by Rick Kueber
So much for a night out on the town, I thought. I couldn’t bring myself to go out now, and there were way too many things whirling through my head to even consider sleep. I was excited about the potential of tomorrow and the potential of the future buzzed through my mind. I suppose that is why I forgot to turn off the alarm on my phone, and why I awoke to it at 6 a.m. still dressed and on my couch. It was barely light outside, but I found myself wide awake and strangely starving. I had fallen asleep at some point and had slept all night, peaceful and dreamless, without waking even once, which was unusual for me.
After a long hot shower, I dressed in my best jeans and black dress shirt. I chose not to wear anything with the team logo on it out of respect for the good doctor’s request to ‘keep it confidential’. Just in case someone she knew might be there, I didn’t want our meeting to make her feel uncomfortable or conspicuous. I devoured a banana and a piece of toast with strawberry jelly. That should hold me over until lunch, I thought to myself.
I was always calm and collected when I met someone about an investigation, about joining the team, or even speaking in public, but when I pulled into the parking lot at Barnes & Noble, my stomach was in knots. I didn’t know why, but I had an overwhelming feeling that soon I would understand.
It was 10:47 a.m. when I opened the front entrance to the bookstore. I spotted our friend Theo Kostaridis, a Greek psychicmedium who worked there and often invited us to speak at his lectures and seminars. We had helped each other out on a few different cases in the past, but today I was supposed to be more incognito, so I gave him a friendly wave and continued on to the coffee shop. I always liked to arrive early. When it is a first meeting, I usually wore an EVP shirt or jacket to make myself easy to find. This time it was different. I was being discreet, but I hoped the doc had taken a good look at my photos on the website and would be able to recognize me. I walked to the counter to get a hot cappuccino, and then to find a good spot to meet. I slowly wandered through the shop, glancing around until I chose a semi private corner booth. I sat down facing the entrance and counter. I retrieved my digital recorder from my shirt pocket, turned it on and found an empty file to record our conversation. I laid my note book on the table in front of me and placed my pen neatly beside it, equally spaced from the top to the bottom. Yes, I have a slight case of OCD, but to hear it from the team, it’s a bit more than slight.
It was just then when a short woman walked in and nervously looked around as if searching for somewhere to hide. I smiled and nodded to her. If this was the doctor, she would hopefully recognize me, and if not, she would just think I was being friendly.
She had coal black hair pulled up in a clip exposing her round face which complimented her round figure. From the dark olive tone of her skin, I assumed she had an ethnic heritage, but I couldn’t place it at a glance. My first impression as she waddled over to the table was that of someone’s grandmother who was always cooking way too much for the family dinner on Sunday afternoons, the kind of person who would always bring a smile with a humorous story or anecdote. With a heavy sigh and her head down, she sat across from me. She placed her folded hands on the table and slowly wrenched them. She looked up slightly and I saw the watery eyes and nearly black pupils looking back at me over her librarian styled reading glasses.
“Hello, Dr. Covand?” I asked in as light of a tone as I could muster. She nodded in reply, never loosing eye contact. “Do you mind if I record this conversation to reference later?” She nodded again. I pressed the record button and placed it on the table between us. “Rick Kueber, Dr. Covand, first meeting, 11a.m. March 17th, 2010.” I paused briefly. “Can you tell me the basics to start, and then I would like to ask you some questions depending on what you tell me? Just start out simple with things like: who, what, when, and where.” I leaned back to give her some space, and opened my mind to absorb what she would say.
“I can’t live like this. She’s going to kill me.” She spoke sternly, and with the slightest hint of an accent, Brazilian, Colombian, maybe Cuban... I wasn’t sure, but her voice captivated me and I wanted to know more.
“Who is? Who do you think is trying to kill you?” I asked in my most rational tone, thinking to myself, either this really is a case for Sherlock, or I have a crazy one here. I continued, “Do you understand what kind of investigating we do here at EVP?”
“The burning girl…” She placed her pointer fingers under her glasses and rubbed away the tears. “That little burning girl won’t let me sleep, and she has planted herself in my head and I don’t know how to get her out.” As she spoke, I could feel the terror in her voice, the terror that drove Dr. Grand ma-ma to contact us, thinking we were her only hope.
“The little burning girl?” I questioned. “That sounds terrible. I can understand how something like that could keep you awake at night, and how a poor little girl burning to death would definitely haunt your memories. This may be a haunting that you have generated yourself, brought on by the energy of your own memories and grief.” I thought I already had a handle on this and would be able to solve her ‘haunting’ by helping her cope with her experience, and I wondered when this happened. Was this a repressed childhood memory that had just come to the surface, a recent experience, or maybe even something she had read or seen on TV.
“You don’t understand at all.” She said with conviction. “This girl, this thing… it’s evil. I don’t know who or what she is, or why she hates so much... to cause me this much pain. I think I know where she came from, but that is a story, not for today.” She hesitated for a moment. “If you are willing to try to help me, I must warn you. She will do the same to you.”
