"Anything is possible. You guys know that," I said with a faint, friendly smile. "But let's give it a try anyway. Then maybe we should tackle some EVPs. You know, on second thought, why don’t you take the pictures with my phone and I’ll stand on the porch. I think the person in the picture is a little taller than me but we'll see how this works. You’d be too tall.”
“Roger that,” Joshua said as he took my place and Bruce stood poised beside him with his expensive camera. Stepping out onto the porch, I glanced around hoping I wouldn’t spot Evan Madison again. Nope. He was gone. I posed on the porch but it was difficult to see inside. These windows needed a good cleaning, I thought as I hovered around the edge of the porch. I moved around in different positions as Josh took pictures.
I stepped back inside and again felt an odd chill. I closed and locked the door behind me eager to see how those photos turned out. “Any luck? Do I look like an angry skeleton?”
“Uh, not a skeleton but this is weird. Hold on a second, you take a look for yourself.”
“What? Did we catch an image?” I asked curiously as she handed me the phone. “You’re freaking me out, Joshua McBride.” Bruce was peering into his camera but he wasn’t sharing either.
I tapped on the phone screen to blow up the image.
I wasn’t there.
Chapter Seven--Sierra
“That’s not something you see every day. How can we account for the absence of my image? That’s not possible, as far as I know. You should see me or some part of me. My head, my arm. At least a shadow or something, right?” I stared at the strange photo. Just thinking about this made me sick. Yeah, that was true. Sick and queasy. I did not wish to make a big deal out of it but this strange photo bothered me. This activity felt personal.
“Why don’t you try it, Joshua? You step out on the porch and let me take your picture.”
“Sure,” he agreed sunnily as he exchanged places with me. Bruce and I took pictures of the porch without Joshua and then with my husband posing at and then near the window. It only took a few seconds to discover that the phenomenon was completely isolated to my reflection. We couldn’t replicate it and even Bruce gave it a shot.
“This is crazy. Do you think someone or something could be manipulating the photograph? Is this possible? Maybe I should go back out there. But then again…” I shivered at this. “This is giving me the creeps, y’all.”
Bruce’s bushy eyebrows lifted dramatically. "Perhaps we should stick to the original task--debunking the apparition. I had a chance to read your write up and Bonita Hutchinson’s report is slightly different from Britney’s. In Bonita’s report, the woman in the mirror was on the opposite side that would be the left side. This entity, if that’s the title we’re going with can move. It’s not stationary. It’s probably not residual."
“Which begs the question, where did this mirror come from? Is it original to Brady Hall? And not to be an asshole but do you think these ladies are trying to pull a fast one here?" Joshua examined the mirror with a flashlight. “I don’t want to believe that but it is very possible. We’ve seen firsthand here today that not everyone is turned off if they think a property might be haunted. That could actually be a selling point.”
I rolled my eyes at that idea. "Not a chance. Bonita wants to sell this house and I don’t think she’d lie about it. She was terrified. Really terrified, Joshua. She confessed to urinating on herself. That’s not something you do unless it really happened. Let's do some EMF readings around the mirror and in this room and maybe try some EVP work. Bruce, will you catch that light, please?"
The three of us went into dark mode and got to work. The EMF didn’t register much of anything and we spent a good hour in the dark moving around in different locations. We took turns sitting in the chair, on the sofa and even on the floor. Our initial reviews of the audio recording provided nothing. No clues at all. There was a possibility that a later review of the audio would reveal evidence but at the moment, we had nothing to go on. I was beginning to wonder if maybe this thing had vacated the building. There were plenty of places to go. Supposedly, this room was the hotspot for the activity, but so far, we were striking out, except for my odd photos. I was all for trying that again. I needed to try it again; just to be sure it wasn’t coming after me. That happened sometimes. Negative spirits love harassing the living that saw them. Often just for funsies but it was never fun when you were the focus of a paranormal attack.
As the three of us pondered our next step Helen's voice came over the walkie-talkie. She wasn't that far away; the kitchen was just two rooms over and the sound of her voice in my ear and on the microphone gave it an odd stereo effect.
