The desire to hear Chesley’s near-melodic voice replaced my headache. I swallowed a couple pain relievers in case the aching set in again, sat on my bed cross-legged, took up my recorder and propped my back against the headboard. Closing my eyes, I pressed play. I’d forgotten I had recorded Steven Renshaw’s testimony the night he died, until I heard his voice. I decided to replay the visit. Most of the conversation was audible, but I had to turn it up and replay some areas muffled from being in my pocket. “Please heed my warning about that place. I just know it’s haunted and you’ll fall prey to its power.” Not having heard that statement before, I replayed it a time or two until I definitely knew what he said. “That is almost creepy,” I mumbled in disbelief. The warning was clear, yet felt out of place with the feelings I had when in the presence of Chesley. Fast-forwarding it to the visit at the mansion, I played it when I heard Chesley’s voice.
