Ghosts of Guthrie: The Wantland Files, #3

By Lara Bernhardt

"In GHOSTS OF GUTHRIE, Lara Bernhardt not only tells a tale full of excitement, terror, and compelling characters--a narrative that roars like a speedboat down the River Styx; she also does it against a profound background of ideas about faith and what it means in modern-day America. Like her protagonist Kimberly Wantland, Bernhardt explores otherworldly questions she knows have no easy answers, determined to shed some light on what she discovers. It's a wonderfully satisfying and cinematic novel, richer and deeper than it has any right to be."--John Wooley, author of Wes Craven: The Man Aand His Nightmares and co-author of The Cleansing trilogy

★ KBR 2021 Semi-Finalist Horror/Suspense ★

The ghosts of the past always return to haunt you. 

Psychic paranormal investigator Kimberly Wantland has gained celebrity with her hit television show The Wantland Files, resolving hauntings for people with nowhere else to turn. When a desperate family in Guthrie, Oklahoma pleads for help, she can't say no—even though she and her crew have no idea the secrets they're about to uncover.

The Johnsons are a gentle, God-fearing family, with deep roots in the history of Guthrie. Their youngest daughter, Faith, has come down sick. And no doctor can cure this mysterious illness.

With a mob of protestors harassing her every move, a poltergeist plaguing the family, and her relationship with Sterling heating up, Kimberly faces her most difficult case yet. But nothing stays buried forever. Kimberly will face down hell itself to defeat the spirit possessing Faith and to put the ghosts of Guthrie to rest.  

• Language: English
• Publisher: Admission Press
• Release date: Apr 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9781955836043

Lara Bernhardt

Lara Bernhardt is a Pushcart-nominated writer, editor, and audiobook narrator. She is Editor-in-Chief of Balkan Press and also publishes a literary magazine, Conclave. Twice a finalist for the Oklahoma Book Award for Best Fiction, she writes supernatural suspense and women's fiction. You can follow her on Amazon and on all the socials @larawells1 on Twitter and @larabern10 on Facebook, BookBub, and Instagram.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Faith heard something in the hall. Shh! What was that?

Her friends Dakota, Parminder, and Yumeko shook their heads, eyes wide.

Faith held up her hands for quiet and tiptoed across the room. She turned the knob and cracked the door just enough to peek out. Nothing. She breathed a sigh of relief, clicking the door shut. It was nothing. I still don’t think we should though. Mom would freak.

Dakota held a Ouija board across her lap. She’ll never know! Come on. It’s fun. Seriously. I didn’t believe it would work the first time I tried it, but it does!

Faith eyed the forbidden Ouija board, a knot of fear developing in her stomach. Nah. We better not. Anyone want more snacks? I think there’s some pizza left.

Pizza at midnight? Parminder asked.

How can you think about food when we could be talking to ghosts? Dakota asked. Let’s vote! Who wants to try it?

Yumeko shrugged. It’s Faith’s birthday party. If she doesn’t want to try the Ouija board, don’t make her.

Dakota’s face fell. But it’s fun. We’re thirteen, you guys. We can handle it.

I’ve never tried one, Yumeko said, eyeing the board.

Faith took a deep breath. Her friends all clearly wanted to play it. What should she do? Risk discovery by her mother or disappoint her friends? Either choice could hold dire consequences. Why did Dakota have to bring that thing anyway? Her heart hammered. If my mom and dad—

We’ll be quiet. Dakota lifted a plastic piece with three felt-tipped legs from the box. She set it beside the board. Who wants to go first?

Yumeko scooted closer to Dakota. I want to try it. What do we do?

Sit like this. Dakota crossed her legs. She unfolded the board and rested it on their knees to make a little table between them. Hold your legs still. And keep the board completely flat. We don’t want the planchette to slide off.

The what?

Dakota picked up the plastic piece. The planchette. The spirits will use it to answer our questions. It’s so cool! I can’t wait for you guys to see.

Parminder huddled closer, leaning over the board to watch.

Faith took a deep breath, checked the hallway again, then knelt beside the board. She’d never seen one in person and couldn’t help noting details. The words YES and NO were printed in the upper corners, GOOD BYE along the lower edge. All the letters of the alphabet arched across the center of the board in two rows, with the numbers one through ten in a line below that.

Dakota placed the planchette gently on its felt feet. Okay. Yumeko, rest just your fingertips on the edge of it. Like this. Not too much pressure or you’ll push it.

