I kept pondering how to answer Agent Williams' question. No matter how I approached it, he would remain suspicious. This alone made me struggle to find a way to respond without seeming crazy. Telling my family was one thing, but speaking to an FBI agent was entirely different. They have strict rules and protocols, and they're usually skeptical about anything paranormal. To convince someone like him, I would need facts and undeniable evidence, which we didn't have much of.
Uncle Donovan noticed my internal struggle and looked at me, studying my face thoughtfully. I could feel the weight of his stare and looked up towards him. When our eyes met, I sensed the silent question he was asking—whether I wanted or needed him to speak for me. I wanted to let him, because it would have been easier, but that wouldn't be right. I had to do this myself and answer honestly. Whether the agent believed me was his decision. As subtly as possible, I shook my head to signal I wanted to answer on my own. I appreciated my uncle's desire to protect me, but I had to do this myself.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and typed frantically, eager to explain the situation. Finding the right words was challenging; honestly, I still didn't fully understand it myself. The emotions of that dream caused tears to stream down my face as the words flowed through my fingers. Agent Williams watched my every move from his seat on the opposite side of the desk; his steady gaze was almost unsettling, but he remained quiet and patient. Once I finished, I placed the phone on the desk between us and pushed it toward him. Initially, he didn't pick it up but kept looking at me, analyzing. It seemed he was internally debating whether to trust me and my words. Then he slowly grabbed my phone, glancing at me one last time before focusing his attention on the text before him. For some reason, relief washed over me because I felt that if he believed I was deceitful, then he wouldn't have wasted his time with us today.
"As you know, I was assaulted by my neighbor a few days ago, which left me unconscious. During that time, I experienced a very vivid dream or vision—whichever you prefer to call it. I saw Uncle Donovan hurry out the back door of my house with two young children, and I watched their every move, witnessing everything they endured. They were scared, cold, and hungry, not knowing what awaited them. It was hard to watch them run, clutching each other's hands, hoping for someone to save them. The old couple was their saviors; if not for them, Ted would have caught up to the kids. He would have killed them." I observed as Agent Williams read each word, his face expressionless while he processed the information. Did this man ever smile? I wondered what he was like around friends and family. Why these thoughts invaded me was beyond my comprehension. It didn't matter how he was outside of work. All that mattered was that he was helping us, and we could trust him, I hoped. "As soon as I woke up, I wrote down everything I could remember, hoping the details might help find my aunt and uncle. Did I do something wrong?"
"No, not exactly wrong, just it seems far-fetched," Agent Williams said flatly, "Your version and Betty's are very similar, too similar. It's just suspicious because you know vivid details of that night that no one else knows besides the people who were there. Plus, you're recalling these events when you weren't even born yet? You shouldn't know any of it," he stated matter-of-factly.
"I'll admit when she first approached me and explained everything, I thought she was off her rocker, but I was proven wrong. Her dreams and visions have always been accurate. Something in this house wants the perpetrators of that night caught as much as we do," Uncle Donovan said, backing me up. I appreciated him defending me; it made me feel safe.
Grabbing my phone, I typed again, "This house called to me the first time I saw it, and it still has an eerie hold over me. One that I'm afraid I'll never be able to shake off. Look, I know this all sounds crazy. I really do, but it's all true. Since we moved into this house, so many strange and frightening things have happened - like the shoebox the other day, for example. Zeke and I have searched that closet countless times and never found anything. Then out of nowhere, the shoebox shoots out at our feet." I placed the phone back in front of him again.
"I understand, Miss Sleighton. I'm not accusing you of anything," Agent Williams explained, his eyes returning to the paper as he reviewed the details once again. "I'm just trying to figure out the facts and how everyone is involved."
"Ok, we're getting off topic here," Uncle Donovan interjected. "My niece was trying to help us. If the facts line up, doesn't that give us one step in the right direction?" He asked.
"Yes, it helps, but in my reports, I need to explain how she got the information," Williams explained. "Saying she had visions or ghosts would help her get me laughed out of the bureau. If that is your goal, then we are well on our way to it."
"I don't see why it would make you a laughingstock. Agencies use psychics all the time," Donovan explained.
The other man thought about what he had said and nodded, "Yes, they do sometimes, but it's usually a last resort, or there are extenuating circumstances. This case has neither of those."
"Ok, I get what you're saying, but it doesn't mean the supernatural is not real. Let's agree to disagree on this subject," Uncle Donovan offered. "I can tell you are the type of man who will not believe something like this unless he sees it for himself, but I hope you never do. Just please try to take our words seriously."
"I take every lead seriously, but let's get back on topic." For the first time, I could see he was uncomfortable talking about this subject and was ready for a change of direction. "This woman, who thought she might be the sister you were looking for, said her name was Betty Faltman and that she had a brother, too. Their ages match, and they were adopted by an older couple who recently passed away," He explained.
