October 29, 1999

Rollie was slow to get up in the morning, having to drag himself out of bed.  It had taken him hours to get back to sleep.  He felt like crap.  He wanted to crawl back in bed and stay there.  The thought that he’d have to return to the house today made him feel even worse.

Taking a double dose of ibuprofen, he went into the shower.  When he came back out a few minutes later, Angie was in the room, apparently having entered through the connecting door.  Glad that he’d wrapped the towel around his waist instead of coming out buck naked, he stopped and watched her.  She was on the bed, her laptop sitting before her, apparently engrossed in what was on the screen.

“Hey, Rol.  It’s about time you came--”  Angie’s voice jerked to a halt as she looked up to see Rollie wearing nothing but a rather skimpy bath towel.  Before she could stop herself, she ran her eyes up and down his body.  But when she came to his face, the heated emotions that had arisen in her changed to concern.

“Jeez, Rol.  You look dreadful!” she exclaimed.

Rollie’s mouth twisted sardonically.  “Thanks, Ange.  That’s what every guy wants to hear when he’s standing almost naked in front of a woman.”

Ignoring his comment, Angie rose from the bed.  “Are you sick?  You’re pale, and you look like you didn’t get any sleep.”

“My stomach’s a little upset, and I have a headache, but I’m not sick.  No, I didn’t sleep well last night.”  Rollie’s tone made it clear he didn’t want to talk about it.  He went to his suitcase and pulled out a clean pair of boxers.  He then looked at Angie, who was watching him.  “Unless you want to see a whole lot more of me than you’ve ever seen before, I suggest that you turn your back.”

Angie felt a smirk form on her lips.  “Aw, Rollie.  Are you shy?”

“About face, Angela,” the Aussie told her firmly.  “And if you even think about sneaking a peak, I will get revenge.  Count on it.”

Her smirk growing into a grin, Angie turned her back to Rollie.  Not quite trusting her, the Aussie slipped the boxers on underneath the towel, not removing the towel until he was covered.

“Can I turn around now?” Angie asked a moment after the towel was discarded.

“Yes.”

Angie turned to face him, looking down at his underwear.  Her smirk returned, competing with the grin that was trying to make a reappearance.  “Love the boxers, Rol.  What are those, little cars?”

Rollie looked down at the underwear he was wearing, cursing silently.  He hadn’t paid attention to which ones he put on.  Refusing to let Angie know that she’d embarrassed him, he replied, “Corvettes, Ange.  I wouldn’t wear anything but a sports car.”  He got a fresh pair of jeans and a shirt and finished getting dressed, trying to ignore the fact that Angie was watching him.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” she said.  “You should see this Web site I found.  I was doing a little research this morning.  Did you know that there are societies and organizations all across the world that deal with the paranormal and supernatural?  I checked out a lot of their sites, but one in particular caught my eye.  It didn’t focus on any one organization.  Instead, it talked about ghost hunters and ghost hunting as a whole.  There were a lot of interesting articles.  One of them was about this guy who’s been ghost hunting for sixteen years, started after his wife and daughter died unexpectedly.  He’s totally dedicated to it, spending all his time at it.  The guy travels all across the world, going to places that are supposedly haunted.”

“Sorry, Angie.  I’m still not going to have someone come poking through the house looking for ghosts and goblins,” Rollie told her firmly.

“Why not?  Why are you so dead set against having the place checked out?”

“For one thing, I still believe that there’s another explanation for what’s been going on.  The other reason is that I don’t want the kind of publicity it would give the movie.”

“I should think that the news that the house really is haunted would increase interest in the movie.”

“Angie, the majority of people who found out that we had the house checked for ghosts would assume that it was done as a cheap publicity stunt.  That’s what the critics would think, and it could influence their minds when they go to see the movie.”

Angie thought about what he'd said for a moment.  “Yeah, you’re probably right about that,” she admitted reluctantly.

They went to breakfast, then spent the remainder of the morning and early afternoon scouting for good filming locations in town and talking to the owners of the buildings they decided that they wanted to use.

At a little after 2 p.m., Rollie and Angie were pulling up in front of the house.  After what had happened last night, it took all of Rollie’s self-control to enter the house and not reveal how edgy he was.  Even so, Angie was able to tell that he was nervous.

“You know, Rollie, you really don’t have to be in here,” she said as they entered the foyer.  “I can finish things in the house.  It really won’t take long.”

