“Danielle says the doctor has diagnosed this as SIDS. He says it’s lucky the baby was discovered not breathing as quickly as he was, so they could resuscitate. Right now, they’re predicting no brain damage or anything. You’re a hero, Kimmy.”
“I’m anything but. I promised you I’d keep this family safe. I can’t believe I let the spirit get her hands on the baby. It was the most horrible thing I’ve ever seen in my life. She intended to choke that baby to death. Strangle it. I just can’t—” She shuddered, and a chill passed through her. She wrapped her arms around herself.
Rosie draped a blanket around her and pressed a warm mug into her hands. “Drink some tea. That always helps. You overloaded your chakra sources, and I had to drain some of the energy away. Since you were unconscious, it was difficult to know when to stop. I hope I didn’t draw away too much.”
“I’m okay. Or I will be once I clear Edna Miller from this house.”
“What do you mean?” Michael asked. “You overpowered her. She’s gone now, right?”
“No. She dissipated after I drained her, but she didn’t leave. She’s still here. So the disturbance isn’t resolved. I have to convince her to go. For good.”
Michael hung his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I thought we were done. And you’re in no shape to wrangle with this again.”
“I have to. This ends tonight. I can’t risk the family returning home with her here waiting.”
“What do you plan to do?” Rosie asked. “And how can I help?”
“You got your big finale,” Sterling said. “There’s no reason to continue the charade. The family isn’t even here. You got your big standoff with the ghost. Lots of drama. You even get to end the show by telling your audience you saved a baby’s life. I can’t imagine a more compelling season finale than that. Why do you think you need to shoot more? You need to rest. And possibly go to a doctor. Let me drive you to the ER and get checked out instead of continuing on with this foolishness.”
She really didn’t have the strength to argue with him. And yet he had a knack for getting under her skin. “None of this has ever been a charade. I know, you won’t believe me no matter what I say. But the baby was not a victim of SIDS. The spiritual remains of Edna Miller are still in this house. She never left. She’s fixated on the children. Until she goes, the family won’t be safe. She will try again when they return. When we aren’t here to stop her.”
“Spiritual remains?” Sterling said. “Ick. I think I prefer the term ghost.”
“Okay, Ms. Miller’s ghost is still in the house. And I need to help her translocate. I’m not quite sure how to convince her to come back and connect with me. The baby and toddler aren’t here anymore.” She thought for a moment. “Elise, what else did you learn during your research? About the Millers, I mean.”
“Let me grab my folder.” Elise bolted from the room.
Sterling shook his head. “You are stubborn as a pit bull, I’ll give you that.”
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t really a compliment, but you’re welcome. One last-ditch effort. Will you please let me drive you to the ER?”
“Later. After the disturbance is cleared.”
He held up a little finger and crooked it at her. “Pinkie promise?”
“Um . . . here’s Elise! What do you have, Elise?”
“Starting with the obvious, she liked teaching. So I think it’s safe to assume she could respond to kids’ school supplies like crayons—”
“Drew’s drawings,” she interrupted, snapping her fingers. “Drew’s drawings of her.”
Elise nodded. “Perfect. Let me see. Married to Dale Miller for sixty-two years. They asked her about her favorite things for the article. Favorite color, purple. Favorite food, chocolate milkshake, just like the soda jerk used to make. Favorite drink, vanilla Coke, just like the soda jerk used to make. Favorite pastime, crocheting baby blankets. She says, ‘I sure wish I had some grandbabies to make them for. But I don’t. And pretty soon arthritis will put an end to it anyway.’”
Rosie sniffed. “This is so sad.”
“Then this will really get you,” Elise continued. “Favorite song, ‘It’s Only a Paper Moon.’ ‘That was our wedding song. Dale used to sing it to me. And he told me life would always be grand as long as I believed in him. And it has been. We may only have a paper moon and a cardboard sea, but I believe in him, and he believes in me.’”
They all sat in silence until Sterling spoke.