Yumeko nodded, focused on the board in front of her.

Dakota closed her eyes. Oh, spirits, come to us. Answer our questions.

Yumeko stared intently at the board. Nothing is happening.

We didn’t ask anything. What do you guys want to know? We should start with something simple.

It’s moving! Yumeko squealed.

But we didn’t ask— H-A-P-P-Y B-I-R-T-H-D-A-Y.

Faith’s stomach fell.

Someone is talking to us! Dakota shrieked.

Did you two move it? Faith asked. She slept in this room and didn’t like the idea of an unseen entity creeping around. Tell the truth.

I didn’t! Yumeko said. I’m barely touching the thing. Look.

Ask it something! Parminder said.

Whose birthday is it? Dakota said.

F-A-I-T-H

Three sets of wide eyes turned to stare at her.

Faith leaned back. You guys, it’s not funny. Stop teasing.

Let’s ask it about something we don’t know, Yumeko said. Will we all get A’s this semester?

Hey! I’m supposed to ask the questions! Dakota said.

NO

Ha! Yumeko said. It doesn’t want you to ask anyway.

You don’t even understand. The board was saying no, we won’t all get A’s.

GOODBYE

Dakota scowled at Yumeko. You’re not doing it right so it’s leaving.

Someone knocked on the door.

Faith scrambled to her feet, waving her hands at the board, and whispered through gritted teeth. Hide it! Hide it!

The girls shoved the box and the board under the bed as someone knocked again, louder this time.

She crept to the door, peering over her shoulder to verify the forbidden game was hidden. Her friends all lounged casually, guilt and terror on their faces. She wanted to tell them to relax, but a third knock, slower and deliberate, focused her attention back on the door.

The moment she turned the knob to crack the door, her older sister, Rebecca, burst into the room, face illuminated by a candle. Boo!

Rebecca, shut up! she whispered as her friends squealed. You’ll get me in trouble. Mom and Dad said we better not wake them up.

Rebecca rolled her eyes. If I can hear you guys from down the hall, I guarantee Mom and Dad hear you downstairs. Their room is directly below yours and you four are making enough noise to wake the dead.

We are not!

What are you guys doing anyway? This looks like a pretty boring party. No makeovers? Movies? Nothing?

Makeovers? Faith scoffed. We’re thirteen. We’re not babies playing with makeup.

Dakota dove under the bed and retrieved the Ouija board. Yeah. We’re—

Rebecca’s jaw dropped. Oh my God, Faith. Mom will kill you if she sees that. Seriously, you guys are playing with a Ouija board?

Don’t tell, Faith pleaded.

Rebecca crept forward and knelt beside the board, pushing her long sandy-brown hair away from her face. Did you try it? Does it work?

It was working until Yumeko didn’t do it right, Dakota said. It even wished Faith a happy birthday!

Okay, but you guys know it’s her birthday. You could push the thing to spell that.

I didn’t push it! Yumeko insisted. And I didn’t mess it up, either.

Okay, so let’s test it, Rebecca said. Her eyes glowed as she stared at the board.

Rebecca, I don’t think we should use it anymore, Faith said.

Yumeko moved behind Rebecca and began braiding her hair.

Faith wished her sister would leave. Rebecca had promised not to crash her sleepover.

Here’s what we do, Rebecca went on as though Faith hadn’t spoken. One of you draw a symbol on a piece of paper, fold it up, and hide it. The two of us working the board won’t know what you drew. It’ll be very scientific.

That’s a great idea! Dakota shifted to face Rebecca, squaring her knees and placing the board between them. Parminder, draw something but don’t tell us what!

Faith, get a piece of paper for her, Rebecca directed, watching Dakota situate the planchette.

Rebecca is so bossy. This is my party. She almost told Rebecca to get out of her room. But her friends all looked to her so eagerly she withdrew a piece of paper and a pencil from her desk drawer and passed them to Parminder.

Parminder tapped the pencil against her lips, face scrunched in deep thought. What should I draw?

Rebecca waved her hands to hurry her up. Anything! Just don’t let anyone else see.

Parminder nodded and scratched the pencil across the paper, then folded it and passed it to Yumeko.

Everyone close your eyes a moment and breathe deeply, Dakota instructed. Imagine all your energy pouring into the planchette.

The girls sat in silence.