“Have you ever been burned?” She asked rhetorically, not allowing me to answer. “I’m sure you have. Imagine that feeling all over your body… from the inside out. Imagine seeing terrifying things you can’t even imagine being real. If you try to help me, she will do this to you.” I reached a comforting hand out to Dr. Covand, but she quickly jerked away.
“She is in my head right now. If you touch me, she could get in your head too. When you called yesterday, I sat my phone down and pushed the talk button as quickly as I could and kept the conversation as short as possible. I don’t know how but when she first came to me, I think it was through the phone, my niece’s phone. It is not anything I can understand, but if you want to come to my house, away from other people, I can explain more. I can show you, but know this; if she comes to you… you will wish she hadn’t….” She drew a deep breath as a tear broke free and rolled down her face. She exhaled a breathy sigh. “…and you may not be able to stop her. I want no one to experience what I have, but if you want to try to help and you understand the risk….” She glared over her dark rimmed glasses and her tone went flat. She spoke the next three words in slow desperation. “I...need...help.”
“I want to help, and I will help…we will help you.” I said with growing confidence. She stood up quickly and dropped her business card on the table. “You can change your mind at any time, but if you want to truly understand what I need help with, come to my house tomorrow morning at 10 a.m. The address is on my card.” And with that she did an abrupt turn and hastily walked out.
Stunned, I picked up my recorder and pushed the ‘stop’ button. I took the card in my hand and could see it was a business card for her dental office. On the back she had neatly penned her home address. I placed the card and my recorder in my shirt pocket, took one last drink of my cappuccino, grabbed my note book and headed for the door.
***
I found myself at home before I knew it, and wondered how I got there. There were so many thoughts and questions running through my mind, I couldn't concentrate on anything else. I hated the thought that someone was so disturbed by something paranormal, and a part of me hoped it was not true, but another part of me hoped it was, at least to some degree.
I went into the office and grabbed my headphones. I unwrapped the cord and plugged it into the digital recorder as I w
alked to the living room and plopped down on the couch. Once the recorder was powered up and the file was located, I began to listen intently to the recorded conversation between the doctor and I. It was short, less than ten minutes from start to finish, but I dissected every word, and tried to feel the emotion that each one held. It was almost heart breaking, but I listened over and over again.
Just under an hour later, when I was listening to the recording for the fourth time, something caught my attention. By this time I was able to recall simple things like the expression on her face as she said certain things, certain background conversations, and sounds as people came and went, but there was a voice, however short, that did not fit. I backed up the recorder a few seconds and listened again. I knew the moment. I actually remembered it very well. The doctor had said 'if you try to help me, she will do this to you'. Then, when I reached out to place my hand on hers to comfort her there was a breathy voice. Child-like, or female, it was hard to tell. But the thought in my head when I heard it was of an animated cobra, a snake from one of my favorite childhood stories. All it said, or hissed was “YESSSSSSS...” I backed up the recorder a few seconds and listened again and again and again. There was no denying it, and it didn't fit in with any other sound or voice on the recording. The hair on my arms stood on end, and I realized, the doc was right. This thing, this burning girl as the doc had described it, wanted me to touch her. She wanted to get to me as well; at least that was how my mind perceived it. Had I known everything that was to transpire at that moment, I would have seriously considered closing the door on this case. The part of me that was the true paranormal investigator would never do that. I suddenly realized this was a true opportunity to help someone who needed it more than anyone we had met in the past. I was excited, nervous, nauseous (to a degree) and though I really never admit that I have ever been scared, part of me was petrified!
I struggled with the possibilities all evening, and when dinner time came and went, I didn't even notice. I wanted to call Jenn and Katie and tell them about the meeting and the e.v.p. (electronic voice phenomenon) that I had captured, but I knew as soon as I did there would be a trio showing up at Dr. Covand's door, and I was pretty certain she wasn't ready for that. She definitely wouldn't be expecting it.
I decided it would be best to get some rest. Perhaps that was not such a great decision. I fell fast asleep, but it was not a peaceful one.
It felt like I was trying to wake from a deep sleep far too early. Everything was aglow and blurry. Brightly colored light of orange and yellow danced all around me and I began to feel the heat growing as I rubbed my eyes and tried to focus. Pulling my hands away from my eyes, I could now see more clearly. I found myself in a room surrounded by fire. I attempted to be rational and dissect the situation.
The room I was in looked very much like a museum or movie set. Everything looked new, but from an antebellum time period. The flames seemed to only surround me, and not the rest of the room. Not yet, anyway. I screamed with every ounce of energy I could muster, “HELP ME! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME!?”, but I was taken aback. My lips and tongue moved, my muscles strained but the words I attempted to speak did not come out. Somehow my breath pushed forth the voice of a child, a young girl crying, “Daddy! Don't leave me! Daddy please!”
I could see the men and women in black through the front window of the room, and the hazy, smoke filled air. One of them must be 'daddy' I thought as I watched the flames grow and the watchers turn to leave. I decided to try my luck by running through the flames and out of the house. I burst forward only one and a half steps before the horrible realization hit me. I was stopped by the shackle around my ankle that was tethered to the old stone fireplace.
