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the screaming — slammed in my face. Ben kept screaming and all hell had broken out behind the door.”
    Porcelain plates and figurines begin to fall from the display case in the hallway, more doors are opening on their own and slamming shut with a crash. Flies begin to pour in from the second floor, swarming down the stairs toward them.
    “Johanna, come on!” Henning throws open the front door, and Mrs. Falkner continues speaking as if in a trance.
    “Then I was able to open the door, Ms. Ebeling. I saw Lukas asleep on his bed, blood running out of his mouth and nose.”
    The house is breathing , Johanna thinks. Cold surrounds her. The kind of cold one feels in a freezer, that chills to the bone in a split second.
    “What happened with Ben?” she asks, Henning drags her outside and Mrs. Falkner follows with the Mary statue pressed against her chest.
    “He killed Ben! His little neck was broken.” Mrs. Falkner bursts into tears; the kitchen window splits with a loud crack.
    “Go now! Quickly!”
    Johanna and Henning run across the farm.
    “Where is your husband? Where is Lukas?” Johanna cries back towards the woman who continues to clutch the statue.
    “Robert left us,” she calls back, as Johanna and Henning race to the car. “It’s better that way. Lukas … .” She pauses, stepping back inside just as the house door slams with deadly force.
    Something about the Children’s Psychiatric Institute in Lubeck, Johanna hears before they reach the car.
*
    “We have to call the police!” Henning taps off his cigarette ash through the narrow opening in the window, where the rain is pouring in. Just outside of Hamburg, they run into a thunderstorm, the trees on either side of the highway swaying back and forth in the wind, the taillights of vehicles giving off a surreal glow.
    “And what do you think they’re going to do?” Henning goes silent. The windshield wipers squeak; far ahead, a blue light flashes on the street.
    “Mrs. Falkner is in danger, Jo! Come on, you saw it yourself.”
    “She was already in danger before. The police won’t be able to help her. They must have already taken on the case with her son Ben and couldn’t do anything anyway.”
    Henning looks over at her angrily, cranks up the window. “And what do you think, what should we do?”
    Johanna looks at the rain running down the windshield. “We listen to the recording. We visit her again. We question all of the residents in that backwoods town behind the Kreuziger Farm. We inquire about her son. Question doctors. Analyze your photos and the new interview. Henning, this haunting has to be explained somehow. Not a hundred percent scientific, not that, but we can get closer to the phenomenon.” She is determined to keep going.
    Henning shakes his head and sighs. “Falling glasses, slamming doors. Have you even thought about how we’re also in danger?”
    “I have, yes. According to Krüger and Grobel, such phenomena are bound to locations and/or people. This phenomenon seems to be both, Henning. We witnessed it when Mrs. Falkner came to see us. And we were even able to measure it when it was more clearly present at the Kreuziger farm. So it can’t just jump onto us, Henning. It’s not possible.”
    “Exactly,” Henning hisses. “In our academic ivory tower, it’s not possible. According to Krüger and Grobel, it’s not possible. But do you think that Krüger and Grobel had half a house flying around them? Do you think that anyone cited ancient Hebrew Bible verses that no one heard during their interviews?”
    “Krüger and Grobel, as well as Singer, have observed over two hundred cases in the southeast African … .”
    “I know all that, Johanna!” He hits the steering wheel, feels misunderstood, and is embarrassed because he’s lost his cool.
    “It’s okay, Henning. You can also get out of the project if you want.” She puts a hand on his forearm. “Stairway to Heaven” is playing on the radio.
    “Okay, I’ll do