“And you think the ghost of that sweet woman tried to kill a baby? Leave the medical diagnosis alone and let’s wrap.”
“She’s confused and lonely and afraid. She’s forgotten who she was. Her husband of over sixty years moved away, leaving her alone in an empty house. Don’t you see? This is all the more reason to help.” She looked at Rosie. “That’s it. That’s how to draw her out and get her to connect with me. And hopefully let me help her. I’m sure it will work. Sterling, you’re a genius.”
“What? What did I do? I didn’t say anything about talking to a ghost.”
“Rosie, bring all the lavender candles from the makeup trailer. Those are purple, her favorite color.”
Sterling tried again. “Whatever idea you’ve had, it wasn’t mine. I said leave it alone. Not talk to a ghost.”
“Elise, we need the yarn again. And any crocheted blankets you can find.”
Elise dashed to the hallway.
“Michael, I doubt you can find a milkshake or vanilla Coke at two in the morning. Can you gather Drew’s drawings, crayons, any other art supplies you can find?”
“Sure thing!” He flashed a thumbs-up.
Sterling stared at her. “Want to let me in on the plan? Which is not my plan. Just saying. I mean, I don’t even know what it is.”
“I’ll show you. Come with me. Let’s see if your three a.m. charm helps today.”
34
Kimberly sat cross-legged on the floor of the master bedroom. Lavender candles burned around her, soothing and relaxing. And purple. Crayons, safety scissors, coloring books, and Drew’s drawings lay scattered about the floor. Skeins of yarn sat beside a few crocheted baby blankets on the bed. “It’s Only a Paper Moon” played on loop from her cell phone. The newspaper article detailing Edna Miller’s interview during her retirement party rested on the floor beside her.
She had drunk so much of Rosie’s fortifying tea, she thought she might float away. Rosie had massaged aromatic oils into her skin. She breathed deeply and felt calm, collected, at ease with the world. She could do this.
Her crew arrayed behind her, ready to assist however possible. Stan and TJ stood on opposite sides of the room, cameras ready. A black box with coils hummed softly by the wall, electricity arcing from coil to coil with an occasional buzz.
Sterling sat on the bed facing her, watching her. Although his gaze prompted butterflies, she did her best to push aside the fluttery emotions and focus on only Edna Miller. At least Sterling maintained a positive attitude. She needed to prohibit all negativity tonight.
She breathed deeply and closed her eyes, one hand curled around her quartz crystal. She also wore blue turquoise and jade to help boost her communication and heart chakras. But the quartz remained most important. That one honed her psychic energy and focused it while connecting.
“Why do you grab that necklace?” Sterling asked. “Nervous habit?”
“No,” she answered, eyes still closed. “It helps me focus my energy while I interact with spiritual entities. Gives my abilities a boost, as it were.”
“How do you think that stone affects your energy? I’m pretty sure there’s no science behind that.”
“Shhhh. I need to focus right now.”
“Right. Okay.”
She heard him crack his knuckles but disregarded that, breathing in the soothing lavender scent surrounding her. She imagined herself floating and envisioned the energy of her chakras spinning and growing, traveling into the world around her. She t
hought she felt a nudge of a response but didn’t push. She needed to allow Edna to come to her tonight.
“What is that thing?” Sterling asked.
She took another deep breath. “What thing?”
“That black boxy thing by the wall. With wires and gizmos sparking blue arcs periodically. Is it a giant lighter?”
“No, silly. That’s the SEEPS. Stands for Spectral-Enhancing Energy Power Source. Think of it as a ghost charger. I drained Edna earlier to take control of the situation and save Josh. Now she’s weak. I’m offering her a way to recharge quickly so I can communicate with her.”
“I don’t believe you interacted with a ghost at all. But in your scenario, you thought she managed to power herself before. Why can’t she do that again?”
“Michael threw the breaker on the security system. No power to it. The SEEPS gives off a steady but lower-energy frequency. She won’t be able to get out of control this time.”
“You really believe this, don’t you?”
