Chapter Sixteen

Heaven and Harley Feldman were not at all what Ginger expected, she reflected as the typical round of introductions were made before the final filming. They both had tattoos, for one thing. Not the full-body type, but Heaven and Harley sported several tattoos each, a tribal around the arm, a skull here, a glittering heart there. They both rode motorcycles, Ginger noted, taking in the black-and-chrome bikes that sat in the driveway. How had she not noticed the noise over the past two weeks?

All in all, the couple gave off a good vibe. Chris's earlier description of the pair proved remarkably accurate, for they did in fact seem like nice people. They were also very close to Peter and Elizabeth Scott, that much was obvious. The two couples greeted each other like old friends, despite the families having known each other only a relatively short period of time. Ginger supposed that the upheaval these two families had gone through, with only each other for support, would solidify bonds pretty quickly.

Sure, she reasoned, they each had family and probably a decent supply of friends as well. Friends and family who may or may not have called them crazy had they known of the oddities that were happening with increasing regularity in both houses. Ginger cringed; she herself had at one time been such a friend and family member.

"Ginger has been such a comfort to us throughout this whole process," Elizabeth told Heaven when Chris introduced her as the third member of their team. "I don't know what I would have done without her these past two weeks."

"Oh…" Ginger waved away the compliment.

"It's nice to meet you." Heaven graced her with a wide, even-toothed smile that was probably the most brilliant shade of white Ginger had ever seen. Her hair was red as well, although a much lighter shade than Ginger's own deep burgundy. And Ginger found it hard not to appreciate, and even envy, just a little, her ample form.

"Nice to meet you." She returned the greeting in kind, shaking the woman's outstretched hand.

"Are we ready to start filming?" Chris asked the expectant group.

"Last one," Heaven murmured to Elizabeth, giving her arm a light squeeze.

"It's going to be fine," Peter reassured, moving to stand at his wife's side.

"I'm ready when you are," Adam murmured from the corner of the room, his camcorder aimed and ready.

"Everyone take a seat and we'll begin." Chris took his own seat at the head of the table, motioning for the others to do the same. Ginger dropped her arms to her sides, took a deep breath, and moved to stand behind Adam.

"Ready?" Chris questioned, signaling to Adam when everyone nodded an affirmative.

"Three, two, one, rolling."

"We're here today with Peter and Elizabeth, who are joined by their former neighbors, Heaven and Harley Feldman. I would like to take a moment and thank everyone for coming today." Chris looked into the camera before shifting his attention to the four men and women seated across the table from him. "Elizabeth, I'd like to hear about the events that transpired on New Year's Eve, two thousand ten, one month after you and your family had moved out of the house."

"Okay." Liz nodded, her chest rising with the deep breath she gulped, then exhaled slowly.

"You, your husband Peter, and the Feldmans got together that evening?"

"Yes."

"But you didn't throw the typical New Year's Eve party, did you?"

"No. It was more like a New Year's Eve ghost hunt. Like the kind you see on some TV shows," she explained, her gaze darting to the camera.

"Cut," Chris called. "Adam, hold off filming for a second, please."

"You got it."

"Elizabeth, try and relax if you can," Chris urged, not unkindly. "It's just like before. Try and forget about the camera."

"Okay." She took what Ginger assumed was meant to be a calming breath. "I'm ready."

"Three, two, one, rolling."

"Elizabeth, can you tell us why the four of you gathered together, in this house, for a ghost hunt, as you call it?"

"We were pretty desperate at that point, all of us, and scared. We were looking for answers, and," she paused, "we were hoping we could make whatever was in the house leave."

"So, would you say it was more of an exorcism than a ghost hunt?"

"Maybe a little of both, but we really had no idea what we were doing. Parts of the evening were actually quite comical, looking back on it now."

"Take us back to that night, Liz. What happened?"

"Well," she began with a sigh, "I hate to start with a cliché here, but it was a dark and stormy night…"

* * *

"Heaven, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Relax, Liz. I've seen this done a million times." Heaven shrugged off concerns and potential problems alike with an airy wave of her hand.

"You've seen it done?" Liz was skeptical. "Where? Where have you seen this done? And keep in mind 'on TV' does not count as a valid answer."

"Sure it does. Liz, listen to me—how hard can it be?"

"I think I'm afraid to find out." She chewed her bottom lip, idly watching her flame-haired friend tie a black bandanna around her long hair.

"Don't be afraid. Whatever is in that house can tell if you're afraid, and I get the feeling it doesn't care. In fact, maybe just the opposite," Heaven instructed, tying a knot at the edges of the ebony cloth.

"Are you saying it feeds off our fear?"

"Maybe." Heaven lifted one shoulder, turning to face her friend.

"I'll try to hold it together. I don't know how you stay so calm and collected. You're going through the same thing here. Which, by the way, I can't help but feel responsible for."

