“No.”
2
Kimberly passed a tissue across the table to Danielle. Years of experience taught her to come prepared for tears. She knew the cameraman would zoom in for a close-up. Stan was a pro. She covered the woman’s hand with her own and squeezed. “What happened next?”
“It’s just so difficult to talk about, you know?”
“Absolutely. But we’re here to help, Danielle. We need to know what we’re dealing with.”
Danielle nodded and dabbed the tears from her cheeks. “I started seeing him while I was pregnant.”
Now they were getting somewhere. Even though she already knew what happened, they needed it on camera. Getting people to share while the cameras rolled was the hard part. But that was why she got paid the big bucks. She nodded, encouraging Danielle to keep talking.
“I couldn’t sleep toward the end, you know? I was so big and uncomfortable, and Joshua was so active at night. I thought he was throwing a party in there.” Danielle offered a watery smile through her tears. “The first night I saw him, I got up ’cause I craved cheese. A midnight snack, you know? So rather than thrashing around wide-awake in bed, I got up to get something to eat.”
“The first time you saw the apparition, you mean?” She needed to keep the woman focused. Her one-hour time slot didn’t allow for extraneous chatter. And she didn’t pull in top ratings by discussing midnight snacks. They would edit that out.
“Yes.” Danielle’s eyes widened. “People are going to think I’m crazy, but I know what I saw.”
“Danielle, tell us what happened that night.” She leaned forward to allow Stan to get some wide-angle shots of both of them.
“I fixed a plate of cheese and pretzels and crackers. It just sounded so good, you know? And I sat down at the dining table to eat.”
“This table, Danielle? Where we’re sitting now?” Kimberly placed both hands on the table.
Danielle nodded, her eyes even wider. “Yes. Right here where we are. And I heard a weird noise in the backyard.” The woman gestured to the door behind her.
Kimberly watched Stan motion to the other, younger cameraman, TJ, who zoomed in on the door.
“What did you do when you heard the noise?”
“At first, nothing. I thought it was my imagination or the wind or something. But it kept getting louder. Sounded like it was coming closer.”
“What did it sound like?”
“Kind of like a whisper or a rustle. I don’t know. Then there was an awful sound. Almost like a howl or a scream. A wailing noise. It got louder and louder. I could hardly breathe I was so scared. I almost yelled for Stephen, but I didn’t want to wake up Drew. Once a toddler wakes up in the night, you can’t get them back to sleep, you know?”
“Of course.” She didn’t know the first thing about toddler sleep patterns but nodded anyway. “So what did you do?”
“I told myself I was being silly. I went to the door to open the blinds so I could see out. And that’s when I saw him.” Danielle choked up again, covering her eyes with the tissue.
“Him?”
Danielle nodded, the tissue pressed to her eyes, and whispered, “Felix.”
Kimberly’s brow furrowed briefly. None of her research or interviews mentioned that name. Mindful of the cameras, she hid her confusion, smoothing her features. “Felix?”
“I flipped on the back light, and there he sat on the porch, staring right at me. Just like he used to when I was a little girl. Those eyes . . . I knew he hated me. He arched his back and hissed. Just like he used to.”
“Danielle, tell us who Felix is.”
“He’s . . . he was . . . my grandmother’s cat. But he died when I was twelve.”
“Most people might think you’re getting worked up over nothing. It’s just a cat, right? Why not just ignore it?”
Danielle’s head snapped up. “You don’t understand. You didn’t know this cat. He was vicious. Creepy. Weird yellow eyes, razor-sharp teeth, and long claws. Like the Pet Sematary cat.”
“How so? Why were you so scared of him?”
The young woman shuddered. “He scratched me and hissed at me. He hid under the couch and pounced on my feet when I walked by. I hated him. And I knew he hated me. One night, he crept into the bedroom where I slept at Grandma’s house, sat on my chest, and pushed his nose against my mouth. I think he wanted to smother me. And no one believed me. Not my mom and definitely not my grandmother. That cat terrified me when I was little. I couldn’t stand going to my grandmother’s house because of Felix.”
