Eric groans as I head into the kitchen. When I come back, the investigator is still talking, and I roll my eyes.
“What?” Eric asks.
I gesture to the TV. “What do you mean what? Are you listening to the same thing I am? This is ridiculous. Did you hear him? ‘Because we can. Because we must. Because we need to know.’”
Eric doesn't look impressed by my impression of Ken Abbott.
“You know, in all the time I've known you, I really thought you were more open-minded than this,” Eric says.
“Me, too,” Sam says.
I swallow my sip of coffee and set the mug down on the table in front of me, throwing my hands up in the air as I lean back against the couch.
“I'm not closed-minded. Not about real life, anyway. And I'm not being closed-minded about this. I'm being realistic,” I say.
“You mean to tell me you're not even curious? There isn't even a little part of you that thinks there's something else other than what we see right here?” Eric asks. “I mean, how different is this from you poring over old case files trying to find out what really happened?”
“This is different!” I insist. “Those are real cases with real events and real people and real evidence. Not… ghosts. Are you saying you believe in ghosts?”
“If that's what you want to call them,” he shrugs. “Ghosts. Spirits.”
“Poltergeists. Spectral phenomena. Phantoms. Wraiths. Phantasms. Kelpies. Apparitions. Spooks,” Xavier says. He realizes we're all staring at him and stops. His eyes slide back and forth between Eric and me. "I thought we were playing a game."
"Banshee," Sam adds.
Xavier points at him. "That's a good one. I forgot that one."
“My point is, ghost stories are fun for Halloween.”
“And Christmas,” Xavier says.
I nod, remembering that whole conversation. “Yes. And Christmas. But it isn't either of those times of year right now. It's summer. It's going to be the Fourth of July soon. I just think it's kind of silly that they are going up to some campground to poke around and see what goes bump in the night. Especially considering the campgrounds at that park are really popular. I can't imagine they’re going to get too much peace and quiet.”
“Like I said,” Eric says. “That campground has been abandoned for years. The whole reason they're going is for the thirteenth anniversary.”
“Oh, yes,” I say dramatically. “The thirteenth anniversary. Because that somehow has more significance than any other year that's passed. So, maybe the campground’s abandoned. There are abandoned campgrounds in every park in every part of this country. There's nothing there but a bunch of trees and some old fire pits. It just seems ridiculous to pretend they're doing something so important and dangerous. Or as if they're going to make some huge discovery that has some major significance to the scientific community. As though we're all out here waiting with bated breath for them to catch the perfect selfie with Casper.”
“So, you're telling me you don't ever wonder if your mother is still around?” Eric asks.
That yanks the breath out of me.
Chapter Two
I stare at him for a few seconds as I try to refill my lungs with air.
“Honestly,” I say. “I don't know. Of course, I like the idea that she hasn't gone completely. That some part of her is still around, and that she was with me during the hardest times of my life. But I don't know what that means. I believe she is watching over me. I believe she does see me and knows the person I am now. But does that mean I think she's invisible and floating around somewhere right now? Do I think she's still in that house in Florida because that's where she died? If that's the case, then I hope not. I don't want to think she's stuck in that room because of what happened to her."
"That doesn't always happen. There are theories that spirits are able to move where they want to, and essentially continue to live, just on another plane," Xavier tells me.
"Well, that's a little bit better," I say.
"Emma, I've heard you talking about energy. Feeling the people who have been hurt or killed in a place. You've told me you feel like the place someone was killed has been scarred," Sam says.
"I know," I say. "And that is how I feel."
"What do you think that is?" he asks.
"Empathy?" I suggest.
"It's more than empathy," Sam says.
"Alright, how about people hearing footsteps in their attics. Or having things move around their houses?" Bellamy pipes up. "All the different members of the family hear them. Even people who are just visiting and nobody told them. What could that be other than the ghosts of the people who were in that house before? Or who had a house there before?" Bellamy asks.
"Am I seriously finding out right now that I am surrounded by people who believe ghosts are just floating around us all the time?" I roll my eyes.
"Murderers in the attic," Xavier says.
"There. At least I have Xavier. Wait… what?"
"Murderers in the attic. Bellamy asked what it could be other than ghosts when people hear footsteps in their attics and have things moving around in their houses. A murderer in the attic is what else it could be," he says.
"Is that just a guess that you have?" Sam asks. "Or is this first-hand knowledge?"
"On March thirty-first, nineteen twenty-two…"
"Of course, he has an example."
"In Hinterkaifeck…"
"Well, that doesn't sound local," notes Eric.
"Bavaria," I explain.
"The land of pretzels," Xavier nods.
"Was that an ethnic culinary generalization or are we back on your food planet?" asks Sam.
"How did you possibly know where that was?" Bellamy asks.
I shrug. "I've been around Xavier so much it's entirely possible I've started absorbing stuff from him."
"Actually, that's not possible at all," Xavier says.
"But a person's soul falling out of his body and floating around into perpetuity is totally plausible?" I ask.
"Ghosts aren't souls. They're collections of energy and manifestations of consciousness,” he retorts as if it’s the most obvious thing in