"Orbs moving through my hallway in the night, and a translucent face behind me in a photograph, are not exactly the same as screaming and scraping sounds and things turning on and off by themselves. My dogs have never been scared to the point of whimpering, either."

"Well, I suppose you've got me there. Still, I feel like this is my fault. You didn't have any activity in your house until mine started." Liz frowned, eyes downcast.

"Elizabeth Scott," Heaven sighed. "Would you stop already? Land sakes, woman, it's not like you gave us fleas. I'll be the first to admit that I don't understand the connection between the two houses, either, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't work that way."

"I just hope we can make whatever it is stop and leave for good."

"We just have to show it that we mean business." Heaven nodded, her voice firm and strong as she slipped into her shoes.

"What do you think it is?"

"A ghost, I suppose."

"But what if it's a demon?"

"Let's hope it's not."

"Didn't you get any tips on vanquishing demons from all those TV shows?"

"I think we should read from the Bible if we suspect it's a demon. Hold on, I'll grab mine from the den."

"What about garlic?" Liz asked, tromping down the stairs in Heaven's wake and managing a thin smile for Peter and Harley, who waited by the back door.

"You're thinking about vampires," Heaven called out, the sound of her voice muted as she rooted through the den.

"Now we have vampires?" Peter lifted one eyebrow.

"Very funny."

"I found it!" Heaven reappeared a moment later, Bible in hand. "Let's do this, guys."

"Here we go," Liz breathed as the four of them walked solemnly across the driveway toward the dark, silent house.

"Peter and I will set up the video camera if you girls will place a recorder downstairs and one upstairs."

"So we stay in pairs." Heaven nodded. "Okay, sounds good."

"Why are you whispering?" Harley glanced back at her.

"I don't know. I guess because I'm scared."

"We'll be fine."

"I know. Where upstairs should we put the recorder?"

"Let's set it in the small bedroom. That room has always given me a bad feeling. I can't even stand to go in there," Liz confided.

"Then you stand in the hallway and I'll put the recorder in the room."

"Thanks, Heaven."

The air in the house smelled dank, she noticed, not like her house at all. She felt like she had been transported to someplace foreign, someplace … not quite right…

* * *

"So, you set up one video camera on the main floor of the house," Chris prompted when Elizabeth fell silent. "Where was it located?"

"I placed the camcorder on my tripod," Harley answered, smoothing his hands over his faded blue jeans and propping one booted foot over his knee. "That was in the living room, by the window that faces the front porch."

"And the two audio recorders? Heaven, you placed one in the small room upstairs? Where was the other recorder?"

"Elizabeth set it at the bottom of the stairwell, here in the dining room. It was actually sitting on the bottom tread."

"Did anyone take pictures that night?"

"No," Heaven explained. "We meant to, but around eleven thirty that night I got a phone call. Harley's mother had the boys, and she thought my oldest might have been ill. I left for forty-five minutes, maybe an hour, to check on him."

"Did you come back to the Scotts' house that evening?"

"Yes, I came right back. That's when I found Elizabeth. Harley and Peter were in the garage, at our house…"

"Elizabeth, is it true that you were trapped in the house, alone, for almost twenty minutes that night?"

"Yes," she confirmed, knotting her fingers together and swallowing audibly.

"Can you tell us more about what happened during those minutes?"

"Well, after Heaven left, Peter and Harley went to the garage to get more batteries for the equipment…"

* * *

"Low battery again. Damn," Harley swore. "How is that possible? I just put fresh batteries in this camcorder."

"The batteries in the recorder just died," Peter called out from the pitch black dining room.

"Hell. And now we're out of batteries. This is not possible. This does not happen."

"Liz? Liz, are you okay?" Peter asked.

"I'm fine." Her voice was muffled as she sat on the stairs with her head between her knees.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, this is just … unreal." She straightened up, feeling a little lightheaded but not wanting to worry her husband and her neighbor.

"Is she okay?" Harley appeared in the archway that separated the living room from the formal dining room.

"Just the stress, I think. She says she's fine," Peter told him, his eyes still searching his wife's face for signs of some unseen illness or injury.

"I'm fine, you guys. Scout's honor. Are you out of batteries?" She frowned. That made three sets of batteries drained in a matter of a few hours.

"Yeah. We need to go get more."

"At least it's New Year's Eve. We shouldn't have any trouble finding a place that's open tonight," Peter pointed out.

"We don't need to do all that. I've got a stockpile of the things in my garage."

"Liz? You coming?"

"No, go ahead. I'll just sit here and wait for you to get back, if it's all the same to you."

"I really don't think—"

"Peter, I'm fine. I just need to sit for a moment and get my bearings."

"Okay, we'll be back in a minute."

"Take your time," Liz sighed. "The only thing that's happening tonight is equipment failure."

"That's true enough." Peter smiled. "Okay, we'll be back in a few minutes, then."

