We nearly ran to Ron's car and climbed in. I held my breath as Ron backed out of the driveway and onto the street.

"What was that all about?" Ron asked, as he put on his right blinker and pulled up to the stop sign. For a moment, Ron sounded like a little boy. A boy that had been the only one not invited to a cla.s.sroom party.

"He wanted me to come back tonight, alone." I looked at Ron. "Without you."

"What are you, crazy?" Ron yelled. "You're not going back. Right?"

"No freaking way!"

"You didn't give him your number, did you?" Ron said, waggling his finger in my face. "Don't ever call him from your cell phone, home phone-anywhere..."

"No worries. I'm not calling him." I sighed heavily. "Did you know he just got released from prison?"

Ron turned, with a look of apparent guilt on his face, "Um, maybe?"

"What the h.e.l.l were you thinking? I could kill you!"

"Well, he needed help. Besides, I thought you wanted to help people." Ron grinned sheepishly.

"Yeah, at what cost?"

RESULTS OF THE INVESTIGATION.

Although we have no physical evidence, we believe the darkness behind the facade of a little girl was really the man that Rusty had murdered.This was one of the most horrifying investigations we've encountered. It just goes to show, sometimes there's more to fear from the living than from the dead.

episode ten

THE STONE HOUSE.

CASE FILE: 6231949.

STONE HOUSE.

Location: Undisclosed government location.History: A field stone building, originally a home, built in the 1890s. During World War I, it became a home for the wives of servicemen. In 1959, the building was purchased by a religious order for retreats and a home for troubled boys. The government leased the building in 1994.Reported Paranormal Activity: Unusually high attrition rate, electrical problems, unexplained noises, foul odors, cold spots, insect manifestations, and the uncomfortable feeling of being watched.Clients: Deborah (location manager), Evon (Maureen's sister).Investigators: Ron (lead investigator), Maureen (trance medium), Leo (photographer), Ron Jr. (investigator), Sabrina (Maureen's daughter), Bety (Maureen's friend).

Ron returns to the now abandoned Stone House. Does evil still lurk there?

I slapped a coffee cup on the desk while I waited for the lethargic computer to boot. Another morning with the New England Ghost Project. slapped a coffee cup on the desk while I waited for the lethargic computer to boot. Another morning with the New England Ghost Project. d.a.m.n, I hate mornings d.a.m.n, I hate mornings. The cobwebs cleared in my head as I began to check my emails. As usual I scanned the list, looking for anything of interest, when one caught my eye. Hmmm, what's this? Hmmm, what's this? I read it out loud to myself, "A cry for help..." I read it out loud to myself, "A cry for help..."

To: : EvonSubject: A cry for help!Dear Ron-Hi, this is Evon, Maureen's sister. She told me to contact you directly, so I am. I work at a government building where a lot of strange things have been occurring. Not only do we have an unusually high attrition rate, it seems that everyone is at each other's throats. At first we thought it nothing more than coincidence. But now, we're not so sure.We have been experiencing horrific odors that appear out of nowhere and mysteriously disappear as quickly as they come. On several occasions we've had electrical problems, computer problems, and infestations of various insects.As if that weren't enough, we've had a series of unexplained events, cold air swirling around our legs, knockings in the walls, and while on conference calls, the phone b.u.t.tons will all light up, suggesting someone or something is listening in.We're desperate. Please, please, please, help us to find out what is going on. The only problem is my manager wants this to remain anonymous.We appreciate any a.s.sistance you can offer.Please contact me as quickly as possible.Evon Realizing the seriousness of the situation, we accepted her challenge. And here's where our story begins.

Tension filled the air as we made our way up the winding dirt driveway. The moon hung low in the sky, illuminating the menacing stone structure, making the two front windows appear like a pair of evil eyes, lurking in the distance. An uneasiness swept over our group. As we exited the cars, I looked at my friend Bety and my daughter, Sabrina; since it was their first time out on an investigation with us, I attempted to gauge their reactions to our surroundings.

We cautiously entered the building.

"Hi, Evon!" I wrapped my arms around my sister, whom I hadn't seen for a month or so, and gave her a big hug.

"Maureen, so glad you came," she said in a quivering voice.

I turned to face Ron. "This is my sister, Evon, and her manager, Deborah."

"Nice to meet you," he said, extending his hand in a greeting. "Is there somewhere we can set up?"

"Yeah, you can use the conference room off to the left." She hesitated. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Yes, that sounds great," Ron said.