“No.  I’m not going to let this place get the better of me,” the Aussie said firmly.  “Besides, I still need to take a look at the study.”

“All right, but please be careful.”

“I will, Ange.”  His gaze went to the second floor.  “I’ll go check the study now.  Maybe you should see what’s in the backyard, how the house looks from that angle.”

Angie hesitated, not liking the idea of leaving Rollie in the house alone.  Sensing her thoughts, the Aussie gave her a small smile.

“Don’t worry, Angie.  I won’t let the bogeyman get me.”

“It’s not the bogeyman I’m worried about,” she responded, not smiling back.

Rollie gave her a brief hug.  “I’ll be all right, sweetie.  Go on outside.  I’m only going to take a quick look at the study.  Five minutes, tops.  Then I’ll come out and join you.”

Reluctantly, Angie nodded and headed for the back door, which was in the kitchen.  Rollie’s gaze returned to the second floor.  Ignoring the tight knot in his stomach, he ascended the stairs.  As he reached the top, he started turning to the right, but a faint sound made him turn around.  He saw nothing, yet the sound persisted.  It was the same as what he’d heard yesterday, the whimpering and crying of a fearful child, and, like before, it was coming from Nicolas Powell’s bedroom.

Rollie stared at the door of the bedroom for several seconds.  His instincts were telling him that he shouldn’t go in there, but something else was drawing him to the room.  Almost against his will, he found himself approaching it.  Rollie paused outside, then cautiously opened the door.  The sound of whimpering became louder.  As before, his eyes immediately went to the bed.  His feet carried him into the room.  With each step the sound became louder until it was so loud that Rollie put his hands over his ears to block it out.  But it did not stop the sound.  The whimpering and crying bored its way into his mind.  Then he heard screams, piercing shrieks of pain and terror that ripped at his sanity.  There was the smell of blood, and fear, and death.  Rollie felt himself slipping over the edge, blackness eating its way into his mind.  He tried to turn, to escape from the room, but he couldn’t.  He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel anything except the pain and terror as it grew stronger, and stronger, and stronger. . . .

Angie looked at her watch.  It had been over ten minutes since she left Rollie.  He should have been out here by now.  The feeling that something was wrong had been steadily building in her.  Her wiser self had told her that she shouldn’t leave Rollie alone in that house, but she hadn’t listened, and, now, she was more than a little worried.

Finally deciding that she had to see if he was all right, Angie went into the house.

“Rollie?” she called as she walked into the foyer.  “Rollie, are you still upstairs?”  There was no answer, and the silence made Angie’s concern go up several notches.  She made her way upstairs, calling her partner’s name a couple more times.

As she reached the top of the staircase, she heard a faint sound from the bedroom that had been Nicholas’s.

“Rollie, is that you?” she called out nervously.  When she got no answer, she went to the door.  That’s when she heard something that sent a chill down her spine.  It was the sound of whimpering.

Her heart pounding, Angie opened the door and looked inside.  The room appeared to be empty.  She took a step inside, then abruptly froze as she heard the sound of a small voice.

“No, Daddy, don’t.  Please, don’t hurt Mommy,” the voice whimpered.  “Oh, no, no, no!  Everybody’s screaming!  He’s hurting them!  He’s hurting them!”

Angie stared at the bed, which was where the voice was coming from.  It was the voice of a child, yet it also sounded familiar.  Gathering her courage, she took a step closer.

“I can hear him.  He’s coming!  He’s coming to get me!  Please don’t hurt me, Daddy.  Please just go away.  Please, please, please,” the voice cried softly.

All at once, Angie recognized the voice.  “Rollie?  I-is that you?” she asked, her voice shaking.  She walked up to the bed and knelt on the floor.  Slowly, she pulled up the bedspread and looked under the bed.  Rollie was somehow wedged beneath it, curled up into a tight ball.  His eyes were open, glazed and unseeing.

“My God,” Angie whispered.  “Rollie?”  She took hold of the Aussie’s arm, hoping to snap him out of whatever kind of trance he appeared to be in.  But the instant she touched him, he let out a shriek of terror.  He heaved upward, lifting the bed off the floor.  It went crashing against the wall as Angie leaped away from it.

The Aussie scrambled away, his eyes wild.  He then fell to the floor and threw his hands up over his head.  “No, Daddy!  No!!!” he screamed.  Then, suddenly, his whole body convulsed.  His eyes rolled back into his head, and he went limp.

