Standing below the hay loft, Julie Bukovich listened to the heavy grunts and creaks of the old barn as the sun set outside and the evening grew colder. She’d been living with her boyfriend on the 19-acre Chesapeake farm for long enough that the sounds were familiar. But the feeling she’d recently been getting – a sense, like an invisible presence, something hovering, something watching her – was new. On this March evening, she watched the expert she’d called to investigate go to work.