Coalescence (Camden Investigations Book 1) (4 page)

“Yeah, that next investigation that will probably lead us
to inconclusive evidence.”

“You’re so right. But what if it’s different this time?
What if that object really is from some unknown place and is part of some
unknown agenda?”

“Hey, now you’re talking.” Mitchell squinted. “But in all
seriousness, we need some point of reference to begin an analysis. I just
wish . . .” He paused to listen to the engine of an airplane
overhead.

“What do you wish?”

“Apparently, a sign from above. That airplane reminds me
of a report a week back about a crashed satellite. Debris was reported from
surrounding towns. It’s conceivable the dial could originate from that. It
means we do have an unidentified flying object, by loose definition. That
means, Iris, that even if the dial is manmade, I won’t classify it as such
until I can place it from the satellite crash.”

Mitchell scanned his cell for the photos of the crash.
“You know, it’s conceivable the Morse boy might have been in the vicinity of
the wreckage.”

“Can you be certain of that?”

“To be honest, I can’t answer that right now. I will have
to do some research. Find out just what kind of gismos might belong in a
satellite. Find out where the boy ventured to.”

“And in the meantime . . .?”

“In the meantime, we keep this dial under lock and key in
storage. I think I can squeeze it in with the other items I’ve failed to unpack
from my move. By the way, I like to refer to it as an artifact, at least until
we can find what its purpose is.”

“You look like you want to say more.” Iris feared that
Mitchell would tell her others were chasing after it. If this were the case,
Iris felt like she was back at square one, depending on a conspiracy nut to
give her rational answers about a thing that seemed to change temperatures and
time.

Mitchell answered after a moment’s pause. “I do. We could
really use your sister’s help. If this presence can enlighten us about your
dial in any fashion, it would go a long way in our investigation.” Mitchell
paused and flashed his phone toward Iris. “Ah, there it is, well, a piece of it
anyway.” Iris observed the photo. It was inconclusive at best. Possibly it was
just a picture of roadside junk, but Iris empathized with Mitchell’s need for a
definitive answer.

Iris nodded. “I agree. But that’s going to be difficult.
She’s having some . . . issues. We can always consider a
consultant.”

“I wouldn’t recommend that. If this object is some kind
classified technology, there could be people looking for it right now. It would
be best to keep this in the family. We should limit any conversation about our
investigation when on the phone—both land line and cell.”

Fear removed her
from Starbuck’s and placed her back at the Morses’ home. Mitchell’s sudden bout
of paranoia warded her back to the foyer, the place where she’d cowered from
the unexplained just one day earlier. It was sobering and disturbing to think
what the dial might be capable of. And maybe if it could change time, it would
reason there might be others interested in chasing it. She realized at this
moment, it wasn’t her distaste of conspiracy theories that made her feel
discomfort, but it was the notion that this event was forcing her to consider
what type of secretive work her father really did.

I
RIS REPLAYED
the video. It was a remnant of
the recording Kassidy salvaged from the camcorder. She had lost count just how
many times she viewed it. Over her shoulder, Kassidy raved repeatedly how the
video was not of the Morses’ home, but from someplace she had never recorded.
More succinctly, a place she and the team had never visited. But Iris wondered
if she had, somehow.

For all intents, the date stamp on the video was a lie.
The date was two days ago. Kassidy claimed she was sure they never visited the
spacious room shown recorded whether it was taped two days or two years ago.
So, did the video generate from mechanical equipment failure or from paranormal
intervention? Or quite possibly, another option she had yet to consider? She
decided not to tell.

Seated at the kitchen table, Iris battled the nagging
pinpricks of déjà vu. The room in the video induced a feeling of vague
familiarity, even though Iris knew she’d never been there. Kassidy continued
pacing back and forth behind her. In minutes, Iris’s ghost hunters would meet
with Mitchell’s UFO investigators. How could she seriously represent the
findings of the team and provide helpful analysis? Bewildered by her latest
revelation, that the unidentified structure on video bore some connection to a
past experience, she feared what she might sound like if she divulged that
fact. And just a little while ago, she was ready to scream quackery at Mitchell
for believing others were chasing the dial.

She might appear to be a scatter-brained novice, just
like she feared yesterday when she met Mitchell. She’d spoken of time loss,
unexplained temperature changes, shampoo bottles floating through walls, and
the hovering object. Yet she’d had no hard evidence to confirm any of it.
Mitchell appeared to have digested her report with professional courtesy. Was
that all it was? Did he run back to his investigators and equate her confusion
with inexperience? A paranormal investigator who couldn’t discern a haunting
from an alien anomaly?