She heard no hostility in the question, only curiosity. “Of course. It’s true. Why wouldn’t I believe it?”
“Electric-powered ghosts, huh? Eco-friendly?” He laughed at his own joke. “And how do you suppose that happens? They just absorb it and . . . ?”
She beamed at him. “You have the right idea. A strong power source draws residual entities. Without a body to protect, power, and nourish it, the spirit remains weak and helpless. A displaced spirit often feels vulnerable. And scared. Imagine how you’d feel if you were ripped suddenly from your body. But if a spirit can draw power from an energy source, it can manifest and potentially interact with the world around it again. Mrs. Miller has learned to do that. She can leave EVP, ruffle your hair, and unfortunately she’s strong enough to choke me and attempt to strangle the baby.”
“But when the body dies, that’s it. There isn’t anything else. When I die, I die. I will be gone.”
She cocked her head at him. “Says the good Irish Catholic. What about your soul? Which is just another word for spirit, you know. Don’t you believe you have a soul?”
“Sure. But that goes to heaven or wherever after death.”
She pointed at him. “Aha. So you do believe in other worlds. Other planes of existence. We just call them different things.”
“Whatever. If you want to believe that, go ahead. But I don’t believe in ghosts. When we die, we die, and nothing remains behind.”
“Except sometimes the process doesn’t work quite right. That’s when—”
The SEEPS crackled and beeped.
She snapped her head. “Here she is.”
“EMF approaching one hundred,” Elise said.
“Kimmy, we’re detecting a cold spot forming to your right.”
The conversation would have to wait. She closed her eyes again and cleared all thoughts but Edna Miller. The world around her melted to the background. Nothing mattered right now but clearing this house for the Williams family. The song began again, the upbeat rhythm drifting from her phone through the room.
Oh, it’s only a paper moon . . .
She took a deep breath. “Mr. Wakefield, please come sit in front of me on the floor.”
“On that candle? And burn my butt? I thought we’d arrived at a peace accord.”
She suppressed the giggle but allowed the smile he prompted. They needed a light, jovial atmosphere tonight, and she appreciated his presence more than ever.
“Push the candle aside, of course,” she directed him. “I’m not wishing injury on you. Just come join me on the floor, please.”
“Okay, what is happening here?” Sterling asked. “What’s with the weird voice? Is Kimberly possessed?”
“She’s in a meditative state, Sterling,” Michael answered, “so she can act as a medium for the spirit and help it transition to the next life. Please cooperate with her.”
TJ clicked his tongue. “Dude, you are such a douche. I am so glad this is the last night we have to put up with you.”
“TJ,” she admonished, keeping her voice calm and even, “you know we cannot have any negativity in the room right now. We don’t want to spook the spirit.”
A ripple of laughter ran through the crew. “Spook the spirit,” a few of them repeated.
“Wow. Ghost humor, huh?” Sterling said. “Feels like I’m on Scooby-Doo. Zoinks! Like, don’t spook the spook, Scoob!”
The crew giggled again. She opened her eyes and caught Sterling smiling at his own cleverness. Her chest swelled with delight. She’d missed that smirk. She liked seeing him at ease on her show.
He pushed the candle aside and grunted as he situated himself cross-legged in front of her. “I’m getting too old to sit like this. Why am I down here?”
“I need you to be my second. My anchor.”
He blinked and shook his head, brow furrowed. “Your what now?”
“If anything goes wrong—I don’t expect it to, but if it does—I need someone to keep me tethered here. Will you do it?”
. . . but it wouldn’t be make-believe if you believed in me.
Sterling’s eyes glowed in the candlelight. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “I don’t believe in other worlds or other dimensions or ghosts or spirits. But I know you do, and I’m honored you asked me to help you. Tell me what to do.”
She scooted forward so their knees touched, then took his hands in hers. His warm hands dwarfed hers. Did she imagine the electric jolt when they touched? She squashed a fresh round of butterflies as they danced through her stomach. Not the time.
“Whatever happens, don’t let go,” she instructed him.
