The Haunted_Edit Copy 4-7-17

to him with Trouble earlier, we could discuss it later. It was placed
aside while we did business.
“You want to go to the kitchen first?” he asked as he stuffed
his EMF detector in the pocket of his cargo pants.
“Sure.” I clicked my thermometer’s battery cover into place.
Daisy took care of the lights as soon as we settled down in
position. Tucker sat at the kitchen table and I leaned against the
counter, flicking on the red flashlight to combat the darkness.
His voice recorder was set up on the table in front of him, so
immediately he launched into an EVP session. “Hi, I’m Tucker. This
is Chelsea. We’re just here to talk with you; we don’t mean you any
harm. Can you tell us your name?” After a few moments of silence,
he asked, “Can you say our names?”
Then, for the first time since we’d entered the house, I started
to feel uncomfortable. Not in the same way as I had at the
Johanssons, but I was getting the idea that we weren’t as welcome
there as we’d first thought.
“Do you mind having us here?” I asked.
Tucker’s eyebrow lifted, silently asking me what I was
picking up on. I ignored him.
“Do you not like us?” I continued.
Suddenly, Tucker’s EVP recorder skidded across the table.
It dropped straight off the edge and hit the ground in a clatter of
batteries exploding out of it. I jumped so high I almost caught the
ceiling fan to cling to.
“Jesus,” I breathed, aiming my flashlight at Tucker as he
bent over to grab the pieces of his recorder. In the dim red light, I
caught a glimpse of a cut of some sort on his side when his shirt
lifted up. But then he was sitting again and the spot of his skin was
covered by fabric again, so I stuck up a mental Post-it to look at
whatever it was later.
“You okay?” I asked him.
He nodded. “I’m good. What made you ask those
questions?”
“Just a feeling.”
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