Iris’s initial intention was to rule out alien
involvement. She didn’t believe in gray or green people. Now, she imagined the
sky watchers might dominate the investigation. Her only tangible evidence of
the investigation was the dial, some unidentified, plastic and metallic like
device, round with the hands of a clock, but one that was never designed to
measure time as she had come to know it. It screamed “out of this world” a lot
louder than “some ghost’s toy.” There was still a possibility it was a control
mechanism from the downed satellite. If so, no matter how odd it appeared, it
could be terrestrial. But that didn’t come close to explaining its involvement
with the spirit she was certain existed. Her psychic senses had never failed
her. Unfortunately, she couldn’t justify that belief with hard evidence either.

A whiff of Kassidy’s breath broke her train of thought. She
morphed out of her daze to cold lucidity. “I thought we agreed after the other
night: no drinking during
any
phase of investigating.”

“Okay, but it was only one, Iris. I’m functional, not
buzzed. In defense, it was this recording that has me over the edge. As if it
wasn’t bad enough that every yardstick we ever used to judge a spiritual
presence might need reevaluation—scratch that—
will
need
revaluation. And where does that leave us? We’re going to look like rank
amateurs.”

The feeling hit home with Iris; she rose from her chair
and draped an arm over Kassidy’s shoulder. “We’re going to figure this one out.
We’ll just be needing
assistance
.” Iris waited a long minute for Kassidy
to smile.

“Are you guys ready?” It was Rachel’s voice from the
adjacent living room. She had been busy preparing refreshments for the arriving
guests. At least Iris hoped she was. If she had been eavesdropping, it might be
the straw to break the camel’s back. Rachel had threatened to quit the team
when DJ left. It seemed to Iris that DJ represented a sister of sorts for
Rachel, who was a lone child. DJ never scolded Rachel for her rookie mistakes
whereas Kassidy was certain to. Rachel didn’t need to hear any more discord.
Displays of confusion, frustration, and anger from the lead investigator would
not aid in solidarity. Iris was thankful this notion popped into her head. She
must appear relaxed and confident, not only for the guest investigators, but
for her team.

Iris heard the front door close. She bounded into the
living room with Kassidy in tow to find DJ had returned from work. It was about
the only thing DJ left the house for these days. Iris realized her sister still
struggled with dreams, even fearing if she was sane or not. DJ seemed to have
come to terms with the ordeal in the last month by channeling her trauma into
one simple emotion: anger. If anger allowed her sister to function, Iris
conceded she would deal with it. The young medium was still unbuttoning her
coat when Iris grabbed a glass of iced tea from the coffee table as a peace
offering and mostly because she didn’t want her sister blowing a gasket in
front of the team. “Here, Sis, I made your favorite drink.” DJ waved a hand.
Iris wondered how her half sister behaved around the general population. Was
she continually behaving in a despondent manner? If so, Iris feared she would
lose her job and fall further back into dysfunction.

“You didn’t have to, Iris. I said I’d appear to be a
member of the team for tonight’s meeting and I meant it.” She hung her
knee-length coat on the coat tree. “I don’t need bribes. And for god’s sakes,
I’m okay.” Iris’s intervention had kept DJ’s infamous temper in check, but
Kassidy circled a finger around her temple in jest. “And we agreed not to
pressure you in anyway shape or form to rejoin the team or request your
services. Didn’t we, team?”

Everyone nodded. DJ peered into their eyes, armed with a
doubtful glance. It broke Kassidy, who giggled. “Okay,” DJ asked, “are we
absolutely freaking sure Kassidy hasn’t spiked the tea?”

“No, we aren’t” Rachel responded with a mischievous grin.
“But I’m absolutely freaking sure we have Absolut.”

“Yuck,” Kassidy scowled. “I like the vodka advertised by
that pretty android girl.”

“I think Kassidy just likes pretty
girls
,” Rachel
teased.

“Come on, our guests should be here any minute,” Iris
reprimanded. “We want to project seriousness and confidence.”

“I’m seriously confident we don’t know what the hell we
just investigated,” Kassidy concluded.

DJ crept up behind Rachel and Kassidy, draping an arm
over each friend’s shoulder. “I am
always
glad to be with my buds.
Leaving was never personal.”

Iris smiled and lowered her eyes to the floor. She
pretended not to watch her younger sister hugging her friends. But Iris didn’t
have to see anything. She felt their bond, psychically. It gave her all the
confidence she would need for tonight.

“Wow,” an auburn-haired man exclaimed with a gasp upon
entering. “Nice digs. Guys, check out the space in this room. It would make for
a great headquarters.”

“Whoa—down puppy,” Mitchell responded. “Gavin,
introduce yourself properly and gentlemanly to our gracious hosts.”

A younger man, possibly early twenties, with raven-black
hair following from behind Gavin, wasted no time to quip. “Yeah, then make all
the bad observations you want, we’re used to them.”

Iris eased up, observing how the UFO hunters alleviated
stress. They weren’t too different from them. She cracked her neck, a
relaxation technique, and stuck out a hand to greet outspoken Gavin.

“I wish I could accept your compliments on the living
room, Gavin, but I’m afraid Mom’s life insurance policy gets the props.”

