"Let Chris Hansen pick up Old Man Withers, I'll deal with the dead shit." Dean grinned and waggled his eyebrows, situating the shotgun over one shoulder.
At Teague's question held aloft the EMF reader. It was the same one Sam had mocked long ago, his Old Faithful. "Ghosts don't operate on the same plane as us, so they don't make the same sounds as us. EMF readers pick up on that, those things are supposed to too."
When they arrived at the front door, he wasn't surprised to find it padlocked. He crouched down and pulled a lockpick kit out of his duffel, taking two lengths of metal and making quick work of the heavy metal chain. "Ta-dah."