Dakota’s most serious voice asked, Are any spirits here with us tonight?

Faith opened her eyes, heart pounding, and stared at the planchette, praying it didn’t respond.

Nothing happened. She released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

Dakota scowled. Maybe it’s stuck.

Rebecca wiggled the plastic device and shrugged. Seems to move easily enough.

The planchette swooped to the upper left-hand corner of the board. YES.

The girls gasped.

Did you move it? Dakota asked.

I’m barely touching it, Rebecca said.

Dakota tried again. Is there a spirit here with us tonight?

No response.

Rebecca cleared her throat. Is there a spirit here?

The planchette drifted toward the alphabet, then settled again on YES.

Dakota stared at Rebecca. It wants to talk to you.

The planchette slid off and returned to the word YES.

Rebecca, this isn’t funny, Faith said. Put it away. Please.

It can’t hurt us. It’s only a game, Rebecca said, using the I’m-much-older-and-know-better voice Faith hated so much.

NO

See? It says it can’t hurt us.

Or that could mean, no, you’re wrong, it’s not just a game. You don’t know.

Scared of the lonely ghost, Faith?

Sometimes she hated her sister so much.

Whatever. She must be moving it, Dakota insisted.

NO

Stop it, Rebecca. That’s not funny!

One way to prove I’m not controlling it, Rebecca said. Spirit, what did Parminder draw on the paper?

The planchette jiggled but didn’t shift from the word NO.

What did Parminder draw on the paper?

The board sat still.

Faith sighed in relief. It doesn’t know. It doesn’t work. She began to giggle. Parminder and Yumeko joined her.

Rebecca scowled. Spirit—

S-T-A-R

Parminder’s hands flew to her mouth, eyes wide.

Faith looked to Yumeko, unfolding the paper. She stared at it a moment before turning the paper for the girls to see. It’s a star.

How did you know? Parminder whispered.

Look at the board, Rebecca said, her voice quivering. Faith had never heard her sister sound so shaken.

S-T-A-R S-T-A-R S-T-A-R

Who are you? Rebecca asked.

Rebecca, stop! Faith pleaded, near tears.

G-E-O-R-G-E

George?

YES

Why are you here, George?

D-E-A-D

How did you die?

H-A-N-G-E-D

Rebecca, stop!

But it’s working! Rebecca’s eyes gleamed. Why were you hanged?

H-O-R-S-E-S

Dakota broke her own rule and blurted, Why will you only talk to Rebecca?

W-I-F-E

Your wife’s name was Rebecca?

NO

Then what—

I W-A-N-T H-E-R

Rebecca yanked her hands from the planchette as if it burned her fingers. She’d gone pale.

Dakota jerked her hands away and shrieked, Don’t ever do that! You can’t handle a planchette alone!

Rebecca’s voice shook again. That’s enough. This thing is creepy. Put it away and I’ll make you girls some mocktails in the kitchen.

You guys, Parminder whispered. The board.

The planchette jiggled, though no one touched it. Slowly it drifted across the board, picking up speed until barely more than a blur.

W-A-N-T W-A-N-T W-A-N-T

Faith’s heart pounded and her stomach twisted into knots. It was real. This board was not a toy and they had somehow made contact with an actual spirit. Not a nice spirit. Not the kind of spirit they learned about in Sunday school, who floated around heaven singing God’s praises. They had no control over it.

Her best friends stood whimpering as the bewitched planchette continued the maniacal course across the board.

She had to stop it. Somehow.

Racing to the board, she dropped to her knees and grasped the white plastic piece.

Faith, no! Dakota screamed.

As her hand grasped the planchette, the closet door blew open. The candle flickered as a gust of air blasted through the room. The lamp beside her bed flickered on and off.

Faith, let go! Dakota screamed.

I can’t!

The planchette changed trajectory, spelling a new word over and over.

R-E-B-E-C-C-A R-E-B-E-C-C-A

Faith looked to her sister for guidance, but Rebecca pressed her fingers to her temples, shaking her head back and forth. What does it want? What do you want?

Exasperated voices carried from downstairs. Her parents.

She grabbed the horrid plastic thing in both hands, pulling as hard as she could as it continued to spell.

W-A-N-T R-E-B-E-C-C-A

Sweat dripped from her temples, though cold shards jabbed at her stomach. Let go! Go away!

The planchette suddenly released her and flew across the room, landing under her bed.

