Chapter Fourteen

"Please, sit down."

Ginger watched her brother motion for the nerve-wracked couple to take a seat at the same cheap folding table the group had gathered at during their initial client consultation. It was hard for her to believe they had gathered in this kitchen a mere week and a half prior; it seemed like two lifetimes had passed in that unbelievably short span of time, leaving those involved wrung out and bone weary, yet also exhilarated in some strange way.

Peter and Elizabeth Scott were finally gaining clarity over a big part of the whirlwind upheaval that, in less than two years' time, had turned their lives upside down. Chris was not only one step closer to helping yet another tormented family, but was on the verge of a case with the potential to skyrocket his career to the next level. Ginger felt the changes in herself most of all, for she truly believed herself to be the one who, of their group of five, had undergone the most radical transformation.

Adam was back in her life, and for once in their tumultuous association it looked like they had managed to get it right. She didn't know how they would live, what they would do, or even where they would live. Although, if she had to guess, he would continue to work at the factory, she would find a job, and they would live somewhere in Atlanta. In a few years, she might even go back to school for her Master's degree. Life was full of both possibility and routine, and suddenly she liked the idea of that just fine. Marriage. She thought she must have really gone around the bend, because she was even starting to reconsider her plan to make him sweat it out, whether or not she would say yes to his proposal. His formal proposal, she reminded herself, because he would have to ask her the right way. On that, she absolutely would not budge. She deserved a proper marriage proposal and that was that.

"Ginger?" Adam's voice broke into her private thoughts.

"Hmm…?" She glanced down to find him, and everyone else, already seated at the table.

"Are you going to sit down, or do you feel like standing?" Adam teased.

Chris smiled, bemused. "I don't know about the rest of these guys, but you're making me nervous, standing over us like that."

"Right, sorry."

"If we're all ready, I'd like to go over the files we've collected on this case. First, though, I would like to congratulate everyone on a job well done. A good investigation, a successful investigation, depends largely on the staff and even more so on the family involved. Mr. and Mrs. Scott, you have held up extremely well throughout this entire process."

"Thank you," Peter Scott acknowledged.

"That being said, I think it's time to go over a couple of key points on this case. After that, I'll go over our time line. I'll try not to take up too much of your day." He smiled.

"That's not a problem," Liz assured. "Peter's mother has the boys until late this afternoon. We have plenty of time."

"Fair enough. So, let's start with the pictures. In this folder here," he slid a manila envelope across the table, "I've organized all the images you and your husband have provided. I've noted the areas of concern and explained the notations on the index cards clipped to each photo. I made copies of course, two sets. One set goes to you, along with the originals. I retain the second set of copies, but I don't keep them. They go to the network. You've already signed releases authorizing the use of the photos, although you'll retain full rights to them. They'll remain your property. Any questions so far?"

"No."

"Okay, great. Now, this second file contains the photos that we've taken over the course of our investigation. We've went over several of these already, but there is one new image," he explained, digging into the envelope and rooting around until he found a photograph with an index card paper clipped to the front of it that read spectral apparition.

"What is it?" Liz frowned.

"This is the shadowy figure of what appears to be a woman, although really, it's difficult to tell gender. I'm basing that on the shape of the face, here." He pointed. "The figure was caught in still-frame photography and numerous video recordings, in different locations throughout the house."

"That's the little bedroom off the dining room, below the stairs," Peter breathed, eyes wide.

"Yes. She seems to be attracted, for lack of a better word, to Ginger. Six different video recordings, and this photo, have placed her outside the door, in the night, at whichever bedroom Ginger happens to be using."

"We rotate each night," Adam explained, his mouth tight as he stared hard at the photo on the table.

"Why Ginger?" Peter wanted to know.

"We don't know for certain, but if I had to guess, I'd say it's because she's a woman. It's possible the spirit, if it is in fact a woman, feels a connection to Ginger based on their mutual gender."

"Spirit? So it's a … spirit? Like a ghost?" Elizabeth's voice shook.

"I don't like to use the word ghost." Chris smiled, attempting to put the couple at ease. "But, yes, I think the word spirit is appropriate in this case. The apparition has shown remarkable cognitive function, considering."

"What does that mean?"

"It can identify Ginger as distinct and separate from the rest of us."

"Have you been hurt? Or scared?" Liz addressed the question directly to Ginger.

"I haven't been hurt. As for scared," she nodded, "I have had times where it's been a little unsettling, yes."

"I know the feeling." Liz sighed. "I'm sorry, please continue."

"You can stop me and ask questions or add things at any time," Chris told the couple before placing a third folder on the table between them. "But, moving along, this file contains all the video footage from our investigation."

Not all of it, Ginger thought, feeling her face heat.

"We captured the spectral image numerous times, along with several orb-like entities."

"Several? How many is several?"

"One taping shows four in one location, simultaneously."

"So, there are four of them?" Peter's hands clenched around the envelope of photos he had yet to put down.

"Spirits? Potentially, yes. Although, the woman is the only one who has shown herself in any other form. The videos are all copies, and subject to the same deal as the photographs. You retain the originals. Now, I'd like to go over the audio, if you don't mind."

"By all means." Liz waved her hand, sounding weak.

"I'm sorry. I know this is difficult for you both."

"No, it's okay. We need to know."

"If you both feel up to it, I would like to play a recording that was captured in the house."

"Ah…"

"If you need to take a break, it's okay." Chris kept his voice low and soft and soothing.

"You can play the tape," Liz said, leaning closer to her husband, who wrapped an arm around her stiff shoulders and nodded.

They were silent as Chris retrieved a small tape recorder from the cabinet above the sink, carefully set it on the middle of the table, and pressed the large square playback button.

