A few days later my dad got a phone call. After the call, he announced that he had a visitor coming by regarding the body in the wall. He also asked that we not say anything about the specter.

About 45 minutes later the doorbell rang and Dad answered the door. To our dismay, he escorted the visitor to his home office, but they were only in there briefly when Dad came out with his visitor and invited everyone to meet at the kitchen table. We were assembled in a flash because not one of us would miss this meeting for the world.

Dad seated his visitor at the head of the table. He was thin, almost emaciated, had a full head of snow white hair and a face that emanated kindness. His eyes, however, spoke of immense pain. He obviously didn’t relish telling what he had to say but felt it needed to be said. Dad introduced him as Mr. Paul Baker, and said, “Folks, Mr. Baker, has begun to tell me a story that I find extremely interesting. I asked him if he would share it with the whole family, and agreed to do that.” He turned to his visitor, “Mr. Baker, you have the floor, and I beg your indulgence. Please begin again so you can catch everyone up.”

With his slight physique and obvious advanced age, I expected a weak voice and only partially effective communicator. I was surprised to find that he was extremely articulate, with a voice that resonated like that of a professional announcer. He began his amazing and poignant story. “Thank you, Dr. Brooks. I’ll start over. I have lived both in the servants’ quarters out back and in this house itself. The homeowner at that time was Mr. Richard Baker. You’ll ask, of course, if we were kin, and I’ll get to that. Mr. Baker hired my mom as a housekeeper, and she, my twin sister, Abby, and I moved into the quarters. My sister and I were 7 years old at the time, and I couldn’t believe it! We had never lived in anything like it and it was just the ‘servants’ quarters’. Mr. Baker was a bit of a grouch, to put it mildly, but his wife, Mary, was a wonderful woman and she kept him in check.

“Those were good times. Abby and I were very close, twins, you know, and she was just beautiful and grew more beautiful by the day! She was not beautiful only in the way she looked, but her speech, actions, every way, and I thought she might grow up to be a movie star or model. She smiled and laughed a lot, and spoke with a lilt, so her every sentence sounded like a line from a song, and people couldn’t help but like her. We looked a lot alike, and people sometimes told me I was too pretty to be a boy. I finally came up with an answer to that. I would tell them, ‘Part of me is a girl, and she’s really pretty!’ I would wait for their reaction. I loved that part. They would be puzzled, shocked, or think I was crazy. Then I would say, ‘It’s my twin sister, and she really is a beauty!’, and they would usually smile.

“The good times didn’t last. Mrs. Baker died, and we were stuck with Mr. Baker, 'The Grouch’. It was June, and school was out for the summer, so he said he wanted my sister to do the housework instead of my mother. My mother didn’t like it, but, without Mr. Baker, we would be homeless. After a couple of weeks, he moved my sister into the main house. She was in the bedroom next to his. We were 12 years old by then. I could see the constant worry on my mom’s face as she would stand at the kitchen window of the ‘quarters’ and look toward the main house. I didn’t understand, of course. I thought even a mean man like Mr. Baker wouldn’t hurt a 12-year girl! I had never heard the word ‘pedophile’. Even though I greatly missed Abby’s companionship and her magnetic personality, I thought maybe my mom would be able to relax for once in her life. Oh, I’m sure she only suspected the old man was up to something. If she found that he was actually molesting her, she would have taken us out of there. Living on the street would have been better than standing by and allowing that to go on.

“Then, Abby was gone, and Mr. Baker told us she ran off. My mother wanted to call the police, but Mr. Baker told her that she was to contact no one. He said he would call the police and have them look for her, and he had me and my mom move into the room where Abby had stayed. It was difficult, and having all her clothing and toys there made her absence even more painful. We certainly got no sympathy from the old man. It seemed like Abby’s disappearance was just an inconvenience to him.

“Then, he hired some carpenters to do some work in the quarters. After they finished, he locked the place up tight and we were forbidden to go back in there.

“My mother and I were heartbroken. For us, there was no life without Abby. My mother’s health began to fail. She went downhill quickly and died within a few months. You’ve heard of ‘dying of a broken heart’? That’s exactly what happened to my mother. Mr. Baker had an ambulance pick up my mom’s body and take it away. There was no talk of a funeral or burial. I realized much later that he probably had my mom buried in a pauper’s grave. With my mom gone, I wondered what would happen to me. For about a week, It was just him and me in the house, but I don’t know if he even knew I was there. There was plenty of food in the pantry, so I ate what I could find and did my best to stay out of his way for fear he would just say, ‘Get out!’, and that would be it. I would be on the street.

