but Kimberly grabbed her arm.
“Is she normally a sleepwalker?”
“No, not to my knowledge.”
“Don’t disturb her.”
Faith hesitated when she reached the first floor, swaying in place. The girl changed trajectory, walked to the radio, and switched it on.
Ruth tried again to go to Faith, but Kimberly held an arm out, blocking her. “Let her. Please. We need information.”
Faith twisted the dial until the music faded, melting into crackling static.
The girl turned her empty, glazed gaze on Kimberly and whispered, “George wants to talk to you, but James won’t let him.”
Michael gasped. “Two ghosts confirmed. Well done, Sterling.”
She didn’t know if Sterling responded. She didn’t dare take her eyes off Faith. “James? What does he want? What could possibly be upsetting him? He had everything he wanted.”
The radio popped and hissed. A hesitant voice, thin and shaky, burst from the speakers, the vowels stretched between tentative consonants. “Hello?”
This time she heard Sterling respond.
“What the hell?”
Her co-host crossed to the radio, lifted and shook it.
“Can you hear me?” The hazy voice increased in volume and intensity, then tapered off.
Sterling dropped the radio. “It must be picking up a local transistor or CB frequency nearby.”
“We hear you, George,” she assured him. “What do you need to tell us?”
“Can’t . . . project . . . long . . .”
“He’s weakened. Too weak to effectively communicate this way. I need the Ouija board!”
“Then why did he have Faith turn on the radio in the first place?”
“He’s trying to get our attention,” she said. “Someone go get the planchette from Faith’s room! Where did you guys hide the board?”
Faith remained silent, vacant stare in her eyes.
Rebecca looked horrified. “We didn’t—”
“Is that demon board still in my house somewhere, young lady?” Daniel’s booming voice seemed to shake the walls.
Ruth laid her hands on his arms. “Daniel, please calm—”
“It’s not here!” Rebecca cried. “Dakota took it back home!”
“Go get it!” She pointed to the front door. Her crew remained motionless. “Someone get the planchette from upstairs! TJ? Go get the board. Rebecca can show you which house.”
TJ glanced at Michael.
Sterling had picked up the radio and turned it over and over in his shaking hands. Brow furrowed, he mumbled to himself. Everyone eyed her warily, as if she’d lost her mind.
What was wrong with them? This was it. They’d been hoping for a break and here it was. One of the ghosts wanted to communicate with her. George had used the Ouija board before and probably felt most comfortable with that medium.
“Kimmy.” Her director cleared his throat. “It’s nearly eleven o’clock at night. We can’t go pounding on neighbors’ doors. You know that.”
“But . . . he’s trying to tell us something! This could be the break I need.”
She heard a distant lub-dub from somewhere in the house. The planchette called to her, pulsing with a message.
“Kimmy, we’re not—”
“Then get the planchette and some paper!”
“What kind of—”
“Any blank paper! Hurry! We don’t have much time.”
She saw Michael gesture to TJ, who turned and ran upstairs. She grabbed her quartz and breathed deeply, taking control of her emotional state, forcing focus and calm. She must not lose control while operating the Ouija board.
Ruth left and returned with a sheet of copy paper.
Kimberly sat at the dining table and rotated the paper to a landscape position. “I need a pencil or pen.”
Elise held out a pen.
“Thank you.” She started in the top corners, scribbling the words YES and NO before transcribing the alphabet, the numbers one through nine plus a zero, and then the word GOODBYE below that. Familiar enough with Ouija boards to create her own, the facsimile was not bad at all. The spacing was a little off but it would do.
In fact, it was good enough to offend Daniel.
“I don’t want that in my house,” he insisted.
“It’s a piece of paper with writing on it,” Sterling said. “What could you possibly object to?”
“The writing is the important part. Just like the Bible is sacred and precious with the word of God, this paper is now contaminated with evil. It’s used in occult practices. Good intentions or no, I must insist.”
He reached for the paper. Kimberly crossed her arms and leaned forward protectively, shielding the paper.
