Caleb dominated the conversation after that. Ari, cowed by the reminder that he was an interloper in a group with established dynamics and histories, kept his mouth full or shut for a good long time. 

The realities of this job, revealed in sharp and unforgiving photographs on the screen of Caleb's iPad, were dire, as Graham had said. Even before one considered the alleged haunting, the house out by White River Junction was an obvious risk to health and safety. In exterior shots, it sagged and slumped under the weight of neglect. The gutters smiled. It looked less like a generic Vermont farmhouse and more like a two-tier wedding cake left out in the heat. Inside, it was as every bit as bad as the outside suggested. Worse. Every room was a storehouse of moldering boxes split by time and disgorging their contents like the insides of roadkill. Assorted microbial colonies clung to the walls and, judging by the haze in many of the shots, migrated through the air. In several rooms, the floors obviously bowed toward the center. The cold light of the flash imbued every shot with the energy of a crime scene.

"Looks like a ghost's not the only thing that would make selling this place a challenge," Ellie said. She'd zipped up her jumpsuit to accommodate the lav mic Graham had brought out for her to wear. Caleb had even sweet talked the teenaged staff and undergrad shift manager of the Creamy Freeze into letting them drag a table away from the ruckus in order to film their briefing session. 

Ari hadn't used his mic so far, and he'd considered telling Graham he didn't need one at all.

"They've had some motivated career renovators look at it," Caleb said. "It's closer to a full tear down job than a quick flip, but it's supposedly salvageable."

Graham had taken cover behind the screen of his laptop. He'd seen enough. "Coulda fooled me."

Caleb advanced his grim slideshow to a kitchen - or a dumping ground that had once been a kitchen - with a black scar up the wall behind the stove and a hasty path beaten through the trash between the stove and the doorway. "The electricity's been restored for the time being, but the propane tank for the stove had to go. That's what chased off the last couple that came to view the place."

"It starts fires? This one starts fires?" Graham's interest was recaptured. 

"She does," Wyn said, a little sharply. "Or, I gather, she manipulates objects. Turning one knob on an old stove doesn't take a lot of force, but any parent will tell you it can do a lot of damage."

Was that what had happened to Wyn? Ari quashed the thought with undue aggression.

"And there's no reliable way to ghost proof your house." Graham was looking over his screen now, across the table, straight at Ari. "What do you think, Ari? This is your first on site job, right?"

Ah. He wasn't being interesting enough.

"Yeah. I've only worked with individuals before, not places." Nobody needed to know he'd only 'worked' once before.

"Vatican stuff," Ellie said. She passed a conspiratorial look to Graham.

“No way,” Ari said, too quickly.

"Good, Martin used to freak us out doing his whole deal," Graham said.

"More than I freak you out?" Wyn asked, the radio static crackle of chewed iced behind his words. Ari had to wonder if he was doing that to trick himself out of wanting food.

"You know what?” Graham said, “Yeah."

"All right, stay on task." Caleb snapped his fingers. "As you can see, the house itself isn't useful as a base of operations. That's one reason we're here eating chicken fingers instead of working. The family have been staying in a portable office on loan from a family friend, and they're ostensibly making a space there for us to use.”

"Takes me back to middle school," Graham said.

Ari leaned forward to scrutinize the image of the burned kitchen more closely. What was he looking for, even? Nothing. He was play-acting at appearing skeptical. "Is it the activity that's keeping them from clearing the house?"

"Partly," Caleb swept his iPad up and straightened. "There are some family dynamics holding that up."

"Pack rats," Graham said.

"Putting it crassly, yes. Be that as it may, Graham, try to keep your language respectful when we're interacting with them." 

"Naturally. You know I have a way with old ladies. So, you ready to roll out?"

Caleb broke from them, into the lot. "We'd better if we want to be fully set up by seven," he said. "Ellie, follow my car. The property is on a long drive with no mailbox, so it's easy to miss the turn."