“Then, Mr. Baker hired another housekeeper named ‘Julia’. She was young, pretty, and smart and she took a liking to me. She made me feel loved. I said she was smart; she played her part just right and got him to marry her, change his will, and adopt me. I realized later that he probably had Alzheimer’s, and may not have realized much of what was going on.

“So, my parents were now Richard and Julia Baker. She said I could call her Mom, which I was happy to do. Oh, I still loved and missed my real mom, but Julia became a ‘mom’ to me. She made sure I went to school and made good grades, and she was a wonderful cook. I didn’t call him anything because I was still staying out of his sight as much as I could. He probably didn’t even remember I existed. I told Mom … Julia about my sister and she contacted the police and found that Abby’s disappearance had never been reported, so she made sure a report was filed. I don’t know how much they looked for her, and they never told us anything. I’m pretty sure that, based on what I told her, she understood more about what had gone on than I did.

“Mom … Julia discovered that Mr. Baker had made his money by using his political connections to be able to supply alcohol to the speakeasies during prohibition. Then, with those same connections, he made even more money importing alcohol after prohibition. As I said, he was a bit ‘out of it’, but he had lucid moments. When he was able to recall them, he was actually proud of his exploits, and freely admitted much of his story. He no longer had political connections; but most of his crimes were now covered by the ‘statute of limitations’, meaning he could not be prosecuted due to the amount of time that had passed. I say ‘most of his crimes’. The ‘statute of limitations’ doesn’t apply to murder, so he either never murdered anyone, or he never got caught.

“Mr. Baker died four years later. Julia sold this house and bought us a place much more suitable for just two people. Life was about as good as I could ask but, without Abby, there was a big hole in my heart that would never heal. When I really got down, Mom was the best counselor I could have gotten and she helped me over some really rough patches.

“Mom died several years ago, and she left me enough that I wouldn’t have to work for the rest of my life, even though she had seen to it that I got a college degree because she believed that education was important to the development of the whole person. I started a small business. It didn’t amount to much, but one of the many things she taught me was that man has to work; for his own well-being if not for the money. Mom also left a lot to different charities, most of them helping children. She loved children, even though she never bore any. I was her child, though, and she was my mother. Her love was a blessing for which I’m thankful, and I made sure she knew that. I told her many times she had saved my life and she told me she couldn’t have loved me more if I was her own flesh and blood. Her love, influence, and discipline made me a much better person than I would have otherwise been. She was a good woman. True; she manipulated and deceived Mr. Baker, but it was the means to an end. She was frugal with the money that this evil man had hoarded so it took care of me and went to good causes.”
************************************************************************

Here he paused; his eyes seemed to focus on something in the distance. No one interrupted because between him and that upon which his eyes focused was a distance that no one could traverse. This was a painful reality to Mr. Baker, because that distance was a distance, not of miles, but of years separating him from the people he loved so much … and those who loved him so much in return. It has been said, 'The eyes are the window to the soul.' This man’s eyes laid bare the terrible pain of loss he had suffered. The slings and arrows that had assailed him left a lonely, effete, shell of what was once a beautiful boy who loved his mother and admired his beautiful, talented sister. His reverie lasted two or three minutes. My dad looked at each of us with his finger to his lips; signaling us not speak; not to break the man’s trance. He didn’t have to give us that signal. We all knew the importance of the man’s quiet contemplation. We were witnessing a man finally laying down a burden he had carried for five decades. When his painful reflection ended, he came back to us and continued, “The main thing I want to tell y’all today is ‘Thank you.’, because when I saw your story on television, I recognized the house right away, and I got a lawyer to order DNA tests on the body found in the quarters. The results came back yesterday. It was Abby. Her body was in that wall all these years. It’s my dear sister, Abby ….” His voice broke and he bowed his head. Tears were flowing from everyone in the room by now.

When he recovered his composure a little, he continued. “Abby didn’t deserve this. She was the sweetest, prettiest little girl you would ever meet … 12 years old!” It seemed his own words stabbed at his very heart, rendering unable to continue. He broke down.

