questions.
“Disturbances such as the ones you’re describing usually appear on the news, on TV—I haven’t seen any publicity, though.”
In the background, the television was tuned to static. “No, we keep our set turned to Channel 23 usually . . .” Steve trailed off, then continued quickly, lest Dr. Lesh think him hopelessly crazy. “No—I mean . . . no. We haven’t had any publicity. Absolutely no. Uh uh.”
Martha nodded. “Can you be reasonably sure of not letting any get started?”
“It’s the last thing in the world we want. No three-ring circuses. My job, my family . . .”
“Would your family welcome a serious investigation of the disturbances by someone who could make first-hand observations?”
Steve almost broke down. He wrung his hands, tried to control the tremor in his chin. “Dr. Lesh. We don’t care about the disturbances . . . the pounding . . . the furniture . . . the flashes, the music.” He looked distractedly around the room, almost as if he were looking into the walls. “We just want to find our little girl.”
CHAPTER 4
For the next three hours, Lesh interviewed Steve and Diane, getting all the specifics of the case—what moved when, who was in the room when it happened, when the television was on, what channel it was tuned to, how, Carol Anne disappeared, and so on. They were so glad to talk about it with someone—anyone—they needed no coaxing to tell their story.
Up to now, they hadn’t known whom to tell, or what to do. Call the police and file a missing persons report? They could just imagine the reaction that would have gotten them. Hire a medium to talk to the spirits? They had no idea how to contact such a person. They couldn’t tell friends, for fear of being laughed at. They hardly believed it themselves. Certainly they couldn’t allow the neighbors to find out—they’d be roasted out of the neighborhood, particularly by Teague, who had a distinct sense of propriety and community—and who didn’t react well to abnormal behavior in his neighbors or his salesmen. He’d already called once to find out why Steve hadn’t been showing up for work.
But just as certainly, they couldn’t leave the house—not while Carol Anne was still there. She might reappear at any time; she might need them to help her; she was . . . somewhere here.
Dr. Lesh’s appearance was a godsend. A sympathetic, credentialed scientist. A doctor. She could help them. She knew about paranormal events; she wouldn’t discard their apprehensions, or scoff in ridicule. She would help them.
Ryan returned from the hospital just as Robbie was getting home for lunch.
“How was school?” Diane asked.
“Oh, I didn’t have classes today,” Ryan joked, coming through the front door on Robbie’s heels.
“No lunch if you cut classes,” Diane riposted. Her spirits were elevated enormously already—she just knew these kind people would find her baby.
“But the dog ate my homework,” Ryan tried hopefully.
“Well . . . okay,” Diane relented. “You can have lunch, too.” She headed toward the kitchen. “You wash up, mister,” she yelled at Robbie.
Steve entered the hallway with Dr. Lesh. “I was just going to take them up . . . to the bedroom,” he said to his wife.
Diane went on into the kitchen, talking over her shoulder. “You guys go on. I’m gonna try to keep sane by making food for everyone—we all have our little tricks.”
Steve nodded, and began to mount the steps, followed by Dr. Lesh and Ryan, with Robbie several paces behind. Ryan wore a 35-mm camera on his neck.
“I should warn you,” Steve said as they climbed, “we’ve had to lock off the room from the rest of the house. Robbie sleeps with us now. Dana, our oldest, spends a lot of time with . . . with friends.”
“How many disturbances have you recorded in this room?” Martha asked.
“We just don’t go in there any more.”
“We can set up in there,” Ryan assured him. “We’ll record any
“Disturbances such as the ones you’re describing usually appear on the news, on TV—I haven’t seen any publicity, though.”
In the background, the television was tuned to static. “No, we keep our set turned to Channel 23 usually . . .” Steve trailed off, then continued quickly, lest Dr. Lesh think him hopelessly crazy. “No—I mean . . . no. We haven’t had any publicity. Absolutely no. Uh uh.”
Martha nodded. “Can you be reasonably sure of not letting any get started?”
“It’s the last thing in the world we want. No three-ring circuses. My job, my family . . .”
“Would your family welcome a serious investigation of the disturbances by someone who could make first-hand observations?”
Steve almost broke down. He wrung his hands, tried to control the tremor in his chin. “Dr. Lesh. We don’t care about the disturbances . . . the pounding . . . the furniture . . . the flashes, the music.” He looked distractedly around the room, almost as if he were looking into the walls. “We just want to find our little girl.”
CHAPTER 4
For the next three hours, Lesh interviewed Steve and Diane, getting all the specifics of the case—what moved when, who was in the room when it happened, when the television was on, what channel it was tuned to, how, Carol Anne disappeared, and so on. They were so glad to talk about it with someone—anyone—they needed no coaxing to tell their story.
Up to now, they hadn’t known whom to tell, or what to do. Call the police and file a missing persons report? They could just imagine the reaction that would have gotten them. Hire a medium to talk to the spirits? They had no idea how to contact such a person. They couldn’t tell friends, for fear of being laughed at. They hardly believed it themselves. Certainly they couldn’t allow the neighbors to find out—they’d be roasted out of the neighborhood, particularly by Teague, who had a distinct sense of propriety and community—and who didn’t react well to abnormal behavior in his neighbors or his salesmen. He’d already called once to find out why Steve hadn’t been showing up for work.
But just as certainly, they couldn’t leave the house—not while Carol Anne was still there. She might reappear at any time; she might need them to help her; she was . . . somewhere here.
Dr. Lesh’s appearance was a godsend. A sympathetic, credentialed scientist. A doctor. She could help them. She knew about paranormal events; she wouldn’t discard their apprehensions, or scoff in ridicule. She would help them.
Ryan returned from the hospital just as Robbie was getting home for lunch.
“How was school?” Diane asked.
“Oh, I didn’t have classes today,” Ryan joked, coming through the front door on Robbie’s heels.
“No lunch if you cut classes,” Diane riposted. Her spirits were elevated enormously already—she just knew these kind people would find her baby.
“But the dog ate my homework,” Ryan tried hopefully.
“Well . . . okay,” Diane relented. “You can have lunch, too.” She headed toward the kitchen. “You wash up, mister,” she yelled at Robbie.
Steve entered the hallway with Dr. Lesh. “I was just going to take them up . . . to the bedroom,” he said to his wife.
Diane went on into the kitchen, talking over her shoulder. “You guys go on. I’m gonna try to keep sane by making food for everyone—we all have our little tricks.”
Steve nodded, and began to mount the steps, followed by Dr. Lesh and Ryan, with Robbie several paces behind. Ryan wore a 35-mm camera on his neck.
“I should warn you,” Steve said as they climbed, “we’ve had to lock off the room from the rest of the house. Robbie sleeps with us now. Dana, our oldest, spends a lot of time with . . . with friends.”
“How many disturbances have you recorded in this room?” Martha asked.
“We just don’t go in there any more.”
“We can set up in there,” Ryan assured him. “We’ll record any
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