The Double Wide on the Lake

True story!

I was called by the City's Paranormal Society to consult on a case they were asked to work on. Cindy told me a lady who lived on the lake had been having many disturbances in her double wide trailer home. 

Mrs. Cooper was not even able to sleep at night from the noise in the master bedroom. Her back door would slam and lock itself as well. Her favorite clear tumbler would be placed in the hallway at night. 

I am considered psychic in my community, as I'm known as "the palm reader" in this small Texas city. (Many conceal their activity with me because this town is as crooked as any but it is a notch in the Bible belt). After aiding with a secret ghost hunt in an old home for a doctor in town, the Paranormal Society asked for help again. I was glad to oblige them.

"Is two o'clock good?"

"Yes, Cindy, you know where I live, come pick me up?"

"OK, Bye."

To make things move along quicker, I began my calm sitting. My eyes were closed. I reached out and there she was. The pretty little girl Hanna sat enjoying her tree swing. Mrs. Cooper is her grandmother.

I stood looking out the apartment window watching Cindy's truck make its way over the slow bumps.

"Hey girl. Good to see you again!"

"Hey." Cindy didn't bring her recording devices or energy detectors. We didn't need them this time. 

Cindy didn't mind me drinking a beer riding shotgun either.

"I saw Hanna. She was on a tree swing."

The truck swerved. "That is Mrs. Cooper's granddaughter! Hanna!"

I said, "There is fear. Rage. It's not clear yet but I'm on this." 

It didn't take long to ride the small black top roads surrounded by overhanging trees to the double wide home set back off the road. In the front yard a large oak tree bellowed in the wind. Mrs. Cooper met us in the yard. I smoked a cigarette feeling for the spirits. What did they want me to see? I'd go where they wanted me to go. Marcos would lead me to the site of a murder. I tuned in on Cindy's open mind, I'm sure she was doing the same.

Mrs. Cooper nervously opened her front door atop the few steps. "Come in." She was sixty-ish and stocky with short salty blonde hair. Dressed in leggings and a flowery shirt, she motioned towards the couch. Her blue eyes and aged face seemed to say, "don't look at me, just listen."

Mrs. Cooper opened her laptop. She said, "I recorded all night to see what was making noise. Look! Did you see that?!" On her screen a shadow bounced around the room walls of the master bedroom. The room was dimly lit with only a small table lamp on a night stand. The bed filled the room.

"Do you mind if we walk around?" I said. "Is this the room?" I knew where it was. 

Mrs. Cooper had the look of shock as I told her of Hanna. The swing being old and unsafe had been removed.

Cindy and I entered the master bedroom. I was drawn to the windows. They were new looking as compared to the age of the home. Bright calking around the seams had been slightly misplaced over fresh paint.

"This is where the fight started." Marcos said. "We tore this room up. I ran outside. Denny followed me."

I walked outside to those windows. The farthest to the end of the mobile home was murky water. I saw depressed grass springing back as though time was removing tire tracks of a truck. 

Again Marcos spoke, "He beat me. He ran over me. I'm in the back yard now."

I told Cindy about Marcos. She was silent. I wasn't sure why but her face was in agreement. We walked to the back yard. Just at the water's edge a fire pit made of stone was raised above the ground a foot or so. It was full of black scorched tree limbs and unrecognizable debris. 

Mrs. Cooper followed us to the side of the home but she would not go in to the back yard. She said nothing. She looked with anticipation and strained to hear our words. She cupped her face and crossed her arms. She rubbed her arms. 

Cindy lowered her voice, turned away and said, "Her son is Denny. His wife claimed he was abusive and she left him. Hanna's mother allowed visits here at grandma's."

I continued, "Marcos was her new lover. An illegal Mexican man." 

"I was good to them!" Marcos interjected. "Denny was drunk. I came to pick up my stepdaughter, Hanna. He was crazy. Son of bitch he kill me."

Marcos continued, "I am here! He put me under fire pit! She will no say!"

We walked back to the home. Mrs. Cooper had gone inside. She prayed her murderous son would not be revealed. Secretly she thought if the psychics can't figure it out, my boy is safe.

"What do you think?" Mrs. Cooper said mentioning the slamming back door and her tumbler in the hall.

"Well," Cindy said, "We're really not sure."

Mrs. Cooper said, "It really was my son's idea, we heard about you guys. Thanks for coming."

Riding home in Cindy's truck felt strange. I said, "He was an illegal. No detective here's gonna touch that."

"You're right. I heard Hanna's mother took the child away and Denny has not been back as of yet."

"Did you see her face? She's so protecting Denny. She knows what he did. But she doesn't know we know." 

Cindy and I decided to keep it at that. What else could we do? We didn't want Denny to come looking for us.