Liz shivered when the latch on the front door clicked into place, signaling Peter and Harley's exit. Her gaze roamed the silent, empty house, and she was acutely aware of how utterly alone she was in the dark. With her back to the empty void of the stairwell behind her, she felt vulnerable, ice creeping up her spine until the impulse to run from the house became strong. She couldn't do it, she realized. She couldn't stay in the house alone, waiting, calm and patient, for the men to come back with the batteries.

"Okay," she whispered, staying absolutely still, not daring to turn around for fear of what she might find waiting for her in the dark. "So, I'll wait outside. On the porch. A little cold won't kill me."

"But I might…"

The voice carried in the dark, so whispery and faint that Liz thought she must have imagined it. Real or imagined, it was the last straw. With a sudden, desperate spurt of energy, she was up and running, making a mad dash for the front door and the relative safety of the porch.

The knob refused to turn. With a small, thin cry, she wrapped the t-shirt she wore beneath her thick sweater around her damp fingers and tried again, to no avail. She frantically scrubbed her hands across the thighs of her jeans and tried once again to open the door. The lock wouldn't budge. The knob didn't turn. It was as though someone was holding it in place. The cold metal stung her hand, burning through her consciousness and making her accept that, for whatever reason, trying to open the front door was a lost cause.

Fighting through heart-pounding waves of panic, she dashed into the living room. If she couldn't get out through the door, she would make her exit through a window, by breaking the glass if necessary. She made it as far as the archway before her forehead went numb, her footsteps slowing, her movements becoming clumsy and forced. Her legs felt like lead, and her strength was waning by sharp degrees. Sinking to her knees, she scooted across the floor until her back was to the wall, drawing herself up and hugging her knees to her chest, struggling to breathe, to keep her eyes open. She registered laughter in the distance, low and sinister.

Sometime later—she wasn't sure how much time had passed, only that she had given up hope—the front door was violently kicked in. The sound of footsteps pounding the floor reached hers ears a split second before she felt the blast of frigid air.

"Liz! Oh my God, Liz, get up! Come on, we've got to get you out of here. Now! Come on, you have to get up."

"Heaven…"

"That's it, that's the way," Heaven murmured, her voice shaky but soothing. "Let's get you out of here."

Liz half expected the door to somehow slam shut and lock them both in before they could make it outside, but they passed through what was left of it with ease, and she gulped a lungful of the precious, icy air.

"What happened?" Heaven demanded, shoving honey-brown hair out of Elizabeth's face and kneeling beside her in the dewy grass.

"It was a man, Heaven, I heard him. He locked me in. I couldn't get out. I couldn't move." She coughed.

"I know. I saw him."

"You did?"

"He was a solid black … thing in the shape of a man. He was wearing a top hat. I saw him through the porch window when I walked up. He was standing in the middle of the living room, just standing there with his arms at his sides. Then I saw you in the corner and realized the door was locked."

"So you decided to kick the door in first and ask questions later?" Liz grinned weakly. "You're a real friend, Heaven."

"Well. He was gone by the time I got into the house. What in the hell were you doing in there alone, Liz?"

"Heaven? Liz?" Peter ran out of the garage, alarmed by the sight of his wife and his neighbor huddled in the grass. "What's going on?"

"I should ask you and Harley the same thing. I just came back to find your wife collapsed on the floor of the living room. That—thing—locked her in the house and was … doing something to her," she said accusingly.

"What do you mean?" Harley asked, standing next to his wife and watching as Peter leaned down to inspect Liz.

"I don't know, but she wasn't moving. I had to break the door down to get to her."

"What happened, Liz? What did you see?"

"It was a dark figure. He locked me in. He didn't do anything to me. I mean, he didn't touch me or anything, but I couldn't move. I felt … drained."

"Drained?" Peter frowned, glancing back at Harley.

"Like the batteries," Harley murmured. "Son of a bitch. That thing has been playing with us all night…"

* * *

"Was that the last time you entered the property?" Chris asked.

"Yes. Until this investigation began," Liz said, her hand pressed to her throat.

"Cut!" Chris called out. "Would someone please get her a glass of water?"

"Thank you," Liz replied gratefully when Ginger returned a moment later with a large glass of cold water from the kitchen sink.

"That's a wrap, people," Chris announced. "Thank you for coming out today. I have everything I need," he told Elizabeth, sympathy plain in his eyes.

"We can go now?"

"Yes, and thank you for sharing your experience with us today. I know it wasn't easy."

"Your team will be leaving in the morning?"

"Yes, around six in the morning, if not a little earlier. You have my number, though. If any of you need anything at all, please call me. Day or night, okay?"

"Okay." Liz managed a smile, turning back at the front door to say goodbye to Ginger.

"You have my cell number?"

"I saved it on my phone," Ginger confirmed, moving forward to hug the woman.

"Let's keep in touch."

"I'd like that."