My efforts were worse than in vain. My lunge forward and abrupt stop caused me to fall forward with my arms, shoulders and head landing directly in the searing flames. I screamed out in agony and before I could withdraw myself from the flames, I smelled the putrid odor of burning hair and human flesh, felt the horrid fiery sensations, and the feelings of helplessness, hopelessness, rage and anger all at once. I raked my charred fingertips across my face and the blistered skin peeled away causing such an intense pain that I couldn't fathom enduring such a feeling without losing
consciousness. With a sudden jerk, I awoke. My body and the sheets drenched in sweat. I exhaled a huge sigh and wiped my brow and face with the damp sheet. “Oh my god, what a nightmare.” I said out loud to myself.
I tossed and turned the rest of the night. Though I laid in bed for well over eight hours, I may have slept for three or four and part of that was this night terror that kept me from not only falling back asleep, but from wanting to sleep. When 6 a.m. came, I decided there was no point lying in bed any longer. Exhausted as I was, I could no longer pretend to rest. What was the point? I dragged myself to the kitchen to put on a strong pot of Colombian coffee, and then to the shower. I turned on the hot water until the room filled with steam. I stepped into the shower and closed the curtain and just stood there allowing the water to pour down over me turning my skin pink from the heat. It felt so good, and I couldn't help but think of an old Irish Spring soap commercial where people's eyes would open wide and they would smile at the scent of the soap as they showered. I thought to myself, 'god I need a bar of that soap right about now!'
Once I was finished with my shower, I pulled back the curtain and stood there in the steam filled room as I drip dried for a few minutes. I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my waist, ran my fingers through my short hair and glanced up at the fogged mirror. It had been so steamy that droplets of water actually began to form on the mirror. Something odd caught my eye. There were actually a few spots on the mirror that weren't steamed up, and it almost resembled eyes, maybe a face. Then the droplets on the mirror grew heavy and began to run down around the 'eyes' resembling long straggly hair. It unnerved me for a moment, until I decided that it must be just a coincidence. I quickly snatched up the shaving cream and lathered up. Then, with one swipe of my hand across the mirror, erased the menacing face.
“Get a grip.” I muttered to myself. I can't be this easily shaken. What if there is substantial activity today? I couldn't be gun shy, already jumping to conclusions and making assumptions. “Remember that the best end result of a haunting investigation is to be able to prove that there is no haunting.” I kept telling myself that over and over, but the voice in my head kept shouting my slogan, 'Keep your eyes and mind wide open.'
So many times I have heard, 'do not wear cologne to an investigation' but I rarely heed that advice. If a phantom smell is all I have to go on, then I'm not buying into any haunting or paranormal activity, besides, you can't capture a smell as proof of the paranormal, right? Once I was shaved and dressed, I splashed on a little aftershave and wandered into the office to grab a few items for today's meeting.
I plugged the address on the back of the card into my GPS, and headed out to see what the doc had to tell me at her home that she couldn't at the coffee shop. A short time later I found myself driving through a newer neighborhood and pulling up in front of a very nice brick home with arched windows and multiple gables. Not your typical haunted house, I thought to myself, and it brought a smile to my face. I walked up the exposed aggregate drive and sidewalk past the well-manicured lawn and immaculate tiered landscaping. I was beginning to think that I was right not to tell the team yet. This was probably another false alarm haunting. Perhaps the EVP was just a misplaced voice and I was simply allowing my mind to be irrational. I rang the doorbell and stood up straight. Even if there was no haunting, this was a dentist with a degree and some good connections. I wanted to be as professional as possible. Maybe she would tell her friends and associates about our professionalism and proper conduct. If nothing else, it was a good way to get our name out to the community without paying for advertising.
The doc slowly opened the door and invited me in. She looked as tired and worn down as I felt, probably more so. I stepped into a grand
entry with tiled floors, an open winding staircase to the left and sparse, but obviously pricey, furniture and antiques.
“Would you like to come sit with me in the front room?” She spoke quietly, never making eye contact.
“If that's what you prefer, then certainly. Where does the activity happen mostly?” I couldn't help but ask. She stopped so abruptly in the doorway that I almost ran right into her. She answered in a low sober tone, her accent feeling heavy and thicker than usual, “Where ever I am.” and then continued into the front sitting room.
There were two very expensive, very comfortable looking, black leather chairs and a matching sofa surrounding an antique coffee table with a piece of beveled glass cut to fit over and protect the intricately 'sunburst' stained table top.
I politely asked, “Dr. Covand, do you mind if I record this session also?” as I removed the digital recorder and the K-II meter from my pockets.
“Do whatever you need to.” she replied frankly. “And is it alright to set these here on the coffee table between us?” I asked once again as I took a seat in one of the comfy chairs and turned on the recorder.
“Certainly.” she said, and a smile almost broke the surface of her concerned expression. I placed the two items on the table as she sat down on the sofa across from me crossing her hands on her lap very properly. The red light shone plainly on the recorder. The K-II has a series of five lights, two green, one yellow, one orange and one red. I depressed the power button on the K-II meter and it flashed sequentially from green to red twice and then back to one single green light as it always does when powered up. I stared at it for a moment, waiting for a second light to flash, but nothing happened.