* * *
Mr. Smith had awakened during the night to the sound of a rhythmic thumping in the house. Thump, thump, thump, pause, thump. Quiet. Thump, thump, thump, pause, thump. Quiet.
Out in the hall, he followed the muffled thuds toward the stairs. At the top step, he stopped and pivoted toward the noise seemingly coming from Jared's bedroom. He listened outside Jared's room, careful not to open the door too quickly. The thumping had ceased. Jared lay in bed, sound asleep. When Mr. Smith turned to leave the room, the thump returned. Except this time, he pinpointed the noise as coming from underneath Jared's bed.
He peered under the bed but saw nothing. He sat on the floor for a few minutes but heard nothing more. Then he returned to bed and lay next to wife, pondering the source of the thump until he finally fell asleep nearly an hour later.
But the noise occasionally returned. Always at night. And always pounding from within Jared's bedroom.
*
"You don't understand," Jared cried. "Stop asking me what's wrong. I can't tell you!"
Mr. Smith and his wife knelt on the floor near Jared, huddled in a corner of his bedroom.
"Talk to us, Jared," his mother said. "We want to know how we can help you."
Jared sobbed, "You can't. Nobody can help me now."
Pulling his son close, Mr. Smith cradled Jared's head to his chest. "You can tell us anything. We love you." He smoothed Jared's hair and gently rocked from side to side. "What happened? Did something happen with one of your friends? With Levi?"
Jared's shoulders shook as he wept. "Because I love . . ."
"What, honey?" his mother asked. "You love who?"
Mr. Smith tightened his grip, expecting to hear his son cry out Levi's name.
Instead, Jared muttered between desperate gasps of air, "Because I love all of you."
*
Psychologist Dr. Lenora Nolin consulted with Jared's parents to discuss their concerns about their son. The next day she conducted her first session with Jared in her dimly lit, wood-paneled office on the second floor of a plain-looking, stone office complex. She informed Mr. and Mrs. Smith that she found Jared to be in good spirits and exhibiting no signs of clinical depression. However, she'd detected an underlying reluctance by Jared to speak openly, which had required her to direct most of the conversation. At the end of the session, she had no clear objective other than listening to Jared and identifying possible issues through his words and behavior.
The second session unfolded much like the first. However, Jared had expressed some anxiety about his upcoming senior year.
During the third session Jared had revealed dismay at having to continue seeing Dr. Nolin. Clearly agitated, he spent a majority of the fifty minutes sulking.
Toward the end of the fourth session, Jared voiced his intention to end therapy. He'd said that his parents' insistence to continue was a waste of the doctor's time. When she'd suggested that he consider at least a few more sessions before not returning, her cup of coffee slid across the end table and fell to the floor.
Jared's demeanor had changed several minutes into the fifth session. "I don't need to be here. You're talking to the wrong person."
She'd asked, "Who should I be talking to instead?"
A series of loud thumps sounded throughout the office.
She watched him closely to observe whether he was discreetly stomping his feet. "What's the banging about?"
"That's who you should be talking to, not me."
"Who?"
The thumping banged under her chair, causing it to vibrate.
* * *
Lou dipped his chin with a single nod. "So, the presence was no longer just in Jared's bedroom or your house. It traveled with him."
Mr. Smith pounded his fist onto the bar three times, paused, and then pounded once more. "It was the same pattern I'd heard coming from under Jared's bed." He stood and stretched, finally removing his trench coat and carefully draping it over the stool. "She terminated the sessions that afternoon because the banging unnerved her, but also because she felt like continued therapy might do more harm than good since Jared's attitude had worsened in response to it."
"Did you call another therapist?"
"No. That's when I knew we weren't dealing with psychological issues. I reached out to our church and talked to Father O'Leary."
"What did you say to him?"
Mr. Smith carried his mug to the coffee maker. "May I use the restroom?"
"Yeah, of course. Go ahead. I need to stretch my legs. Would you like another cup of coffee?"
"Maybe just half."
Lou filled the two mugs and then searched the refrigerator for a snack. Stella had allowed him to use her suite for the interview. He didn't want Mr. Smith walking into the cheaper, less updated hotel where he'd booked a room. It would have given the wrong impression. A nice-looking, spacious suite implied that Lou was a professional not out for personal gain. At least, that's the way Lou perceived it. Now he stood in the kitchenette unsure of what was available to him.
He placed a partially eaten tray of fruit, vegetables, and cheese onto the breakfast bar. Once Mr. Smith returned, he gestured to the food. "Please, feel free."
Mr. Smith selected a small batch of green grapes. "I researched you after getting your business card."
"Oh. Well, I think that was the right thing to do. After all, I was a stranger walking up to you on the street."
"I skimmed through some of your most well-known cases."
"I've done this work for nine years. My partner, Dave would know the exact number, but I think I've conducted upwards of a hundred and seventy cases."
"That's impressive." Mr. Smith dropped a grape stem onto a napkin and then sipped his coffee. "I didn't see any possession cases listed."
"There aren't any. I've investigated cases where a person claimed that a spirit entered their body or somehow got into their head to manipulate their mind. But no bona fide demonic-possession cases."
Mr. Smith's face seemed to brighten without smiling. "Hearing about Jared
