“So when did all this start?” the officer asked. He was tall and round. His gold shield caught the light in way that made it glisten like it had been recently been shined. He stood in front of us with a small black pad, taking notes on what we said.
“I don’t know, I guess about three weeks,” I started to explain, but before I could finish, Meredith cut me off.
“The first time I saw him was five weeks and four days ago,” she said with her usual authority. Meredith was the secretary for the church’s preschool. She was a Boy Scout leader, had a strange obsession with Tab soda, and, because she liked to walk laps in the gym before work, was often the first person in the building each morning.
“I kept telling Jeff I knew something was wrong, but he just made fun of me,” she said.
“The first time I heard him was on a Tuesday morning,” Meredith said. “As I came into the gym, the door on the opposite side of the room closed, which I thought was weird. So I ran over to it, and when I opened it, I heard the door at the bottom of the stairs close. So I ran down the stairs, but when I got the hallway under the gym, I could see the door down the hall closing. So I ran down the hall, and then up the stairs. But when I got back into the gym, the door on the other side was closing again.” As Meredith explained this game of chase, she grew agitated.
“How many laps did you end up doing?” I asked, taking joy in her frustration. It wasn’t that I disliked Meredith. I liked her enough, but she could be a harsh know-it-all. As a pastor, I was supposed to be nice, so my only avenue for revenge was to poke at her when I got the chance.
“But you never actually caught him,” I said.
“Was this the only time you encountered him?” the officer said, not amused by my games.
“But you never saw him?” the officer said.
That Meredith never caught the ghost was understandable. The church building was a maze of interconnected classrooms, parallel stairways, and circular hallways. It was perfect for an unending game of hide-and-go-seek. For most of the week, the big building was empty. When I was there by myself at night, it wasn’t unusual to feel like someone was watching me. I had no idea someone actually was.
“About once a week,” Meredith said. “I’d find a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen, and there were always lights on that shouldn’t be, and the teachers were always complaining about their lunches missing stuff – like bags of chips, or cookies. Once I even heard a radio playing in an empty classroom, but when I went to turn it off, there wasn’t anyone around.” Then she turned to me. “And you remember that one time I told you I heard someone taking a shower in the boy’s locker-room? And I asked you to go and check it out? You remember what you said?” she asked accusingly.
“Ghosts don’t take showers,” I said with a sheepish smile.
“Ghosts. Don’t. Take. Showers,” she said to the officer.
“So what happened today?” the officer asked, still not amused.
“I came into work early,” I said.
“He usually doesn’t get here that early,” Meredith added.
“And when I went into my office, there was a man sitting on my couch,” I said.
“Right there. On his couch,” Meredith said.
“What did he look like?” the officer asked.
“He said he was here to meet with the other pastor, so I told him he had the wrong office,” I said.
“But you couldn’t catch him,” Meredith said.
“Where’d he run to?” the officer asked, still taking notes.
“He ran out the front door and down the street,” I said.
“Did you chase him?” the officer asked.
“So do you think you’re going to catch him?” Meredith asked.
“Did he take anything you know of?” the officer said.
“Food and coffee and stuff like that,” Meredith said, irritated.
“Not anything important,” I said.
“He usually doesn’t,” the officer said.