Michael spoke, his voice grave. “Cold spot is approaching you, Kimmy.”
“I feel it.” She nodded to Sterling and closed her eyes. “Come join us, Mrs. Miller.”
The SEEPS beeped. Sterling jumped.
“It’s okay,” she said to reassure Mrs. Miller but also to let Sterling hear no fear in her voice. “We’re here to help you. Come see what the children drew for you.”
“EMF hovering around one twenty,” Elise told her.
“She’s powerful,” she said. “But that shouldn’t climb any higher now.”
A gust of wind blew through the room, extinguishing the candles, plunging the room into darkness.
“Who did that?” Sterling asked. “Is that the kid? TJ?”
“That’s our guest,” she assured him, squeezing his hands. “She’s looking around, trying to determine what’s happening. We have her attention.”
She opened her energy, inviting Mrs. Miller to focus on her, hoping to draw her attention. “Mrs. Miller, we know you got left alone when your husband, Dale, moved away. That must have been very scary for you. But I’m going to help you so you don’t have to be alone anymore.”
“Cold spot is by the crib, Kimmy.”
“Drew and Josh aren’t here, Mrs. Miller. I know you loved children, but you can’t have these. They need to stay with their mother.”
Another chilly gust set her hair blowing. The song continued to play. The yarn skeins shifted. One of them slowly unspooled, the blue yarn piling in a tangled mess on the floor.
“Do you remember crocheting?” she asked. “Remember making baby blankets?”
“How are you doing that?” Sterling asked. “Fishing line? Someone in the crew has the other end?”
“No, Mr. Wakefield. Nothing on my show is a cheap parlor trick or an illusion like your magic tricks. I know you normally debunk paranormal claims, but I’m telling you tonight you are encountering the real thing.”
One of the folded baby blankets fell from the bed to the floor. The drawings fluttered. The volume increased on her phone until the song blared.
. . . but it wouldn’t be make-believe if you believed in me.
She raised her voice to be heard over the music. “Do you remember Dale, Mrs. Miller? Think back to before. Before you got left behind. Do you remember your husband?”
The breeze died away. The
drawings settled and remained still. The music softened, returning to the quiet background level she’d originally set it at.
No one spoke. The SEEPS crackled.
Sterling looked around the room. “Is that it? End of the show? Is she gone now?”
“No,” she whispered. “She’s here. I feel her.”
“You think you feel a ghost—”
“Shhhh. She’s thinking. Be still.”
“Kimmy, cold spot forming again. Immediately beside you.”
“It’s okay. She’s not angry. Let her come. This is what I hoped would happen.”
“Image on the FLIR,” TJ said. “This is awesome. I see her there.”
She saw Stan move closer with his camera.
The SEEPS sizzled.
Edna Miller materialized beside her, hovering in a seated position at her level.
35
Kimberly caught her breath. “She’s here. She’s with me.”
Sterling looked back and forth from her face to the area she saw Mrs. Miller. “I don’t see anything at all. You’re staring at empty space.”
“No. She’s here. I see her very clearly.”
The spirit’s face no longer possessed the hard, angry lines she’d seen previously. The countenance resembled the newspaper photograph.
She envisioned warm, soft light emanating from her heart, reaching out into the world, inviting the spirit to connect with her.
The spirit hesitated, perhaps shy or maybe simply scared.
“It’s okay,” she murmured. “I won’t hurt you. Let me help.”
She withdrew her right hand from Sterling’s warm grasp. When he balked at releasing her fingers, she squeezed tighter with her left hand. “Hold on to this one. I’ll be fine.”
She picked up the newspaper article and held it toward the spirit. “Do you remember your retirement party? You taught school for sixty years. That’s an incredible contribution. I know how much you loved children.”
The facial features softened. A pale appendage drifted toward her and curled around her hand, turning the article as if to read it.
Images of chalkboards, coloring pages, primary-color alphabets, and children flashed through her mind—none of them her own thoughts or memories. She’d finally fully connected with Edna Miller.
The Wantland Files Page 22