"I think you guys should come to see this. We have activity on the second floor."
I followed Bruce and Joshua back to the kitchen. When we stepped into the kitchen I could see Helen's face just a few inches from the monitor. She was staring hard at whatever it was she’d spotted. “Good eye, Helen. What do you have?”
"Temperature fluctuations. Multiple temperature fluctuations. They came out of the rooms and converged in the hallway and then disappeared. It was unnerving. I know we recorded it all but I’m not sure how to loop it back. Joshua, can you do the looping thing? It happened really quickly and it only lasts a few seconds, but it was definitely multiple targets."
“Sure, no problem,” Joshua leaned over her and clicked on the mouse and the video began to play. One second the hallway was empty, and the next there were multiple blobs of color. And then it was empty again. It reminded me of a weather man’s radar when pop up summer storms appeared. Suddenly red, suddenly green, suddenly gone. And Helen was right, all the anomalies had gathered in the hallway and then sailed off-camera where we couldn’t see them, seemingly towards the staircase. I left the others alone as I traveled to the bottom of the stairs with a flashlight in hand. Nothing at all. I took a few steps up the staircase but that queasy feeling hit me again.
Yuck. Okay, whatever you are, back the hell up.
I left the staircase and went back to the kitchen. “See anything?” Joshua asked hopefully.
“Nope. Let’s see it again, please.” I watched the footage again and again. It was bizarre. It was as if one minute there was nobody there and in the next three—no, make that four anomalies invaded the space and quickly vanished.
Bruce said in an excited voice, "Would you mind playing that again? Maybe slow it down a bit more?"
“Here, you take the com, Joshua.” Helen slid out of the chair and Josh slid in it. Within a few seconds, my husband had pulled up the clip again and was playing it at a super slow speed. It was Helen that began deciphering shapes first. She picked up her pencil and pointed at the screen. “That looks like a man’s head and shoulders. See how it takes shape before it leaves the screen? It’s as if they were formulating as they hit the staircase. I count four entities. It is clearly something with strange heat patterns. Not a living person and it can’t be bugs or drafts. Everything is locked down here. We checked all that. I am sure of it.” Helen’s rare excitement surprised me but she was right. It couldn’t be anything else except what we believed it was--ghosts!
Bruce suggested we continue on. “Let’s strike while the iron is hot! Helen, let’s head upstairs and take a look around. We should probably start on the staircase since that’s where we assume they went. Now would be the time to try some EVPs too, I think.”
“I’m going too,” Joshua announced as he reached for the SLS. He smiled at me as I frowned.
Shoot. Last man out. Again. This must be how Midas felt on these investigations when we all volunteer to go do into the dark, spooky rooms. We are a bunch of crazy people.
“I’ll keep an eye on you guys. Get up there!” I surrendered to their excitement. Honestly, I wanted to race up those steps myself but as I reminded everyone all the time, Gulf Coast Paranormal was a team. I couldn’t take over every aspect of the investigation. Even though I was truly Miss Bossy Pants. Joshua nailed me wi
th that nickname on our first date.
As soon as they stepped out of the room, I followed their movements on the monitors. Bruce was leading the way with his night vision camera. Helen was right behind him holding her digital recorder and an EMF detector while Joshua brought up the rear with the SLS. I tapped on the keyboard so I could see firsthand exactly what it was Joshua was seeing. If anything. I reminded myself to be quiet but the tension was so thick that you could practically cut it with a knife. I reached for my walkie-talkie but thought better of it. Those guys knew what they were doing. They didn't need me to armchair coach them. The trio of investigators paused on the stairs.
"Starting the EVP session now. Joshua, Helen, and Bruce on the staircase of Brady Hall right after witnessing those anomalies on the screen. Hi. My name is Helen and these are my friends Joshua and Bruce. We are not here to bother anyone. We certainly don't want to scare you, but Bonita invited us to come and talk to you. You may not know this but you scared her in the downstairs mirror and you scared Britney too.”