“Rollie!”  Angie cried.  She hurried to him.  In horror, she realized that he wasn’t breathing.  She felt for a pulse and found none.

“Oh, God, Rollie, no!  Please, no!”  Anguish and terror filling her mind, Angie began CPR, tears flowing down her face.  “Rollie, don’t do this, please,” she begged.  “Please don’t leave me.”

Time seemed to slow down and stop as she tried to bring life back to Rollie.  She had no idea how long she’d been at it, when the Aussie abruptly convulsed again.  He drew in a deep, ragged breath, his body shuddering.  Then he went still, only, this time, Angie could see the rise and fall of his chest.

Still crying, Angie pulled him into her arms and held him, pressing her cheek against his hair.

“Angie?” came a weak whisper a few moments later.

She pulled away slightly and looked down at her partner.  His eyes were clear, though full of fear and confusion.  “Rollie?  Are you all right?”

“I . . . I think so,” he replied in a trembling voice.

A fresh flow of tears escaped Angie’s eyes.  “Oh, God.  I was so scared, Rollie.  I thought I was going to lose you.”

“What . . . what happened to me?”

“I don’t know.  Do you remember anything?”

Rollie slowly sat up, swaying slightly.  Angie held onto his arm, both to steady him and because she couldn’t bear to lose contact with him.

“I came into the bedroom because I heard the whimpering again.  As soon as I stepped in the room, I felt myself drawn to the bed.  The whimpering kept getting louder, then there was screaming.  The pain and fear was so overpowering.  I could smell the blood and the death.  It was suffocating me.  And then . . . then. . . .  Oh, God.  All at once, it was like I was somebody else.  I was Nicholas Powell, hearing his family being murdered by his father.”  Rollie looked at the bed.  “He hid under there.  He was so scared, I was so scared.  I wasn’t me anymore.  Then his father came and. . . .”  He shuddered.  “I can’t remember anything else.”

“Rollie, your heart stopped,” Angie told him tremulously.  “You weren’t breathing.  I had to do CPR on you.”

Rollie saw the anguish in her eyes and pulled her into his arms.  “What’s happening to me, Angie?”

“I don’t know, but we need to get out of here.  This place is too dangerous.”

Rollie pulled back and looked down at her.  “Angie, I need to know what’s causing this.  I have to find out why I’m seeing and experiencing these things.  I can’t just run away.”

Angie scrambled to her feet.  “Yes, you can!” she yelled.  “You can walk out that door and leave with me.  Nothing’s stopping you.  Don’t you get it?  You almost died!  Next time, you might not come back.”  She turned away from him.  “I can’t lose you, Rollie.  I just couldn’t bear it,” she whispered brokenly.

Rollie rose and came up behind Angie, wrapping his arms tightly around her.  “What did I tell you before, Ange?  You’re not going to lose me.  You are going to be stuck with me for a long, long time to come.”  He turned her around and put a hand under her chin, lifting her face to his.  “I’ll make you a deal.  I won’t go into this room again, no matter what, and I’ll steer clear of all the other places that cause the most trouble.”

“I’d really rather just leave, Rol.  I don’t see how we can film here anyway, not with how it’s affecting you.”

“That’s one of the reasons why I don’t want to just leave.  I still think this house and the town would be perfect for the shoot, and I don’t want to give up on it.”  He smiled.  “You always said I was stubborn.”

Angie wiped the wetness from her face.  “Yeah, you are.  And you don’t have much common sense either.  If you did, you’d be out the door by now.”

Rollie chuckled.  “When have I ever let common sense stop me?”

Angie gave a weak laugh.  “Never.”

“Well, then.  Why should things change now?”  Rollie gave her another hug.  “Come on.  Let’s get out of here.”

As they descended the stairs, Rollie glanced at Angie several times.  He didn’t want her to know the real reason why he wasn't going to leave, the fear that he couldn’t leave, that some part of what was causing these things would follow after him if he fled.  The fact that it had found him at the motel and drawn him here frightened him more than anything.

Once downstairs, they went to the kitchen, which was still one of the few rooms where Rollie felt comfortable.  He looked around the cheerily painted and decorated room.

“It’s so funny.  I don’t feel any of that sense of fear and death in here.  It’s quiet, almost peaceful and . . . and happy.”