She nodded. “Folklore surrounding cats goes back centuries. People once believed cats sucked the breath from sleeping children. And, of course, cats were used as familiars by women practicing witchcraft.” She made a mental note to have her researcher look into any history of witchcraft in the area. The thought crossed her mind that perhaps Danielle’s grandmother had been a witch. One look at the weeping young mother told her this was not the time to ask.
“I was . . . I was glad when he died, even though my grandmother cried for weeks.”
“And why do you think you saw a vision of your grandmother’s deceased cat instead of, say, a stray that wandered into your yard?”
“No, it was Felix. I knew that without a doubt. The color of the fur, the markings, the gleaming yellow eyes. And the way he acted. After all these years, he’s back to terrorize me again.” The woman broke down into another fit of sobs.
“I’m so sorry.” Kimberly offered another tissue to replace the damp, wadded mass in Danielle’s hand.
“Thank you.” The woman blew her nose and took a deep, shuddering breath. “When I saw Felix on the back porch, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak or call for Stephen. Something paralyzed me. I blinked a few times, trying to make the image disappear. But it didn’t. Then he turned and walked back toward the yard . . . and disappeared. Just faded away.”
“What did you do then?”
“I screamed, which woke up Stephen.” Danielle gestured to her husband, who stood on the other side of the room, waiting for his turn in front of the camera. He shifted from one foot to the other and ran a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t sleep after that—I was so shaken, you know? He thought I dreamed it.”
“How can you be sure you didn’t?”
Danielle took another deep breath. “I saw him again. He keeps coming back.”
“How often have you seen him?”
“Gosh, I’ve lost count now. Almost every night. Every time I get up, I’m terrified I’ll see him. I hear him wailing and hissing.” Tears dripped from her eyes, spilling onto her cheeks.
“What is it you’re hoping for by inviting me to your home? How do you want me to help?”
Danielle leaned forward and grabbed her hand. “I’ve watched your show for years. I’ve seen you clear houses of all sorts of entities. I hope . . . I hope you can make him go away. I want him to leave me alone. I never want to see that cat again.”
“And moving isn’t an option?”
“No. We haven’t even been here a year. We lived in an apartment but decided to get a house when we found out Josh was on the way. It took everything we had to move in here. We can’t possibly afford to move again.”
Kimberly nodded, allowing the cameras to zoom in on her comforting smile before bringing the husband in.
“Stephen, won’t you join us?”
TJ spun his camera around, focusing on the husband, who looked as if he’d rather be anywhere but here. He rested a hand on his wife’s shoulder before he sat. Good. He’d remembered the instructions Michael had given him earlier. Appear supportive and reassuring, whether he believed his wife or not.
“Stephen, have you seen the apparition that’s scaring your wife?”
“No, ma’am. She doesn’t see it when I get up with her. I’ve tried. For weeks I got up almost every night. But nothing happened.”
“Do you believe your wife is seeing the ghost of her grandmother’s cat?”
Danielle cried softly. Stephen wrapped an arm around her and tugged her close, holding her head against him.
“And you believe I can help?”
“My wife sees something that scares her. I don’t know what it is, but she sees something. Please figure out what’s going on. I just want my wife to find peace again.”
She stood and spoke directly to the camera. “What caused Danielle’s nightmare from her childhood to haunt her in the present? Is the spirit of her grandmother’s cat still wandering the earth, drawn to the descendent of his former owner? Or is something more menacing and dangerous prompting these nighttime visits? Stay with me as I unravel the mystery of the prowling ghost cat and bring peace back to this family. Tonight on The Wantland Files.”