My dad stood up and walked over to the man and put his hand on his shoulder. “Would you like me to pray for you?”

The man nodded; his head bowed.

“Dear God, we pray for this man who you have led to us today. The Bible said, ‘The devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.’ Lord, you see the pain and heartache the devil has caused to be brought upon this man and his family. Help him to cast his cares upon you, because The Bible tells us to cast all of our cares upon You because You care for us. Lord, heal this man’s broken spirit and give him joy once again. If it be in Your Will, give him the assurance that he will see his loved ones again. Let him go from this place with a renewed spirit, knowing that You love and care for him.”

After the prayer, the man raised his head and shook hands with my dad. “Thank you, sir. Y’all have been too kind. I won’t take any more of your time ….”

“Mr. Baker, I would be ashamed of myself if I were to stand here looking at my watch and say something like, ‘I have to get to a meeting.’ We have plenty of time for you, and would gladly set aside more time, if necessary. If there’s anything else you need, we will be pleased to help in any way we can.”

“Thank you again, Dr. Brooks. I don’t know that I have ever met such wonderful people as you and your beautiful family. I can’t thank you enough for what you have done already, Dr. Brooks. I think God led you to this house, and led you to find my sister. The circumstances are terrible, but I don’t think I really expected anything else.”

“I don’t think you want to visit the quarters, but I thought I’d offer.”

“Oh, no! I don’t think I could take it! Thank you, though. I’ll be going.”

My dad handed him a business card. “Stay in touch, and don’t hesitate to call should you need anything.”

“Thank you, Dr. Brooks, goodbye and God bless you.”

After many goodbyes and hugs, Mr. Baker was gone, leaving behind many tears and a chorus of sniffles. Maybe it was my imagination, but he seemed to stand just a bit taller after having a burden lifted from his shoulders. Maybe my dad’s prayer helped.

“Dad, why did you not want us to tell him about the ghost?”

“Well, Sarah, he had told me a little about the situation when he called on the phone. I knew he was in pain and has been for decades. I didn’t think we needed to add to his pain by telling him that his sister has been crying out for help all this time.”

“Thanks, Dad. That makes a lot of sense.”

Dad continued, “It took someone sensitive enough to see the specter and someone like Lisa to immediately notice the problem with the dimensions of the hall and adjoining room. Yep. It took the team of ‘Rivers and Brooks! Now that I think about it, I do believe Mr. Baker is right when he says that God led us to this house, and led us to find his sister.”

After he said that, my dad stood with his arms folded a few seconds, looking thoughtful. “A few years ago, a national news magazine had a cover story entitled, ‘Does Evil Exist?’ After hearing Mr. Baker’s story, I think that question has been answered for us today.”

My dad was right, of course. Evil has afflicted man for thousands of years. Even today, in our beautiful, free country, evil flourishes. It thrives in the dark, behind closed doors, and sometimes hidden in plain sight. Incidents like the hell Mr. Baker went through sometimes bring evil to light like a sore developing on an otherwise healthy body. We rarely think about it because to do so would make it impossible to blithely live our comfortable lives. Thus, we have assembled a multi-layered army of law enforcement personnel spanning every level of government and built hundreds of jails, prisons, mental hospitals and the like. We hire people to manage evil people and build places to keep them from disrupting our comfort. I guess there’s no other way to handle it, because evil thrives partially because of our freedom, and it’s a complex undertaking to determine when someone’s freedom should be limited. The sad thing is, that freedom is almost always limited only after the damage is done.

Lisa and I went to see if we could go back into the quarters. Sure enough, the feeling of gloom and death was gone. With part of the wall torn down, Dad could get a better measurement. He found the wall to be 18¼ inches thick. Inside the wall, part of the original wall of standard depth could be seen. The room had been made several inches smaller, because taking it out of the hallway would have been noticeable, even by someone who was not Lisa Rivers. Walking back to the main house, I felt like we were at the end of a long ugly battle against malevolence. I don’t think we could claim victory. We think we found the truth, but a man still had his mom die before her time and lost his beautiful sister before her life could really begin. We could feel some relief, but no happiness. The devil was laughing at us as he planned and executed similar schemes around the world by the minute.

Next: Graduation-morning after