Typically I wait until we've walked the premises to get a feel for the place prior to making any judgments. This time it was different. I didn't need to walk through the old stone house. I'd barely stepped over the threshold when the first waves of trembling energy brushed across my forehead, sending a shiver up my spine. The eagerness for investigating that I'd felt a mere moment ago was replaced by sudden doubt. I was all too familiar with the risks a.s.sociated with investigating the paranormal. It was one thing subjecting myself to the danger; it was another altogether to expose my own flesh and blood to it. I looked at Sabrina, my daughter, and for the first time since we'd left my house, I regretted bringing her along.

Moments after completing our setup, Deborah returned, mugs in hand.

"So, what's the story on this place?" Ron asked, scanning the surroundings.

Deborah handed Ron a cup of coffee. "In preparation for you guys coming I did a little research. The building is over one hundred years old and was originally built by a local businessman for his mistress." She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. "It took two years to complete the house, and at that time, he married his mistress and moved in with her. Three months later he died mysteriously. During World War I it became a home for the wives of servicemen whose husbands were away. In 1959, it was bought by a religious order, which held retreats and had a camp for difficult children. We are currently leasing the building from the order."

No sooner had she finished her story than Leo, our photographer, yelled, "What the heck is this?"

While Leo was drinking his coffee, a large, fat fly appeared out of nowhere and, as if in some weird kamikaze trance, made a spiral nosedive directly into his cup. Was this some type of omen?

Ron started grabbing equipment. "Hey, Evon, would you mind giving us a hand?"

"No, not at all. What can I do?" Evon asked eagerly.

Ron handed her the remote infrared camera. "Take this. It's the infrared camera," he said, reading her quizzical gaze. "The monitors at base camp display everything you're seeing. So just make sure to keep it level and aimed at us."

We left Sabrina at base camp, and with Deborah in the lead, we walked through the foyer toward the back of the building and made our way up the carpeted stairs to the second floor offices.

As I walked into the large office at the end of the hallway, I felt a low-level current of energy hum across my skin, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. "Someone's here," I said. Ron, with his EMF meter in hand, began to sweep the area at shoulder height.

"Are you sure? I'm not picking up much of a reading."

Evon, clutching the mobile infrared camera, asked, "Ron, how close do you have to be to detect a spirit?"

"Fairly close with this type of meter," Ron answered.

I concentrated a little more. Instinctively, I knew why he hadn't gotten a reading. "Your meter is up too high. Here, around hip level." I gestured with an arcing motion of my hand. "It's a little boy."

Ron lowered the meter. The EMF meter blinked wildly "Wow. Look at that!" he said.

Suddenly I felt strongly that the young boy was trying to warn me.

I looked up into the concerned eyes of our guests. "Can you guys feel this? It's so thick. Heavy." I struggled to breathe, my chest constricting. The harder I tried to reach out to the little boy, the stronger the energy became, as if something or someone stood in the way. I ignored my gut instinct of impending doom and used my pendulum to reach out to the little boy once again.

"Is there anyone else here?" Ron interjected.

"Something's happening! I can't see you guys anymore. The monitor's all snow. Something's interfering with the infrared camera." Sabrina's concerned voice echoed over the walkie-talkie.

That's when the first strike of energy hit.

Suddenly feeling like a Mack truck had hit me, I stumbled. Before I was able to regain my posture, it struck again. The energy burned a trail of pain and numbness, traveling through my pendulum, up my arm, and into my chest. My heart about to explode, I doubled over in pain. As if I were in a tunnel, my mind became a blur; I could barely hear the m.u.f.fled sound of the EMF meter and the snapping of Leo's camera.

I struggled to regain my body. Eyes closed, I became intent on expelling the dark ent.i.ty.

Drawing on the aura of my emotions, my will strengthening, my consciousness clearing, I mentally pushed back. The ent.i.ty, no longer able to maintain its grip, lessened its hold and retreated into the void. I silently said a prayer of thanks when the vicelike grip on my heart lessened. That grip was a feeling I recognized. It was demonic.

Stunned by what had just transpired, I reached out and grabbed Maureen's arm to help steady her. "What the h.e.l.l was that?" I asked, straining to be heard over the sound of the EMF meter.

"Are you up to asking a couple more questions?" I felt awful asking, but the communication had been so strong, I hated to end things.

"Not really," she mumbled.

Maureen's friend Bety, eager to help, drew her pendulum out of her jacket pocket. "What questions do you want to ask?"

With that, the EMF stopped dead.

"Hmm. What's up with that?" I asked.

"He's gone," Maureen said.

I turned to Evon and Deborah, who were standing in the doorway, and asked, "Are you girls all right?"

