“We had an intense experience upstairs,” he explains. “Things got a little crazy before I thought they’d get a little crazy.”

He goes on to mention “impressions” he got of a little girl dying in a fire and an older woman who was distraught. He says he thinks the little girl might have been trapped behind a wood or metal door, and nobody knew she was there. He even picked up on the fact that her favorite toys when she was alive were “multi-colored wood blocks.”

In the end, a few people wander upstairs to look around the creepy attic which has a peaked ceiling and walls covered in scribble from visitors and family members over the years. It’s clear that the ghost hunting portion of the night is winding to an end.

I spy Donald, the ancestor of the original people who owned this house, and ask her what she thought of the event.

“This is the most that’s ever happened here,” she tells me. “Absolutely.”

Alva, the woman who had picked up the recording of a little girl while visiting the house a few years ago, is equally as pleased.

“It was very fascinating,” she says. “It just really made me believe that there are spirits everywhere around us constantly trying to communicate with us. It makes me wonder what would happen if we stopped to listen more often.”

A few weeks later, I check in with Beatrice, the woman who used to talk to her dead grandfather when she was a child, to see how she felt about the night. Though she’s always believed in spirits, she tells me she was slightly skeptical at the beginning of the Cohen-Bray ghost hunt.

“I was weary of the ghost box,” she says.

But that didn’t last long.

“The answers I got back only the deceased would have known. I communicated with my husband, father, grandmother, and brother. It gave me peace of mind and lightened my heart to know they are at peace and no longer suffering.”

One of my most vivid memories of the night was when we were upstairs in the bedroom using the ghost box and Beatrice had asked her brother, Danny, a question: “What’s my nickname?”

The response had been hard to hear, but Moon had understood it and repeated it back to us: “He says he has to do the math.”

At the time, Beatrice had seemed surprised by his reply. She explained to us that Danny had had Down Syndrome and “literally couldn’t do math.”

Later, when I speak with Beatrice again, she seems to be less nonplussed about the incident. In fact, she tells me she now understands why Danny said what he said.

“Because he had at least six nicknames for me,” she says. “Him saying that would be something he would say to show he is still a little smart ass.”