Angie frowned.  “You didn’t say anything about feeling that way in here before.  All you said was that you didn’t have the bad feelings in here.”

“You’re right.  What I’m feeling now is new.”  The Aussie went to the sink counter.  His eyes slid shut.  “She used to prepare dinner here,” he said quietly, almost dreamily.  “Rebecca helped.  They’d laugh and tell each other secrets, talk about girl stuff.”  He smiled.  “Rebecca was smitten with a boy in school.  He was a senior, an ‘older man’.  Every time she saw him, she tried to act all grown up.”

“Rollie?” Angie said, uneasy.  This was too weird.

Rollie started slightly.  He blinked a few times and turned to look at her.  “Whew!  That was strange.  For a minute there, I could actually feel them, Hannah and Rebecca.  They were happy and carefree.  It was before everything changed.”

The Aussie sat down at the table.  Angie took the seat across from him, looking at him closely.

“I really think I should call that guy I told you about, the one who investigates houses that are reportedly haunted,” she said.  “I don’t care if it gives the movie bad publicity.”

Her partner put his elbows on the table and rested his chin and mouth on his folded hands, his eyes closed.  A moment passed, then he nodded, looking at her.  “Okay.  Give him a call.”

Angie’s eyes widened a little.  She had expected Rollie to refuse, even after what had happened.  “Are you saying that you’re willing to believe in the existence of ghosts now?”

“No,” Rollie denied quickly.  “I just think that he might be able to figure out what’s going on here.”

Suppressing a smile, Angie went out into the living room and got the phone number, which she had written on a piece of paper just in case.  Seeing that Rollie had chosen to stay in the kitchen, she pulled out her cell phone and made the call.

“Neil Sinclair?” she inquired when the call was answered.

“Yes.  How can I help you?” the man replied.

“I understand that you investigate places that are believed to be haunted.”

There was a slight pause.  “Yes, that’s right,” Sinclair confirmed hesitantly.

“Well, um, I’d like to . . . to hire your services,” Angie said, feeling a bit silly.

“I see.  What for?”

“My name’s Angie Ramirez.  I’m with a movie production company.  My partner and I were scouting for a location to film a movie we plan to make, and we found a house that would work well for us, but, uh . . . some weird things are happening.”

“What kind of weird things?”

“First, I should mention that a lot of the locals think the house is haunted.  There was a multiple murder and suicide here seventy years ago.  They think that the ghosts of the dead family are still here.”

“Have you seen anything yourself or personally experienced anything out of the ordinary?” Sinclair asked, his voice still slightly reserved.

“I haven’t, but my partner, he’s. . . .”

“What?”

“He’s seeing, hearing, and feeling things and. . . .”  Angie glanced toward the kitchen.  She lowered her voice.  “He’d kill me if he heard me tell you this, but I think that the ghosts are . . . possessing him.”

Angie could almost see the man on the other end sit up straight.  “Possessing him?  How so?” he said, his voice brisk with intense interest.

“Just a little while ago, he was in the bedroom where one of the children was murdered.  “He . . . lost himself.  He became the little boy.  I found him hiding under the bed, talking and acting like the child.  He was terrified, as if he really was that little boy, hearing his family being murdered downstairs.  And then--” Angie broke off, not sure she should continue.

“What is it?  Please tell me.”

“I think he relived the child’s death.  His . . . his heart and respiration actually stopped.  I had to perform CPR on him.”

“My God.  I’ve never heard of such an extreme case.  I think you need to get your partner out of that house as soon as possible and keep him away from it.  He could be in grave danger.”

“He doesn’t want to leave until he knows what’s causing these things.  I think he’s safe where he is now.  He’s in the kitchen, and he says that there are happy memories in there.”

“That’s good, but I still think that he should stay away from the house entirely.  Tell me where you are, and I’ll take the first plane out in the morning.”

Angie told him where they were and gave him her cell phone number and the name of the motel they were staying at.

“Oh, and one more thing.  We’d rather not have word of this get out, so we would appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone where you’re going,” Angie said, hoping that they might be able to avoid the problems Rollie was concerned about.

“That won’t be an issue, Ms. Ramirez.  I have a policy of protecting the identity of my clients unless they ask otherwise.”

“Thanks.  That would be appreciated.”

Angie said goodbye and hung up, wondering what the man was going to discover when he arrived tomorrow.