In the early 1990s I worked as a custodian at a hospital in Sacramento, California. Shortly before having been hired, there had been an accident involving one of the elevators. An employee had stepped into the elevator on the top floor. She became trapped between the doors when they suddenly closed. There she was caught as the elevator plunged to the bottom of the shaft. She, of course, died of her injuries.
This floor was being used as an office space for daytime clerks and secretaries. Nobody stayed in the area past 5 p.m. One of my stops on my nightly cleaning rounds was the top floor where I mopped and emptied trash cans. It usually took about 30 minutes to complete my rounds (with all of the lights on) and during this period it was not unusual to hear the sounds of a woman's shoes walking on the tile floor. At first, I would walk around looking for a late night worker, but I never found anybody.
One night when I was training my replacement, I went to the top floor with a co-worker. This co-worker was very spiritual and strong in her beliefs. Once there we heard the familiar feet on tile and they did not seem to bother my partner. We finished our rounds and went back to the elevator. We pushed the down button and after the door opened, we stepped in and waited for the doors to close. However, they did not. We began to hear the familiar footsteps again and they seemed to be getting closer. Eventually, they stopped somewhere near the elevator. I looked around and saw nobody. My co-worker grew impatient as we waited for the doors to close, and finally she called out, "You better get on if you are coming, I don't have all night". At that point the doors closed and the elevator continued on its journey.