Her hand felt like fire. She looked down to find a bright red welt burned into her skin—in the shape of the planchette.

Heavy footsteps thumped up the stairs. All the girls looked to each other, fear in their eyes.

Rebecca took charge. Hide that thing! Where’s the white piece? Just hide the board and the box! All of you, stop crying! Come sit down in a circle again and pretend we’ve been telling ghost stories.

Faith watched her sister flop onto the floor, waving wildly to the others to sit back down with her.

Oh my God, Faith! Your hand! Never mind, I’ll bandage it later. Right now we’re in trouble.

We’re in more trouble than you think, Dakota said, settling beside Rebecca. I told you guys not to handle the planchette alone. That’s how you release the spirit into the world.

CHAPTER ONE

Kimberly Wantland stared out the window of The Wantland Files van, marveling at the lush forests blanketing the rolling hills. Until her crew investigated Crescent Hotel in Eureka Springs, she’d never been to the Ozarks and couldn’t get over how green they were. Nothing like the stark, barren mountains surrounding her hometown of Albuquerque. Back home, hues of beige, tan, and gray dominated. Seeing new places was one of the best things about her paranormal investigations.

Her show director, Michael, sang along to the radio as he drove them away from Eureka Springs toward their next destination. She glanced back at Rosie, her personal assistant/stylist/best friend, and Elise, the show’s lead researcher, in the middle seats. Rosie must surely be feeling each mile that took her farther from Lorenzo, the ghost tour guide she’d started dating at The Crescent Hotel. How long would her personal assistant last in a long-distance relationship? She hoped it would work out. Rosie deserved someone who treated her well, after years of disastrous relationships.

Stan and TJ, her camera operators, drove ahead of them in the unmarked equipment van.

She flicked her eyes to the side-view mirror outside her window, chiding herself for the umpteenth time for her lack of control. Sterling’s BMW i8 still trailed along behind them. And she still couldn’t catch a glimpse of him through the heavily tinted windows. So why did she keep trying?

She should close her eyes and sleep while she could. A nap could go a long way to recharging her batteries after a draining investigation. But she felt restless and couldn’t seem to relax.

Another glance at the side-view mirror brought the realization she had no control and vague irritation with herself. If Sterling had wanted her beside him in his car, he would’ve suggested it. But he didn’t. And she darned sure wouldn’t be the one to ask. I’ll ride in the van with Michael, I guess, was the most she’d been able to bring herself to say, hoping to prompt an offer of a ride in his new car. He could have, nay should have, been in the corporate vehicles like everyone else. But no, he’d missed the convoy when they headed out from Albuquerque for the season.

Why did this irritate her so much?

The van crossed a bridge, which spanned a breathtaking valley. She forced her attention away from the mirror and back to appreciating her surroundings. She would see Sterling soon enough but didn’t know when or if she would have the opportunity to see this beautiful part of the country again.

Rosie, seated behind Michael, leaned forward and patted her shoulder. We’ll need to stop for gas and a restroom break within the hour, girl. Don’t worry. I’ll have the perfect excuse cooked up to get you in his car by then.

I don’t know what you mean, she murmured, heat flushing her cheeks. Rosie knew her too well. Nothing escaped her best friend’s notice.

Michael glanced away from the road just long enough to give her his patented eye roll from hell. Puh-leeze. You’re not fooling anyone. Just ride with Sterling. Seriously. It’ll be a good chance for you two to bond and learn more about each other.

She opened her mouth to explain she didn’t want to leave them behind to endure Sterling’s insufferable arrogance and self-assured attitude, even for the chance to sit in that sweet ride with the cool butterfly doors. Cars didn’t impress her, so what did she care? She didn’t.

Before she could get one word out, Elise, normally withdrawn, cried out, I call shotgun!

You can have it, Rosie said. I’ll be in the backseat with binoculars texting her tips and making sure she doesn’t do anything silly.

Rosie! I do not need relationship tips! Especially not from—

Uh-uh, Rosie interrupted. I’m the only one of us currently in a relationship, therefore I am the learned scholar as far as you’re concerned.

She crossed her arms. I am single by choice. I don’t have time for any of the nonsense relationships inevitably bring.

The three of them laughed. If her cheeks weren’t red before, they were definitely flaming now. They could at least pretend the statement carried some truth. So she hadn’t found the right guy yet. She was a busy woman.