“This piece of paper can’t hurt you,” Sterling insisted. “Let her do her bit.”
“Daniel.” Ruth’s voice held a steely edge that Kimberly hadn’t heard from the woman before. “Faith needs us to be strong right now. Whatever it takes. We invited Ms. Wantland into our home to help us. I believe she can. We can’t stand in her way. If she needs to do this, we need to trust God will protect us and step back.”
“Where has trusting God gotten us so far?” Daniel asked, his voice shaking. “Where is He while my daughter fights a demon?”
“That’s why He sent us Kimberly. Because He knew we couldn’t fight this alone.” Ruth rested a hand on Kimberly’s shoulder. “Lord, guide Ms. Wantland as she seeks to help our daughter, Faith. Give her strength to use the gift you saw fit to grant her and to drive out the evil that has taken hold in our home. In your name, amen.”
As murmured amens echoed the prayer closing, warm energy flowed through her.
She could do this.
TJ placed the planchette in the center of her homemade board.
She looked around the room at all the eyes on her. Grasping her quartz, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, clearing her thoughts and emotions. Only an empty vessel could effectively channel a spirit while remaining in control.
“Who will operate the board with me?” No one answered. She looked around the room. “No one?”
“My family and I will not participate.” Daniel’s tone told her arguing would be pointless. “I’ll allow you to use it, but we will not involve ourselves.”
“Fair enough. Guys?” She looked to her crew. “Don’t all volunteer at once. Really? Sterling? This is your chance to not only witness but experience paranormal phenomenon firsthand.”
“After all, it’s only a piece of paper. Right?” Daniel said.
Sterling glanced at Daniel before answering. “What do I do?”
She took the paper in one hand, the planchette in the other, and settled in the living room floor, legs crossed. “Sit here. Close. Mirror me.”
He lowered himself but remained about a foot away.
“Close. Our knees need to touch to support the letter board. Actually, this paper is so flimsy we need—”
Elise thrust a clipboard at her. “This should do it.”
“Thanks, Elise.” She wiggled forward a bit more and held her fingers above the planchette. “Okay, Sterling, we will rest our fingers along the edge like this. Don’t apply pressure and don’t push it. Don’t say anything. Try not to think negative thoughts. You don’t need to believe. Just be blank.”
“Be careful,” Rebecca said. “Please.”
“It’s just a piece of paper,” Sterling muttered.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to center herself. “George? We’re here. We’re listening.”
Nothing happened. The planchette remained still.
“George, Faith says you want to tell us something.”
She glanced at the girl, rooted in place, vacant eyes staring at nothing. The girl seemed to be fighting back, her head turned toward them. Perhaps she had felt the spirit’s hold on her weaken.
Refocusing on the makeshift Ouija board, she tried again. “George, we’re trying to figure out what happened here. We want to help. I saw that you were hanged.”
She felt an electric charge from the planchette buzz through her fingers. The plastic piece shimmied, then drifted in an arc across the paper, stopping on the word YES.
Sterling’s eyes lifted to meet her gaze. “I’m barely touching this thing.”
“I know. Don’t freak out on me.”
“I never freak out.”
She hoped that was true. “George, is James in the house with us?”
The planchette slid away from and then back to YES.
“Did the Ouija board release his spirit?”
YES
“Why is James here, George?”
R-E-B-E-C-C-A
She heard Rebecca gasp. “Why? Why me?”
“But he’s making Faith sick,” she said. “Why is he hurting the family?”
R-E-B-E-C-C-A
“But I didn’t do anything!” Rebecca insisted.
“What did Rebecca do, George?”
M-I-N-E
“What?” Rebecca said. “What does that mean? I didn’t do anything.”
“Did you move the doll, George?”
YES
“Why did you move it?”
M-I-N-E
“Who is yours, George?”
R-E-B-E-C-C-A
“What did you do, Rebecca?” Daniel demanded.
“Nothing! I—I played the Ouija board with Dakota! But I didn’t think anything would happen!”