In this case, I was pretty certain this entity knew what it was doing.
Not a sound was detected. Helen kept going. “Are you trying to scare people? Are you there? Make a sound so I know that you can hear me. Can you knock on a wall?" Helen stayed in place as Bruce moved ahead to the upstairs hallway with his infrared. Josh remained standing in one position near the stairs. Nothing was mapping on his SLS. Not a dang thing. But the lurching in my stomach told me that we were onto something.
Something was about to happen.
Remember to breathe, Sierra Kay. They are more afraid of you than you are of them.
“Right, sure,” I whispered to myself as I took a few even breaths. I can’t say why but I kept glancing at the kitchen doorway. Were my eyes playing tricks on me again? Were the shadows actually moving? I swear I’d seen a person-sized shadow moving earlier. Moving and shifting.
Helen kept going like a true trooper. “I was downstairs a few minutes ago and I saw you moving around up here. All of you. Are you friends? Is this your family? What are you doing up here? Can you tell me your name? We don't want to hurt you. We really want to help.” Helen was in the hallway now, standing approximately where the largest anomaly had been spotted earlier. She paused and tapped Bruce’s shoulder as she stared straight ahead. From my vantage point, I couldn’t see very much but I strained to try and see something.
Anything.
"Did you guys see that? A tiny white light zipped from that door to that door." I hadn't caught it, but that didn't mean Helen didn't see it. It was hard to capture orbs and lights on the camera. Capturing real evidence was a game of chance.
"Keep going, Helen." I heard Bruce encourage her as he put his camera down and stared into the darkness. Sometimes your eyes were the best tools to use but we needed evidence. The senses were powerful if we paid attention to them. Human beings came equipped with danger sensors. Most people ignored them. Until it was too late.
"What do you want? Are you stuck here? Are you the same person who Bonita and Britney saw in the mirror? Do you need help?" I briefly caught a blip on Joshua's display but it was gone as fast as I could blink. Not enough footage to capture or record and study.
I reached for the walkie-talkie to offer some suggestions when a loud crashing sound from the front room startled me. Had the mirror fallen off the wall? I was on my feet, my hand over my heart in shock. I expected my fellow investigators to come barreling down the steps and when they didn’t I tapped on the radio. I took a few hesitant steps toward the doorway that led to the parlor but my feet did not want to make that trip. The queasiness returned and I detected a sour smell.
No, not sour. Rotten. It smelled rotten. Like decomposition.
Oh hell.
"Joshua? Did you hear that? Where are you?"
"Hear what?"
I took a deep breath and walked towards the parlor. There was no time to wait.
Chapter Eight--Cassidy
Midas had kindly offered to pick up dinner. I wasn’t up to hanging out in a restaurant tonight, even though the scenery in Gulf Shores was completely amazing. There was something so refreshing about being close to the ocean. I didn’t plan beach trips nearly enough. I took a morning run along the shore before the festival and found it completely invigorating. I wasn’t exactly running on all six cylinders yet, that surgery had taken it out of me, but I made slow progress. No marathons for a while but in a few months, I’d definitely be competing again.
Midas supported me in my physical fitness journey, but recently I got the feeling that he’d be just as happy if I gave up sketching, painting and drawing altogether. Paranormally speaking. He didn’t seem to understand that I didn’t really have a choice in the matter. Especially now, after twenty-five plus investigations. My work with Gulf Coast Paranormal had left me extremely open to the Other Side, probably too open if Midas was to be believed. I loved that he cared about me but I didn’t like the feeling that he thought I couldn’t handle myself. Granted, I should have stepped back on the Oakleigh case but other than that I’d been just fine. Mostly.
Which brought me back to the moment. I only had a little while before Midas returned with our chow. I tossed around the idea of showing him my sketch but voted that down. Not just yet. We’d had such a great time here at the Gulf Shores Art Festival that I didn’t want to dampen his mood. And it had been so romantic. I hated for that to end because he was so happy, but the Other Side was reaching out to me. I suspected that the team was working on a case; Midas was the worst at trying to be covert with a phone call.
