Ike Hamill - The Hunting Tree Trilogy

“Do you recognize the clothes she’s wearing?” Mike asked Bruce, as the editor ran his finger over a monitor.

“Not really,” said Bruce, “but she looks younger than I remember.”

In the early part of the video, when the ghost maneuvered past the door, she was most solid. She wore a floor-length dress, mostly white, with a bib and shoulder straps that covered a light-blue blouse.

“How old was she when she moved here?” Mike asked, interrupting Bruce’s concentration again.

“Uh, fifty-five, maybe sixty,” he said.

Katie approached Mike from behind and whispered in his ear—“Leave him alone if he wants to think that’s his grandmother,” she said. “How can you be so sure it’s not?”

Mike backed away and stepped out onto the lawn with Katie.

“That residual is at least a hundred years old,” said Mike. “Look at how she’s dressed. Besides, she’s headed from a door that’s not there anymore. He told us his grandparents remodeled the place before they moved in, and not since. That spirit remembers a floor plan that predates them moving in.”

“I thought you were doing this for press and for credibility?” she asked.

“I am, I guess,” said Mike. “But I’m also doing it for truth.”

“The truth is that you’re collecting proof of paranormal activity. Nobody has ever done that convincingly. Nobody. Who cares if one reporter erroneously thinks he saw the ghost of his grandmother?”

“It doesn’t seem right,” said Mike.

Bruce stepped carefully out of the van. “That is really something. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I never told you guys where we were going, so you couldn’t have planned this ahead. You’ve got every camera angle, and I saw it. I can’t see how anyone would dispute this evidence.”

“That’s great,” said Mike. “We’ve certainly had our share of disbelievers.”

“I’m a straight shooter,” said Bruce, “and people know it. They’ll believe this when I tell them about it. I just hope you’re ready for what that means.”

“How do you mean?” asked Mike.

“Shit,” said Bruce, waving his hand, “if I print a story about a stray dog we have fifty people ready to give it a home before lunch. You better know that they’re going to latch onto this story and come looking for you. People will be all over you to talk to their dead relatives, contact Jesus, find Elvis, you name it.

AFTER DROPPING KATIE BACK at her car, Gary and Mike went for coffee.

“So why is it so important you get people to believe in what we’re doing?” asked Gary.

“What, the press?”

“Yeah, and that guy Bob,” said Gary. “You were really pissed.”

“I need credibility,” said Mike. “I’ve got my whole life wrapped up in this stuff. I used all my savings putting together that van and all the equipment.”

“Really?” asked Gary. “What about your day job? I thought you were a doctor.”

“I’ve got a Ph.D. but I’m basically just a lab guy,” said Mike, taking another sip from his paper cup. “Glorified technician. I’d be doing this full time if I could land some funding. I can’t get anyone to really believe in what I want to do. I’m just lucky that you and Katie are volunteering your time. I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”

“It’s the most interesting shit I’ve ever seen,” said Gary. “I love doing this stuff.”

They sat in silence for a while and regarded the customers coming and going from the counter.

“So have you thought of any ways to make money doing this?” asked Gary.

“Well, I don’t have a formal plan or anything,” said Mike. “I guess I always figured I would put together some solid evidence and publish my research. Once I got over the credibility hurdle, I’d probably be able to make some good money with a lecture tour or maybe even book.”

“Huh,” said Gary. “What about like selling the footage to a TV show or something? We could all be famous—maybe get endorsements or whatever.”

“No, I wouldn’t want to commercialize the science,” said Mike. Gary looked down at his coffee and frowned. Mike continued—“I’m just going to keep everything modest. I don’t need much. Just some money and maybe a little fame.”

“Ready to go?” Gary asked, clipping the end of Mike’s sentence.

“Oh, sure,” said Mike. “I thought you wanted to finish your doughnut, but yeah, that’s fine.”

“SO WHAT DID YOU THINK? Was it accurate?” Bruce asked over the phone.

“You did a great job, Bruce,” answered Mike. “You got all the terminology correct; the sequence of events was perfect. Really great job.”

“Excellent,” said Bruce. “That’s what I do.”

“Your prediction didn’t come true though,” said Mike.

“Which one?”

“You seemed to think we’d be inundated with work,” said Mike. “It’s been two weeks, and I’ve only gotten a couple of phone calls.”

“Anything good? Should I come along?” asked Bruce.

“No, nothing even remotely good,” said Mike. “We got one email from a woman who said that her dead dog kept scratching at the door to come in a night. We went over there and figured out that she had mice.”

Bruce laughed. “Haunted mice?”

“Yeah, probably,” said Mike. “We had another guy who claims he’s getting abducted by aliens. Strangely enough, he only gets abducted after he’s been out all night drinking, and then he wakes up safe and sound back at home but his car is still at the bar.”

“Those sound like helpful aliens,” said Bruce.

“Yeah, turns out the bartender takes him home,” said Mike. “The guy won’t believe him though.”

“You know, I could call in Leslie Buckmann,” offered Bruce.

“Who’s that?”

“Channel Nine’s Leslie Buckmann? Watch TV much?”

“Not really,” Mike admitted.

“She’s the weekend news anchor over there. On Thursdays he does a piece for the six o’clock. You’d have to film it the night before, but she might go for that,” explained Bruce. “Why don’t I give her a call. I think people might be even more engaged if they saw some ordinary person with a ghost in their house.”

“That means I have to get a lead on a real person,” said Mike.

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to my subscriber services. They’ve probably gotten at least one misplaced phone call I can send your way.”

“That’s great, Bruce. Thank you,” said Mike.

“No problem,” said Bruce. “You guys satisfied one of my deepest curiosities, and I got to see my Grandma again. I owe you one. Plus, I’ve got my reputation to think of. The day one of my articles doesn’t generate unwanted attention is the day I need to start thinking about hanging up my keyboard. We’ll get you overrun with haunted mice before you know it.”

“Thanks again,” said Mike.

“I’ll be in touch,” said Bruce.

Mike heard the phone click as Bruce hung up.

BRUCE’S PREDICTION FINALLY CAME TRUE. Mike and his team received a list of phone numbers of readers who had hastily dialed the first number they had seen in the paper: subscriber services. Mike, Gary, and Katie divided the list and interviewed the potential witnesses over the phone. When they met again, they had culled the list to the top ten.

“I still put the Butler case in front of Meyers,” said Mike.

“That’s only because you didn’t talk to Meyers,” Katie defended. “He’s got a really compelling tone. He sounded much more credible than anyone else I talked to.”

“Yeah, but it’s a baby,” said Gary taking Mike’s side. “I think the next logical step we need to take is to make contact. How are we supposed to make contact with a baby? I’d rather do an adult apparition. There’s at least some chance of successful contact that way.”