F-A-I-T-H
R-U-T-H
Daniel moved closer. “That’s enough! He’s threatening my family. He’s clearly the one who’s been molesting my wife and daughters at night.”
NO
“Kimmy?” Michael’s voice broke through the chatter. “You got this? What’s happening?”
“Are you saying all the women are yours, George?”
YES
This wasn’t going at all as she expected. She’d been so sure she had it mostly figured out, that James was the one causing harm. But as the girls had reported, George seemed fixated on them.
“George, we don’t understand.”
“I think we understand plenty,” Daniel said.
W-A-N-T R-E-B-E-C-C-A
“That’s enough!” Daniel yelled. “I want this disgusting thing out of my house!”
S-A-F-E
“Wait!” Kimberly yelled. “We’re missing something!”
“He wants me safe?” Rebecca asked. “I didn’t . . . we didn’t . . . let him finish, I guess. I thought he meant . . .”
“You want Rebecca safe?”
YES
Footsteps thumped above them.
“What is that?” Michael asked.
She turned her attention from the board and listened. “Sounds like footsteps.”
“From upstairs?” Michael asked. “No one is up there.”
She quickly confirmed his assessment, taking a headcount. All the family and all her crew remained in the living room.
“Is that coming from the attic?” TJ asked. “That’s where something bit me.”
“It’s probably a squirrel,” Sterling suggested.
“Dude! That does not sound like a squirrel,” TJ said.
“We’re all here,” Ruth repeated. “What could it be?”
She watched everyone duck and flinch as the thumping increased in volume and intensity.
“No one is up there!” Sterling said.
Movement from the planchette drew her attention back to the Ouija board.
W-A-N-T T-H-E-M S-A-F-E
S-A-F-E
H-E I-S C-O-M-I-N-G
“Mommy!” Faith cried out suddenly. “He’s coming! He’s back!”
Ruth raced to her daughter’s side. “What is it, baby?”
Kimberly watched the girl quake in fear.
Ruth looked to her helplessly, as she held the girl close. “She hasn’t called me ‘Mommy’ in years.”
“He’s coming!” the girl repeated.
H-E I-S C-O-M-I-N-G
The radio blared static as lights blinked on and off.
The footsteps thumped closer, sounding as if someone ran down the hall of the second floor.
K-E-E-P T-H-E-M S-A-F-E
She watched the board spell, and something clicked. She knew what she needed to do, knew what George asked of her. “Sterling, let go!”
As the footsteps thumped down the stairs, she threw the board to the side and jumped to her feet.
She saw him. A bright manifestation of James from her vision of the past. Though gauzy and translucent, she recognized him. The same cruel smile cut across his face. His eyes homed on Faith, who seemed rooted to the spot, terror in her eyes.
“Leave her alone!” She crossed the room and jumped in front of Faith, shielding the girl from the spirit, opening all of her senses to envelop him.
She seized under the impact, muscles paralyzed by the sudden incursion. James’ memories played vividly across her mind. She saw him hang George and felt him delight in the triumph of the moment. She experienced blood-curdling fury and watched him beat Rebecca mercilessly, felt the jarring impact of each blow. He took her for his bride, longing for the town’s approval while still furious with her. He drank to excess. He frequented the town’s brothel, abusing the women there too. All quietly, hiding his dark side from the town, so they wouldn’t know their sheriff was not the man of God he pretended to be on Sundays. She watched Rebecca scream in agony during childbirth, saw the newborn. Drank deeply from a whiskey bottle. Rage and images of George filled her mind.
She understood. She knew. And she’d seen all she could stomach. She attempted to sever the connection with James, but he fought back. He showed her more and more, apparently aware how much it disturbed her—and delighting in it. He enjoyed inflicting pain. He refused to release her. Psychically, she wrestled with him, pushing him away. When she felt his hold weaken slightly, she gave one huge push, forcing him out, closing the connection.
She fell to the ground, panting and nauseous.
Rosie and Michael knelt beside her.
As she fought to catch her breath, she looked up at Ruth. “Have you ever had a DNA test?”