Another reason to love him.
The investigation could be the reason why these images were showing up in my mind. It didn’t normally happen unless we were working to help a client. Why wouldn’t he tell me about it? I couldn’t say but eventually, we’d have to talk about this. I took my small sketchbook out of my backpack and opened it to my work in progress. This face, as normal as it looked, was the face of a killer.
A crazy person. Why do they always have to be crazy?
A murderess. She hadn’t just been fantasizing about killing her lover, she’d done it. I could feel her gleefulness. She was so happy that she’d done what she’d set out to do. Oh, and so much more. So much more.
Over the past year, no make that two years, I’d learned to follow my intuition with my art. By doing so, I had come into contact with a variety of dead. In some cases not dead, but missing. Oh, but some of them have been nothing short of crazy. Like the woman from the Crescent Theater--Estella Winters had been her name. Why was I thinking about her? I shook my head at the memory of that case.
I put the sketchbook on the small dining table and turned the light on. I snapped a picture of this mystery woman and sent it to Sierra along with a message.
Whatever you’re doing, be careful. She’s watching you, Sierra.
Even as I typed, I knew it was true. Absolutely true. Sierra faced danger, and maybe not just her. She didn’t text me back immediately, but she eventually sent me a smiley face along with a thanks. My thumbs hovered over the keyboard. Should I ask her for details? Better not. I decided to give Midas a chance to tell me what was up. He needed to do that. I put my sketch away and answered a few emails and a phone call from a patron. It was incredible how many people loved my art. Not my paranormal artwork, nobody got to see those pieces but the team. They were too precious and personal. My patrons loved my stills and scenes of life. Tomorrow is the last day of the festival and although I was glad I’d come, I would also be glad to get home.
I missed my cat Domino and my bed.
Midas sent me a text. He was on the way back but decided to make a pit stop, some sort of surprise for me. I couldn’t imagine what that could be but I was certainly curious. And also, very unsettled.
Very. Unsettled.
I took the sketchbook out of the bag and reached for my denim pencil bag. I didn’t even care which one I grabbed. I had to start on this new sketch. This would
n’t be the same subject. This other girl--I didn’t get her name but I knew her face well--had deep-set eyes and thick eyebrows. By today’s standards, she would be considered plain but she believed herself to be quite beautiful. And the man she’d been involved with thought she was something quite special. At least for a little while. Even as he rejected her, he considered her quite the prize. But that was all she was…a prize.
Enough about her.
This other woman, slightly older than the first, was thinner with a narrow face. Her brown eyes were almond-shaped, only slightly tilted, like a wolf’s and her eyebrows were naturally thin. She had pallid skin, colorless and slightly greasy as if she’d not quite removed all her cold cream. Her eyes had that odd shine of brilliance. The kind of shine you see when someone has an idea that could change the world. Or one that could burn it down.
Elizabeth. That was her name.
And she had a brilliant mind. Elizabeth was much more than people saw, she had a way with words and numbers. All these thoughts came to me as I sketched the lines of her brows, her slender jawline, and her ear. She did not like her ears very much but it was the fashion to show your earlobes with an upswept bun.
Thank goodness Rebecca didn’t have her ears. Rebecca had been a beautiful child. But nobody knew about Rebecca. Elizabeth’s daughter remained her own treasure, her own secret. Nobody would ever know what had happened.
As I drew, a tear streamed down my face. Oh, the sadness. So sad. And not only about Rebecca. Sad over her husband, and her first husband and the other one and the life she’d lost.
Adeo, yes, that’s his name. A-day-oh. He thought he knew her but he never really did. He couldn’t begin to grasp any of it.
My fingers began to shake. No. I have to stop. Midas will be back soon! Midas will return and I don’t want him to catch me sketching. He will worry over it and discourage me but I have to keep going. I reached for a different pencil as I wiped the salty tears off my face.
The Spirits of Brady Hall Page 5