"I'm not quite sure," Deborah said hesitantly. Then looking at Evon to see her reaction to what had just transpired, she said, "Sometimes when we are here at night, working late, we've been so creeped out that we've quickly gathered all of our belongings and fled the building."

"Wow. What was it that 'creeped' you out, do you have any idea?"

"I don't want to speak for everyone here," Evon said, "but it feels like 'something' is watching us, and not in a good way." Evon looked at Deborah for approval, then looked at me. "Do you know what it is?"

I thought for a moment on how to answer Evon's delicate question. The quiver in their voices told me they may not be ready to listen to the answer I was about to give. I decided to deal with it later. "Let's finish the investigation and see what we come up with." Ready to move on, I turned to Maureen. "Are you okay? Can you continue?"

"Yeah. I guess so."

"Good, let's check out the first floor."

A few moments later, as we pa.s.sed through the foyer, Maureen stopped in her tracks. "It's the little boy. He's back."

With my meter in hand I scanned the area. "There are no readings. I think he's gone."

"No. Get down lower to the ground, Ron. I think he's playing a game with you." This time I knelt down and lowered the meter until it was a foot above the oak flooring. The flashing red light indicated he was there.

"Oh my G.o.d. I just saw him." Maureen pointed to a spot directly in front of where I held my meter. "He's there, kneeling down in front of you." Her voice thick with excitement, she said, "He has dark curly hair. Marcus. His name is Marcus."

After a few moments of playing what appeared to be a game of supernatural tag, I asked, "Does anybody have any questions for Marcus?"

"Yeah, I do," Bety said without missing a beat. Pendulum in hand, she asked, "Did you die here?"

Yes, came the reply.

I looked from Maureen to Bety, and was amazed to see that both their pendulums were swinging in unison.

My meter went dead.

"Ron, I think he wants us to follow him. Try over there," Maureen said, nodding in the direction of the door.

As I drew closer to the door, the readings on the meter got stronger and stronger. "Where does this door lead to?"

"Oh," Deborah said in a sheepish voice. "I forgot to tell you about the bas.e.m.e.nt."

"What about the bas.e.m.e.nt?" I asked.

"One day we came in," Evon said, opening the door to the cellar, "and there, on the top step, was a large dead black bird. A raven, I think."

"Ooh, do you know how it got there?" I asked.

"Haven't a clue, but it scared the bejeezus out of us."

Descending the stairs, I used the meter as a beacon in the darkness, following Marcus's lead with each blink of red light. Through narrow twisting corridors, with only the glow of my EMF meter and a small flashlight, we continued to follow Marcus through the dark, damp recesses of the cellar. We found a closet that no one even knew existed, a darkened area by a fuel oil tank, and a hole in the wall that led to nowhere.

It seemed evident that we were being guided for a reason. But why? Were these hiding places Marcus had used when he was alive or, worse, what he thought he needed now that he was in spirit? A shiver ran through me at that thought.

We left the cellar and headed back up the stairs. As we climbed the stairs, we felt a rush of cold air, which seemed to pa.s.s right through us. Collectively we knew that we were not alone.

It was time to regroup. We gathered together to discuss what we had observed and what actions could be taken. I pulled a pack of matches out of my shirt pocket and lit the candelabra to set the mood, then placed my EMF meter on the conference table.

"Ron, what are you doing?" Deborah asked.

"Just an experiment. I'm hoping that if a spirit enters the room, we'll get a reaction from either the EMF meter or the lit candles. You never know; it could happen." I smiled.

Deborah waited until the last of us had taken a seat to begin speaking again. "I didn't want to mention this before, but you know, when I did the research on the building I was saddened to hear of a tragic accident in the parking lot that took the life of a little boy." The flames of the candles danced and lengthened as she continued. "I believe he was brought into this house, where he later died."

Was his name Marcus? Was it the same little boy we'd communicated with earlier in the evening? I wanted to find out more, so I decided to make one more sweep. One by one we walked upstairs in silence, almost reluctantly. Our tight-knit group gathered in the hallway, huddling in the glow of my flashlight. The plaque over the door caught my attention; momentarily I flashed the light in its general direction. The sign read, "Shalom," but instinct told me what we were about to encounter would be anything but peaceful. Raising my laser thermometer, I began to take readings.

I stood there hugging my arms while Ron fiddled with the temperature gauge. That's when I felt it, waves of the same familiar yet uncomfortable energy roiling over my skin, causing the hair at the base of my neck to p.r.i.c.kle. A swift-flowing, cool breeze swirled around our legs. One look at the wide-eyed stares of our hosts, and I knew they'd felt it too.

I looked past the others at Ron. "He's back," I said, signaling with a nod, then took my place by his side.