The Fayes House Investigation: What Really Happened at the Rechic Retail Store
“Two members of my team independently reported the same feeling of unease in the same room without having spoken to each other about it — and that kind of corroboration is exactly what makes me slow down and pay attention.”
— Jason Hawes
Every location has a story, and some of those stories are harder to shake than others. The Fayes House — now operating as the Rechic retail store — carries a tragic one: a woman fell down the stairs, and no one found her for days. Whether that kind of history leaves something behind is exactly what I set out to determine.
I've been doing this long enough to know that tragedy has a way of living on in the minds of the people connected to a place — and sometimes that's all it is. When we pulled up to the Fayes House, I wasn't walking in ready to confirm a haunting. I was walking in ready to work. The reports coming out of this location included unexplained sounds, the persistent feeling of being watched, and general unease that staff and visitors had struggled to explain away. My job isn't to validate those feelings automatically. My job is to find out what's actually causing them.
Before we ever set up a single piece of equipment, we did what any serious investigator should do: we walked the building methodically and looked for the obvious stuff first. Old structures like this one are full of natural explanations — settling foundations, drafts from aged windows and doorways, plumbing that knocks and groans in ways that can genuinely unsettle you if you don't know what you're listening for. The staircase where the woman reportedly fell got particular attention from me. Staircases in older homes carry all kinds of variables: uneven risers, worn treads, poor lighting, and in some cases structural shifts over time. I wanted to understand the physical reality of that space before I entertained anything else.
Once the walk-through was complete, we set up our equipment throughout the location — covering the staircase, the main floor, and the areas where activity had been reported most consistently. We ran audio recorders, video cameras, and environmental monitors to track temperature and electromagnetic fluctuations throughout the night. Then we investigated, methodically moving through each area, calling out, sitting in silence, and documenting everything we experienced in real time. There were moments during the night that gave me pause — sounds that didn't have an immediate explanation, a temperature drop in one area that registered clearly on our equipment, and at least one instance where both members of my team independently noted an uncomfortable feeling in the same room without having spoken to each other about it first. I take that kind of corroboration seriously, even if I don't leap to conclusions based on it.
What I can tell you is this: some of what gets reported at a location like this is almost certainly rooted in the building itself. Old houses speak. They creak and settle and channel air in ways that produce sounds that feel intentional when you're alone and already aware of the history. But I'd be doing a disservice to the investigation — and to the people who work in this building every day — if I dismissed everything as structural noise and called it done. There were elements of this night that warrant a closer look at the evidence we captured. I don't make claims I can't back up, and I'm not going to start now. The footage speaks for itself, and I'd rather you watch it and form your own opinion than take my word for it either way.
The Fayes House is a location that deserves serious attention, not sensationalism. My verdict at this point is inconclusive — there are elements I can explain and at least a few that I can't yet. I'll keep digging into the evidence, and as always, I encourage you to watch the full investigation and decide for yourself.