Michael’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen and passed the phone to her. Randmeier. Better take it for me. He knows we’re en route and that I’m driving so it must be important.

She accepted his phone, stomach in knots. What could be so important that their producer Randall Hoffmeier was calling? Was he upset with her? Had she done something wrong? Her pre-teen self squirmed within her, as if she were being called downstairs in trouble. She could still hear Dad’s deep baritone calling, Kimberly Annabelle Wantland! Come downstairs.

She shook her head, knowing she’d done nothing wrong, and accepted the call. Michael’s phone.

Kimberly! Randall calling. Michael beside you?

Yes, sir.

Good. We need to call an audible. Emergency situation. I’m sure you’ll see the request once you’re settled, but we have some frantic parents begging for help.

The season is already slated—

That’s what I said when the interns first brought this to me. But the parents keep calling, desperate. And the case sounds like a doozy. Where are you guys right now?

I’m not certain. Still in Arkansas I think. She shrugged and looked at Michael for confirmation.

He nodded. What’s up?

Tell Michael you guys need to divert to Guthrie in Oklahoma. You’re probably only about four hours or so away.

But—

Their child is sick, Kimberly. I know you can’t resist cases revolving around children. You have to go help. Besides, if this is as hot as I think it is, we can substitute it for any cases that fizzle and aren’t exciting enough. I’ll text you the address.

Okay, I’ll—

He ended the call.

She stared at the phone before passing it back to Michael.

He cocked an eyebrow. What was that?

He said— Her phone chimed her text tone—echoing footsteps. An address materialized on her phone in a text preview box. He said we’re going to Guthrie.

CHAPTER TWO

The smell inside the house burned Kimberly’s nasal passages and the back of her throat. She fought her gag reflex and struggled to maintain a passive countenance. Each breath slammed against her olfactory senses, laying siege to her determination. If the onslaught continued, she would need an excuse to step outside for fresh air.

Oddly, no matter how many sideways glances she cut to her coworkers, not one of them responded with an exaggerated gag or a quiet nod of understanding.

The Johnsons circled around their dining table—Daniel and Ruth and their daughters Rebecca and Faith. A cross hung on the wall above their buffet. A plaque beseeching BLESS THIS HOUSE AND ALL SOULS IN IT graced the opposite wall.

Stan and TJ, primary and junior camera operators, indicated they were ready. Michael counted her in.

In five . . . four . . . three . . . He held up two fingers, then one, then pointed at her.

Show time.

Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, thank you for reaching out to us and allowing us the privilege of investigating your disturbance.

Please, Mrs. Johnson interrupted, call us Daniel and Ruth. And we can’t thank you enough for being here. Especially on such short notice. I know you must have changed your schedule to accommodate us.

Kimberly offered her most comforting smile, mentally noting they would definitely need to edit out that last bit. With thousands of requests pouring in every day, most of which were declined due to time constraints, announcing they’d worked in this case as an emergency would only outrage the many turned away. Everyone considered their own case an emergency.

Can you tell us the nature of the disturbance? she asked Ruth. For once she didn’t have all the details prior to the interview.

The woman glanced at her husband, nodded, and took a deep breath. It was little things at first. Nothing that you’d pay attention to as an isolated incident. But they kept happening.

What kind of things? Can you give us examples?

Ruth waved her hands and looked to her husband. Oh, you know. Little things. Something isn’t where you know you left it. Things rolling off the counter. Things moving. Some things disappeared and we still haven’t found them. Just gone.

Such as?

First it was Faith’s stuffed bear she’s had since she was born. It was on her bed but vanished. Umm, one of my rings. Not expensive but great sentimental value. Rebecca’s prayer book. We turned the house upside down and they’re nowhere to be found.

The radio came on once when no one was near it, Daniel said.

That’s right! I’d forgotten that. Strange but not anything that really caused more than a pause. One morning, though, Daniel’s keys disappeared. It was more than just odd.

Made me late for work, he reminded Ruth.

Yes. We searched for over thirty minutes. Checked his pants pockets from the day before. Looked in the windows of the locked car. Counters, the bathroom, his nightstand. They were nowhere to be found.

I always leave them in the same place. There on that hook by the front door. He indicated a wooden coat rack mounted on the wall. A row of hooks sat below a small shelf, with the inscription HOUSE OF THE LORD above it. A ring of keys currently hung on one of the hooks.

I knew I hadn’t disturbed them, Ruth continued. I’m ashamed to admit we blamed the girls.