Everyone observed Gavin shrink from regret. He folded his
arms in front of him, crisscrossed. “My sincere apologies. I’m sorry for
offending you.”

Iris chuckled. “That’s just my dark humor taking over.
Really, the room is this spacious because it’s supposed to be a combination
living/dining room. Since DJ and I never
dine
here, we removed the
table. If you think we need the table, we can always reassemble it.”

Gavin nodded while the dark-haired man patted his
shoulder. “Nice first impression, Gavin. By the way, I’m Darian. Spelled with
two As.”

More handshaking ensued until each woman was given the
chance to introduce herself to each of the guests. Iris’s eyes were glued on
DJ. Her sister’s complexion was nearly rose colored. It was the first time DJ
had looked like herself since the accident, and Iris sensed a connection
between DJ and Darian, especially as her sister’s eyes seemed to grow wider by
the moment. DJ threw a reproachful glance her way as if to say:
I’m on to
you
.

Kassidy plugged a wire from her laptop into the
wall-mounted, flat-screen TV.

Gavin seated himself on a sofa, folded hands resting on
his knees. Darian dared to take a seat on an opposite sofa, next to DJ. Iris
noticed Mitchell observing his young investigator. She pushed Rachel into the
last open space next to DJ.

Mitchell and Iris stood together, two leaders from
different worlds looking over the proceedings. Once the video began to play on
the forty-six inch screen, things really began to resemble the bridge of the
Starship
Enterprise.

“You say this is a phantom-recording. No chance of the
memory card being used by anyone else?” Gavin asked.

Kassidy cocked her head and folded her arms across and
chest. “Not unless the store clerk had some fun with it. I unsealed it from its
package moments before our investigation. It was a virgin. I’m sure of it.”

Gavin broke from Kassidy’s icy glare after a long moment.
“Could this anomaly have anything to do with the artifact?”

Mitchell responded. “That seems to be the $64,000
question. Doesn’t it?”

“What if the artifact—or the dial—was some
kind of recorder in itself and maybe it transferred the images onto your
camera?” Darian asked.

“That’s a very good question,” Mitchell said. “Now, how
would we go about proving it?”

“We would need to take the artifact apart. Reverse
engineer it, just like those shy folks who hide out in underground bases at
Area 51.”

Everyone laughed. “I trust you are good with your hands,
Darian,” Mitchell said. “But it’s too dangerous. We still don’t know what it is
or where it came from. And it’s radioactive to a degree. I wouldn’t risk
opening it to expose any one of us further.”

“Yeah,” Gavin added, “I conducted a lot of searches online.
It’s definitely not part of some video game, although one might mistake its
protrusions for some kind of rad tech joystick. I also checked anything
relating to satellites, specifically the hardware used. It was just as
fruitless. I’m about 95 percent sure it’s not used in any satellites we know
of. But . . . that begs the question, what about satellites we
don’t know about. Ones possibly built with covert capabilities, namely, spy
capability. Maybe some device that can record, unlike any video device we have
ever heard of. Or . . . there is the possibility of aliens.
Unfortunately, I can’t confirm that on Google.”

“Okay,” Mitchell said, “so that leaves us with a gaping
hole. There are way too many possibilities concerning this dial. Is it
terrestrial, extraterrestrial? Maybe both if it was indeed reverse engineered.
I do believe Iris has a strong feeling that a spirit is involved. Can we go in
the house, attempt another EVP recording? Maybe this time, the electronics will
produce a more real-time picture. And whatever the outcome, we must also
consider other natural and unnatural explanations.”

“Natural explanations, being . . .?”
Rachel asked.

“Earth-based explanations, like fault lines. In
combination with our object, the normal laws of physics might be altered.”

Iris felt her face lose color. She maintained science
couldn’t be altered. If it could, what explanation might the video contain? She
felt a need to go back to the home as Mitchell suggested. The Morses’ couldn’t
remain in hotels forever. “I think we should investigate the house again. There
is an answer out there, somewhere.”

The video repeated. “So, we don’t seem to glean much from
the video. Other than it has recorded a different residence with very large
rooms,” Mitchell added. “Iris, we still must consider abduction as a
possibility. You did say time seemed to move slower at some point. I would
think that had to be the period you lost time.”

“Yes, while we were waiting for Rachel. Time appeared to
move slower, but that seems somewhat normal. They say a watched pot never
boils.” Iris rested her chin on her hand.

“This video makes me wonder if Iris and Kassidy were
somehow transported to this place during the time loss. I realize this is a
disturbing possibility.” Mitchell kept watching the screen. Iris assumed he was
fearful of her team’s response.

“But if this is
indeed
an alien intervention, why
would they take us to some place so banal?” Kassidy questioned.

“I don’t understand either,” Mitchell responded. “Gavin,
maybe you can try to match this footage with any other pictures or film ever
uploaded.”