Light static filled the kitchen, the faint noise sounding unnaturally loud in the tomb-like silence of the room. A faint scratching could be heard, followed by the soft but unmistakable sound of a woman singing. Ginger watched the color drain from Elizabeth's face. She knew the feeling. She was certain her own coloring was a particularly unbecoming shade of ashen, too. The recording was no less creepy the second time around.

"What's she singing?" Peter whispered.

"We don't know, but the tune sounds like an older one. It wasn't something any of us recognized."

"Oh, my God. What was that? Did she just speak?"

"I'll play it back, and yes." Chris rewound the tape and played it again. The room waited in silence through the chilling musical notes, each holding the breath in their lungs as the last strains of the song were sung. Then there it was, clear as a bell, the same strange tone as the ghostly crooner. She spoke.

"You have to come back. Wait."

Elizabeth gasped, her hand rising to her throat. Peter wrapped both arms around his trembling wife, pulling her chair closer to his own. Chris stopped the tape.

"This EVP was taken the night Ginger spent the evening with you, Elizabeth."

"Is there more?" Peter demanded, visibly shaken but holding up marginally better than Elizabeth.

"No, that was all. We caught some laughter and more scuffling sounds on the tapes, but I won't play those for you."

"Thank you."

"Would you like copies of the—"

"No," Peter interrupted. "You keep them."

"Fine." Chris nodded. "Now, I have two other matters to discuss with both of you, if you feel up to it."

"As long as you don't play that tape again." Liz tried to smile.

"Understandable," Chris acknowledged. "I'll give you the good news first. The network has agreed to foot the bill for our investigation, including any ongoing services associated with the case, in exchange for your story that we've been filming."

"That's wonderful news." Liz smiled, glancing at Ginger but not disclosing that she had already been told that bit of news.

"Do we have to grant future interviews?" Peter wanted to know.

"That's an excellent question, and no, you don't ever have to think about any of this again if you don't want to. Your address will be withheld from the public. Your legal names and your likenesses can also be edited out, if you prefer. When the program airs on national television, your faces can be blurred to protect your identity and privacy. Don't worry about that. That will be in writing, in the contract you'll sign when we leave here."

Ginger thought about asking if they could blur out her face as well, but decided to keep silent for the moment.

"Sounds good."

"The network has also agreed to pay you a stipend of twenty-five thousand dollars, for exclusive rights to the story—the interviews we've filmed and the evidence we have gathered."

"Did you say twenty-five thousand?" Liz's eyes goggled.

"Dollars?" Peter gasped.

"Hundred-dollar bills." Chris grinned. "Well, actually, it will be a check."

"But you can probably cash it in all hundred-dollar bills," Ginger added with a wide smile.

"I take it that's an acceptable figure?" Chris queried.

"Yes." Peter Scott blinked. "Twenty-five thousand dollars. I can't believe it."

"And now, if you're ready, I have some less pleasant matters to discuss." Chris winced.

"Okay," Liz said, glancing again at Ginger but remaining silent.

"A search of newspapers and court documents, going back one hundred and fifty years, has revealed a total of four deaths on this property."

"Four people have died in our house?" Peter asked, frowning.

"Yes, that we know of."

"Shouldn't they have to tell you about that sort of thing when you buy a house? Listen to me, of course they don't." Peter sighed. "That would be highly impractical, wouldn't it? I know people die, in their homes, usually, but it seems different in this case. Disturbing."

"Yes, I can see where it would. Now, two of the deaths are more recent. An elderly couple passed away on the property. They were the grandparents of the previous owners. The woman was found in the bedroom under the stairs, heart attack. The man passed away two years after his wife, in the smaller bedroom upstairs. They suspected he'd had a stroke, although an autopsy was never done, or if it was, we weren't able to find it."

"How did you find out where they … passed away? Which rooms, I mean."

"I was able to locate the original EMS reports."

"Aren't those supposed to be confidential?" Liz questioned.

"Yes. I had special clearance," Chris informed her, tactfully refraining from saying any more on the matter.

"I see." She nodded. "So … what kind of people were they?"

"That, I don't know. A background check didn't give us much on the couple. Married for fifty years, three children. He was an engineer for the city before he retired, and she was a homemaker." Chris shrugged. "Without interviewing family members, I would say they were probably a nice, older couple."

"And what about the other two?"

"A woman by the name of Annalise went missing from this house in the late eighteen hundreds," Chris told them, leaning forward. "Old newspaper clippings featured the story, and one police report gave us some bare-bones information on the case. The couple who owned the house from eighteen seventy-two to nineteen oh three reported a strange woman showing up on their doorstep late one January night. They said her name was Annalise. No last name was ever recorded. They suspected she was on the run from an abusive husband or other male relative, perhaps, as they claim she had some bruising on her face. She was a young woman with blonde hair and blue eyes. Apparently, the family granted her lodging for the night, but when they awoke the next morning they found small quantities of blood in the hallway, by the kitchen, and Annalise was nowhere to be found. The crime, or potential crime, was never solved. The mysterious Annalise was never found. At least, not that we are aware of. There was a lot of talk about foul play. The man of the house, Charles Switzer, was a suspect in the young woman's disappearance."

"The same man who took her in?"

"From all accounts, he was reputed to be a violent man," Chris confirmed.

"Wow. Okay, so who was the fourth person who passed away here?" Peter asked.

"Charles Switzer himself, in nineteen-oh-two. Cause of death was not listed in the obituary, and obviously any further records from that time period are going to be limited. His wife survived him and inherited the property. We know that she sold the place a year later. January of nineteen oh three."

"Do you think that he could be the man from the New Year's Eve tapes?" Liz questioned, her gaze darting around the kitchen.

"It's possible."