We kept telling them it wasn’t funny, Daniel said. But that wasn’t fair. They actually were helping search and didn’t behave as though they’d played a prank.

We knew for sure when it was time to take the girls to school. Both of them became quite upset at the prospect of a tardy. Suddenly, Snickers started whining and scratching at a shoe partly lodged under the couch. At the mention of his name, Snickers, a medium-sized dog of indeterminate breed, jumped to his feet, ears perked. We couldn’t get him to stop. We always leave our shoes by the door to reduce dirt and debris getting tracked in. I almost fussed at the girls again. Then I realized it was one of mine. I knew I’d left my shoes by the door, so I was really confused. I pulled the shoe from under the couch and it jangled.

My keys were in the shoe, Daniel said. And the shoe somehow got shoved under the couch.

And the dog found it? Sterling clarified.

Yes. He’s very smart, Ruth said, beaming at the dog. And always tuned in to our emotions. If we’re upset, he knows it and tries to help.

He seems very sweet. What kind of dog is he? Kimberly asked.

We don’t know. We rescued him from a shelter. He took right to us. We like to say he picked us.

Sterling smiled. And he knew you were looking for keys?

He must have. He knows lots of words and tricks. He’s very smart. Snickers, come. Ruth snapped and pointed beside her. The dog went to her side and sat exactly where she pointed. Give me five. The dog raised one paw and patted it against Ruth’s outstretched palm. Good boy! See? He’s very clever.

Kimberly glanced at Sterling and steered the conversation back on track. At that point you started paying closer attention to odd occurrences?

That’s right, Ruth said. Turns out, we’d all been noticing things moving and disappearing. Like Faith’s Ladies of Fashion.

She turned to face Faith. The girl jumped and her eyes shifted, hands clasped so tightly the knuckles nearly glowed white. Kimberly knew the girl’s pale complexion and sunken eyes could be attributed to her reported lengthy illness. But she thought the girl seemed anxious about all the attention on her as well.

Can you tell us about that, Faith? she asked gently.

Faith stared at her, then shook her head.

Ruth took over again. Faith really hasn’t been feeling well lately, as you know. The Ladies of Fashion were a gift to her from my mom, right before she passed. Mom collected them for years. Little porcelain figures of women in clothing and hairstyles from different periods. Victorian, Renaissance, Gothic. That sort of thing.

Kimberly smiled at Faith. If you’re interested in clothes and hairstyles, I need to introduce you to my personal assistant, Rosie.

Faith looked up long enough to return the smile, but then resumed staring at the table.

She’s so skittish. Something seems off. Maybe she could read the girl’s spectrum and gain some insight that way. Her experience with children of any age amounted to almost nothing, but anyone could see something scared this girl.

The miniatures are stored in a display case, Ruth continued. Two round, wooden levels covered in felt with a glass dome cover. They started moving.

Kimberly’s eyebrows shot up. No one had told her this bit. Moving how?

Faith is a little OCD about the dolls. She adores them, which is why my mom gave them to her. She keeps them arranged in perfect circles on their stands. But they started moving. Shifting. She’d come home from school and find them all clustered to one side or scattered about haphazardly. A few times she found the ladies had swapped positions. They were out of the order she keeps them in. She likes them chronological. Ruth stroked her daughter’s hair. Faith looked like she was about to cry.

Sterling leaned forward on the table. Well that sounds like . . . magic! With a flourish, he reached behind her ear and produced a wrapped square of chocolate.

She suspected he could see the girl’s distress and wanted to cheer her up. But this wasn’t really the time for his tricks. She raised an eyebrow at him and glanced at Michael. He shrugged.

Faith wouldn’t take the chocolate. Daniel and Ruth looked confused.

Sterling cleared his throat and left the chocolate on the table. Tough crowd. In all seriousness, though, I can think of numerous reasons the dolls could be jostled.

Daniel nodded. So did we. And yet we couldn’t replicate the movement.

Sterling tipped his head and frowned. What do you mean?

Faith keeps the case on her dresser. I tried bumping the dresser, shaking it, sliding the display case from one end to the other. We called Snickers into the room and had him raise up on the dresser. Nothing. The dolls didn’t budge.

They sit on felt, Ruth reminded them. "They don’t slide around easily. It looked like someone moved them deliberately. But it always happens when the girls are at school and Dan is at work. I don’t go in the room. I