3
Kimberly allowed herself a glance at Michael after the scene cut. Normally he flashed a thumbs-up and a huge smile after a successful scene. But he wasn’t even looking at her. Back turned, he seemed deep in conversation with someone she couldn’t see. What was so important he couldn’t even acknowledge her? Rude.
Stan’s voice drew her attention from Michael. “Hey, Kimberly. You want to try to squeeze in the walk-through before lunch?”
She threw a glance at Danielle, who was drying her eyes while Stephen sat beside her. Michael still focused on the other person. When he threw his head back and laughed, she made her decision. “After lunch. We all need a break.” And she needed to learn who Michael found so delightful.
“Ms. Wantland?” Danielle called from the table.
She stopped in her tracks and turned away from Michael and his visitor, forcing a smile on her face. “Yes?”
“You don’t think I’m crazy, do you?”
“Not at all.”
“What do you think is happening?”
She sank into a chair. “Hard to say without some investigation. Any number of things could cause it. I’ve seen residual and active hauntings where the entity is attached to the house. Instances where the spiritual energy is tied to a particular object. This case intrigues me for two reasons. First, the disturbance appears to be fixated on you personally. And second, the arrival of the apparition seems to correlate with the birth of your second child.”
Danielle’s eyes widened. “So you think Felix is out to get Josh?”
“I didn’t say that. We need to take some readings, investigate, and spend time in the house before we can formulate any hypothesis about what’s happening here.”
She stood up, looking for Michael, but he was gone. “Let’s break, have lunch, and I’ll start preparing for our walk-through with the crew. Okay?”
She walked away before Danielle could respond. This time Stephen intercepted her.
“Ms. Wantland?” He crossed the few steps she’d managed to put between them.
He leaned close and spoke in a hushed tone, keeping his back to the dining table where his wife sat. “You don’t need to encourage her. In fact, I prefer you didn’t.”
She noticed the deep concern in his eyes. A skeptic. She curled her hand around the quartz crystal hanging around her neck and took a deep breath. “I’ll bear that in mind as we move forward with the investigation. But I’m here to discern the truth. Whatever that may be. I advise you to bear that in mind. You may not like what I find.”
“Kimmy?”
She gritted her teeth, fighting the urge to reply, “Yes, Mikey?” Only Michael called her by the detested nickname. Anyone else dumb enough to try it never repeated it a second time.
She contemplated going straight to her trailer, pretending she hadn’t heard him. Instead she set her long, gauzy skirt twirling yet again.
“Kimmy, come say hi.”
Someone tall and wiry, dressed completely in black, stood beside Michael. Dark eyes stared at her from beneath a shock of unruly and equally dark hair. Recognition sparked somewhere in her mind. How did she know that face?
Three steps closer, he came into focus. The insolent smirk enabled her to dredge the proper name from the proper file.
What was he doing here?
“Come here, Kimmy.” Michael waved her forward. Her feet plodded one after another until she stood beside him. “Kimmy, this is Sterling Wakefield.”
“I know who he is.”
“And everyone knows who you are.” His smirk blossomed into a full smile as he grabbed her hand and shook it. “I’m flattered you know me. Always happy to meet a fellow entertainer.”
She disengaged her hand, glaring at Michael. Why had he brought this man here? “I’m sorry, you’re mistaken. I’m not an entertainer. I’m a serious paranormal investigator—”
Sterling threw his head back and laughed. Laughed at her. “Fastest flip from smile to frown I’ve ever seen.”
“You got that right.” Michael threw an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t make our Kimmy mad. She’s got an open line to call down vengeful spirits.”
“Right. Sure.” Sterling winked.
“Hey, Michael. We need your opinion on camera angle.” Stan motioned down the hall.
“Okay, you two. Let me see what they need to get set up, and we can have lunch together.” He gave her a look that clearly told her to behave, squeezed both of their arms, and left them alone.
“Sorry,” Sterling said. “Didn’t mean to call you an entertainer in front of your latest marks.” He jerked his head to indicate Danielle and Stephen. “You need to maintain the illusion for them.”
