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volunteer to set up one of the video cameras in Timmy’s room when<br />
<strong>no</strong> one else suggested it.<br />
As soon as everyone was satisfied with the placement of the<br />
machinery, Ethan asked if he and Adrian could take the upstairs first.<br />
“Something’s definitely pulling me into that master bedroom,” he<br />
remarked with a glance down the hall.<br />
“That’s fine with me,” Tucker consented. When he looked<br />
to me, I just <strong>no</strong>dded. Timmy’s bedroom room hadn’t seemed any<br />
scarier this time than it had last time, even when I was down there<br />
by myself. <strong>The</strong>n again, the lights were still on.<br />
“If everyone is ready, let’s go lights out,” Richard directed.<br />
“Mr. Johansson, if you would, please come with me.” He led him to<br />
the couch in the living room beside the kitchen/dining area so he<br />
could explain what he needed him to do.<br />
Tucker and I traipsed over to the stairs once again. With each<br />
step down, the equipment in my pockets jostled against my legs. His<br />
hand hit the wall switch on the landing, sending the light on the<br />
staircase shooting away from us.<br />
“Do you want to go to the den or Timmy’s room first?” he<br />
asked as we came to the downstairs hallway.<br />
“You tell me,” I advised. “You’re the unbiased one,<br />
remember?”<br />
He laughed. “Oh, right. Okay, let’s go to the den since you<br />
already set up a camera in the bedroom.” This time he had to reach<br />
up to pull the chord on the hall light, and once it clicked, darkness<br />
rushed up to greet us once again.<br />
I clicked on my flashlight and the red glow bathed the wall<br />
opposite us as I led the way into the den. <strong>The</strong> beam picked up the<br />
old brown leather couch facing the big-screen plasma TV on the wall<br />
first, so I plopped myself down on it. <strong>The</strong>n I pulled out my digital<br />
recorder and pressed the “record” button.<br />
“This is Tucker and Chelsea. First sweep, in the den.” I let<br />
my flashlight rove around, observing the photos hanging on the wall.<br />
<strong>The</strong>re was Timmy with a little white dog. Mr. Johansson holding a<br />
massive fish up on the line with which he’d caught it. <strong>The</strong>y were all<br />
smiles. Nothing like they had seemed during the preliminary visit.<br />
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