NO BODIES, NO CLUES, JUST QUESTIONS
By Walt Jensen, Staff Writer
April 17, 1995 | Foggy Hollow, WV
In a case that has authorities baffled, the prestigious and enigmatic Vandenberg family—John, Maureen, and their children, Simon (16) and Lily (15)—have disappeared without a trace from their historic estate on the outskirts of town.
The family’s longtime butler, Mr. Denis Tulane, left the estate shortly after 7:00 p.m. Thursday evening to run errands just as the family was sitting down to dinner. Not long after, a 911 call was placed from the residence. Though patchy and brief, the caller—believed to be Maureen Vandenberg—sounded distressed.
“It cut out before we could get a clear read,”said Sheriff Doyle Whitmore. “By the time deputies arrived, the house was empty. Dinner still on their plates.”
There were no signs of forced entry. No indication of struggle. The only unusual detail noted at the scene was a fallen candelabra near the dining room table.
“Smells like a cover up, if you ask me,” said longtime resident Opal Farnsworth. “People don’t just vanish into thin air. Something horrible happened to that family. And whatever it is, the people of this town deserve to know.”
The estate, a prominent fixture in Foggy Hollow history, has stood for over two centuries and has long been the subject of local legend and lore. Now, it’s the center of a real-life mystery.
The investigation is ongoing. Authorities urge anyone with information to contact the sheriff’s office.
1
THE STAKEOUT
“Today is Saturday, August ninth. I’m positioned one hundred yards southwest of our trail cam. The time is ten-oh-six p.m. So far, no signs of paranormal activity.”
And no sign of Twig, either.
Which could be considered paranormal, as Twig is nothing if not punctual.
I push pause on the small recording device and swat at a mosquito buzzing by my ear. A lock of auburn hair falls in front of my eye. I blow it out of the way and peer through my binoculars. They don’t have night-vision, so all I really see is the dark outline of trees, and if I squint really hard, the vague impression of headstones poking through fog.
The scent of damp moss and decaying leaves hangs in the air. Thin shafts of moonlight pokethrough the canopy above. They trickle through what’s left of the windows, empty eye sockets of shattered stained glass, and stretch down charred beams and crumbled stone. Crickets chirp uneasily, occasionally interrupted by the haunting hoot of an owl.
This is where we do our stakeouts—inside the ruins of St. Fortuna’s church, a once-sacred space that’s being slowly consumed by time and the Monongahela National Forest. Foggy Hollow is nestled in a valley of the Allegheny Mountains. The ruins sit on the outskirts of town and offer an elevated view.
I lay on my stomach, elbows propped on the tarp spread beneath me, peering at the cemetery in search of my target, the Woman of the Woods. A ghostly figure with long, raven hair and a white flowing gown who has been rumored to wander the cemetery on nights when the moon is full. Over the past two years, Twig and I have made it our mission to capture her on camera.
A bat flits through St. Fortuna’s skeletal frame. I’m not afraid. I welcome the bats. I would prefer more, honestly. Anything to get rid of these mosquitos.
I swat at another.
I’m wearing a long-sleeve dry-fit top, black leggings, and black combat boots. Everything is covered, except for my hands and my neck and my face, which would maybe be sufficient at any other time. But this is August, peak mosquito season,and they’re especially bad in these particular ruins, where puddles of water sit stagnant.
I could use some bug spray.
At the moment, I could also use a Xanax.
“There has to be a solution,” I mutter to the night.
One that doesn’t involve moving.
Away from Twig.
Away from this town.
The knots in my stomach tie tighter.
Foggy Hollow has been my home for seven years. And while I didn’t move here willingly—my nine-year-old self convinced that leaving Ohio would mean losing my mother forever—it took no time at all to fall head over heels in love with the town and the boy who introduced me to it. It felt like destiny, coming here. Like Twig and I were meant to be best friends, and Foggy Hollow was meant to be my home. But now, I might have to leave. Right on the cusp of my favorite season, too.