The man had no tact. She curled her hand around her crystal and breathed deeply. “I’m not maintaining an illusion. And please don’t insult these nice people with such a crass term as marks. As if I’m pulling a fast one on them.”
“Come on. You can’t kid a kidder.”
“I’m not trying to kid anyone.”
“Right. Not in front of the clients. I gotcha.” He winked again. “So. Have you seen my show?”
“Yes, Mr. Wakefield. I’m familiar with your show. I’ve also seen your video calling me a fraud and challenging me to let you come on my show.”
“Please call me Sterling, Kimmy.” His eyes danced as he drew the word out, almost as if he knew it would set her off.
She gritted her teeth. She didn’t think anything could irritate her more than calling her Kimmy, but that smirk came close. “It’s Kimberly, thank you.” She focused on deep, calming breaths. In. Out. Unclench the jaw.
“And yet Michael gets away with Kimmy. Hmm, I sense a story there.” He wiggled his eyebrows and propped his chin on a fist, shifting from one foot to another. He seemed to be waiting for her to fill him in. As if she would share anything with this sensationalist slime.
“No story. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to relax in my trailer and prepare for this afternoon.” No way could she endure an entire meal with this cretin. Michael would just have to understand.
Michael rounded the corner of the hall as she made her way to the front door. He wrapped an arm around her waist, lifted her off the ground, and swung her back toward Sterling.
“Michael! Put me down!”
Sterling laughed. “I need to remember that trick.” He clapped his hands while his eyes took her in. “The perils of weighing a hundred pounds. Dripping wet. With rocks in your pockets.”
“I told you—lunch today with Sterling and me.” He pointed a finger and gave her a look. Then he turned to the crew. “Okay, everybody. Lunch. Walk-through this afternoon.”
TJ sidled close to Sterling. “Excuse me, Mr. Wakefield? Could I have an autograph?”
“Of course.”
She attempted to edge away as the crew dispersed, and Sterling went with TJ to find a pen. “Really, Michael, I just want to relax—”
“Nope. Lunch.”
“Michael—”
“No whin
ing. I’d hoped you would cooperate. Since you won’t, you force me to tell you. This lunch is mandated by top brass. Network. Actually, the meeting is mandated. I just thought food might make it more palatable.” The corners of his lips twitched as he watched her face. “Get it? Palatable?”
Network? Some suit insisted she meet with Sterling? No. That could only mean one thing. Surely not.
“Come on,” Michael said, bumping her with an elbow. “You haven’t heard the news yet. Don’t go all pale and deflated on me. How long have we known each other? Would I let anyone hurt my Kimmy?”
The edges of her crystal dug into her palm and fingers. She didn’t even remember wrapping her hand around it.
Michael chucked her under the chin. “I thought we’d go off-site. I saw a quiet little sandwich place on Main Street I’m dying to try. Maybe we can sneak in and out before anyone recognizes you. And I hear the food is fabulous.”
“I’ll let Rosie know I’ll be back in an hour or so for touch-ups and relaxation.”
“That’s my girl. And smile. It’s not that bad. I promise.”
4
Kimberly nodded her thanks to the waitress who placed a house salad in front her. She would’ve preferred a spinach salad with strawberries and pecans tossed in olive oil and balsamic vinaigrette, but this would do. Especially since it was the only salad on the menu.
“And dressing on the side,” the waitress added, setting a plastic cup of low-fat Italian next to her plate. The young woman hovered a moment, twisting her fingers together and beaming at her. “I’m a huge fan, Ms. Wantland. I watch your show every week. I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Thank you. Always nice to meet a fan of the show.”
“Can you tell me what building you’re investigating?”
“I prefer to respect my clients’ privacy. But you’ll see your city on television when the episode airs. This is our season finale.”
The girl squealed. “I can’t wait. Could I . . . could I have your autograph?”
The Wantland Files Page 2