When Ghosts Speak - Mary Ann Winkowski [70]
I had a very dramatic encounter with a young girl ghost who was eight years old. Ted and I had been spending the holidays with a friend who lives on a vast ranch in Arizona. As you approached the main house, you passed through an impressive wrought-iron gate decorated with folk art figures of children at play. When we first arrived, I noticed a ghost of a young girl playing with the sculptures on the fence near the gate.
I mentioned her to our host, who was familiar with my work. He told me she might be the child of one of the ranch’s employees, who had tragically died a few weeks before my visit. He asked that if I saw her again, I talk to her and see if I could find out anything to tell her grieving mother.
A few days later, I was sitting on a bench in the courtyard enjoying the sunshine and a fountain that was home to a school of koi when I saw the girl shyly lingering by the fountain. She had a spooked look, and I knew from my foster parenting that some kids are uneasy around adults. I suspected she was one. I also suspected that she thought that, just like all the other people on the ranch, I had no idea she was there.
I began talking aloud to myself. “I love that pretty yellow fish,” I said. “I wonder what his name is.”
“Goldie,” the little ghost whispered.
“I like that name,” I said, looking at her for the first time.
I was afraid she was going to run away, but instead she moved closer to where I was sitting. “I’ve named them all,” she told me.
“What’s your name, honey?” I asked.
“Becky,” she whispered.
We talked about the fish for a while, and then, as casually as I could, I asked her where her mommy was. I expected she would tell me that she was somewhere nearby, at work in the main house on the ranch.
“I don’t know,” she said.
After a few more gentle questions, I learned that she wasn’t related to anyone at the ranch. She told me she had been “hit on the head by a man”; when she woke up, the room was hot and dark and there was fire everywhere. She had seen the white Light, she told me, and she’d seen her older brother go into it, but she didn’t want to follow him. All she wanted to do was to get away from the strange house she had been staying in. I felt strongly that this little girl’s violent death had not been an accident. As I tried to get more information about where she had lived and how she’d found her way to the ranch, I saw our host walking toward me. Although I tried to wave him off, it was too late. The ghost had vanished.
I told him what I had learned and what I further suspected. He knew my track record in working with law enforcement, so I wasn’t too surprised when, that night before dinner, the sheriff—Buck—stopped by the ranch. Our host introduced me as a friend from Ohio and invited him to join us for a cocktail. “Thanks, but I can’t drink on duty,” Buck said. Then he swept his cowboy hat off, gave a little bow in my direction, and said “Howdy, ma’am.” For a minute I felt like I was an extra on the set of a Western movie.
The owner of the ranch asked Buck if he’d heard of any recent deaths of children in a fire. Buck said that yes, in fact, he had an open case where two children had been killed in a suspicious fire, and why were we asking? I figured I might as well speak up. I asked him if one of the dead children was named Becky Gonzalez.
Buck gave me the suspicious look that I was more than familiar with. I see it often on the faces of law enforcement officials when I give them correct information about a confidential case. “How do you know her name?”
“I asked her,” I replied.
Now I could see that Buck was trying to figure out how to be polite to the nutcase from Ohio staying at his friend’s ranch. I figured it couldn’t get any worse, so I added, “I can see and talk to people who have died.”
Buck sat down hard and looked at his friend. “I think I’ll take that drink,” he said.
I offered to get more information and see if I could help his case. After talking to his friend and me a bit longer, Buck agreed that he’d be back the next day to find out if I’d learned anything else.