"Faltman, Faltman. Why does that sound so familiar?" I wondered in my head. I grabbed the paper back and read it over again and again until the realization washed over me. The old couple who hit the kids that night said their last name was Faltman. They must have adopted them. Waving my hand at the two men across from me, I grabbed my phone from Agent Williams' hand and began typing. "Faltman was the name of the couple who hit Betty and Samuel that night. This has to be them." Excitement flowed through me. We may be very close to finding them.
"We don't know that for sure; we still need to go through proper channels to confirm or deny this," Agent Williams explained. He had a peculiar look on his face as I studied it. If one didn't know it. They would have thought him and my uncle were related; they had the same nose and chiseled jaw line. Shaking my head, I chuckled silently at my thoughts.
"Okay, how can we confirm whether they are our Betty and Samuel or not? Maybe a DNA test?" my uncle asked, prepared to do whatever was necessary.
"Yes, a DNA test will be conducted after we gather more background information on the siblings. It might take a few days, and then we will arrange a lab appointment for the test," Agent Williams explained. "Miss Faltman mentioned she didn't want to meet anyone until it's confirmed that you all are biologically related." It was understandable that they were being cautious. We still didn't know who the killer was or who ordered him to attack our family. The only person we knew who was involved was Ted, and we still needed more evidence to arrest him. He clearly had high-level connections. He got away with just a slap on the wrist for almost killing me.
"Ok, so how long will this process take? Also, are there any more leads on my parents death or who buried them in the woods?" Uncle Donovan was throwing the questions one after the other.
Williams looked ready to respond to my uncle, but suddenly, heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs, interrupting the conversation. Each step was who forcefully stomped, echoing loudly in the tense silence. The room's atmosphere grew heavy with anticipation; as everyone held their breath, uncertain of what was coming next. When the footsteps finally halted at the bottom and went still, the tension heightened.
"I thought we were the only ones here?" Williams asked, confusion spreading across his features.
"We are!" Donovan whispered, yelled. Shushing him, I placed my finger over my mouth. And slowly stood and started walking softly towards the hallway, not wanting to disturb anyone or anything that might be lurking at the bottom of the stairs. Uncle Donovan reached for my hand to stop me, but I slipped free of him and continued onward. I felt a presence walking closely behind me; it was Agent Williams. He was obviously curious to see what was happening. As we stepped into the open hallway, no one was at the bottom of the stairs.
"Where did they go?" Williams asked, puzzled that we hadn't found anyone. "They didn't pass us to the front door; we would have noticed. They must still be here somewhere," he muttered quietly to himself.
"Welcome to our world," Donovan chimed in unexpectedly. His sudden appearance startled us, and my hand flew to my heart, thinking it might leap out of my chest onto the floor. We had assumed he was still sitting on the chair and hadn't noticed him sneak up behind us. Agent Williams looked as rattled as I felt in that moment.
"Could you give us a little warning next time, please?" Agent Williams huffed. This was the most emotion we have seen him express since we met him.
"Sorry, I thought you knew I was behind you guys," Donvan said, offering a sheepish smile. As soon as the words left his mouth, the quiet aftermath shattered – the home office door swung open and then slammed shut with a force behind us that made the entire frame rattle. Before any of us could react, the bathroom door across the hall did the same, and then, as if following some invisible command, all the doors began opening and closing in unnerving perfect sync. Our heads pivoted towards each sound so fast that I was afraid we would all end up with whiplash. The tension and fear permeated the air, making it almost suffocating. Agent Williams, reacting swiftly, drew his gun and motioned for me to step behind him for safety. I shook my head in refusal, knowing his gesture was futile. He was up against a supernatural entity.
Without hesitation, I typed a message out to him on my phone, "The gun will do no good, this is a paranormal threat, not a normal one," holding it out for him to see. I hoped he understood what I was saying.
"How are you so sure?" Skepticism laced his voice.
"Because this is a regular occurrence here," Donovan explained. "I've never actually experienced anything till today, but I've heard about it from them." Moments after he spoke, the loud banging of the doors stopped, and an eerie silence overtook the house. But a sense of unease grew stronger, signaling something else was about to happen. We barely had time to catch our breath and brace ourselves before a new round of chaos erupted in the house. It came from the home office again, but it wasn't the door; it was coming from within. Violent crashes and loud banging noises echoed from within the room, prompting us to rush in. We arrived just in time to see things flying off the bookshelves – vases, books, and pictures were hurling past our heads, smashing onto the floor with alarming force. One object was hurled dangerously close to my head. Uncle Donovan and Agent Williams each grabbed an arm and managed to pull me out of harm's way just in time.
Agent Williams stared in shock at the scene, his face showing clear disbelief. "How is this possible?" he asked, struggling to understand the chaos before him. He had never seen anything like this, and the sight of objects flying through the air visibly unsettled him. The chaos abruptly stopped as everything fell to the floor with a thud. The room looked like it had been ransacked. Which, technically, had just not been done by human hands. The paperwork, the thought echoed in my head. It was on the desk when we came out to inspect the footsteps. I quickly whirled around, grabbing Uncle Donovan's arm and startling him.
"What's wrong, Roxanne? Are you ok?" He asked worried