by Angie Fox
Yep. That had to be Frankie.
A string of administrative code ran underneath the small image that showed Ellis’s screen within the app. The slashes, shapes, and half words didn’t make a lick of sense to me. Then again, I never would have imagined anyone could create an app like this.
“The truth is—” Ellis sighed, his voice slow and resigned “—I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”
Oh, my goodness. He was in pain. He’d tried to hide how much his leg hurt him, but I knew. It was obvious to anyone who looked at him.
“I hate that Verity is a ghost hunter.”
I froze.
“God, that felt good to admit.”
It couldn’t be true. Not really. My heart thudded, and my hands began to shake. I mean, he said he worried about me, and of course he did, but he’d also said how proud he was and how could he not tell me that he didn’t like me being a ghost hunter when that was what I did?
“Scary,” the app’s mechanical voice said.
Oh, and now Frankie was taking his side?
I wished the king of all apps could have let me talk as well as listen because if Ellis had to tell me something, he sure as heck needed to say it to my face instead of confiding in Frankie of all people. Frankie, who probably wasn’t even listening at this point and didn’t care about this case or my life or anything I cared about, and—
“Stubborn,” the app chirped.
“Hey,” I barked as the word flashed up on the screen.
Ellis sighed. “I told her I accepted this new career path. I thought I did.”
“Yes, you did tell me you were proud of me and that you were glad I could help people,” I pointed out, my voice echoing in the broom closet.
“I tried. At first, it seemed harmless.”
I leapt to my feet, itching to stand, to move. “Harmless?” I asked, pacing the small closet. I’d been in danger from my very first mission—the one he’d hired me to do.
“Then we arrived here, and it got really ugly,” Ellis added.
Of course. But that was the nature of the job. When I set things right, it tended to tick off scary, bad people. But it was part of my job and I liked it and I was good at it.
“Now she’s almost gotten killed twice, and I’m injured,” Ellis continued.
“The body chute didn’t kill me,” I said to the walls. It wasn’t like Ellis could hear me. “And Crazy Charlie gave me his knife instead of stabbing me.”
That was a total win.
“Crazy,” the app chirped.
“I know,” Ellis said, just assuming my friend was taking his side. “These things can hurt her, and us, and maybe even you,” he said to my ghost. “And worse, there’s no end in sight. She’s doing this for a living now.”
“Free,” the app chirped.
Frankie had better be talking about his freedom and not complaining about my lack of compensation on this job. The one I was doing for him.
I braced my forehead on the edge of the metal shelving.
How had this gotten so messed up?
Ellis sighed, as if he were wondering the same thing. “The worst thing is, I’m not even a part of it. I mean, I am and I’m not.”
“You are,” I said to the wall. “You are so much a part of everything I do.”
How could he not realize that?
“I’m locked out of it,” he said to the ghost. “The only thing I have is a dumb app. For all I know, you wandered off ten minutes ago.”
The app gave no response.
Hmm…Ellis might actually be right on that one.
“I’m stuck,” he said, and I heard the despair creeping into his voice. “Verity is trapped and in danger, and I’m sitting in a basement.”
“Guarding a murder scene,” I reminded him, even if he couldn’t hear.
“I trust that she’s going to be okay, but she flies off and goes adventuring, and I don’t know where she is or what she’s doing. She goes up a body chute and then calls down to me like everything is just great because she ran into a ghost who haunts a lunatic asylum.”
To be fair, that one did work out.
I dropped back down onto the overturned bucket. But, still, I was starting to see his point.
“It’s something I can never be a part of,” he said, sounding more lost than anything.
It was just me who could see the ghosts, just me who could open up to the other side. I couldn’t fix that.
“A ghost could kill her right in front of me, and there would be nothing I could do to stop it.”
“Heavens.” I hung my head. He was right about that, even if it was the worst-case scenario. And it had almost happened once.
“Control,” the ghost app chirped.
It might have been the smartest thing Frankie had said all night.
Ellis needed to control situations. He liked to keep people safe. But he also liked to be the one in charge, and he was definitely not the one running my ghost adventures.
I wasn’t even the one in charge of those half the time.
“Every time she takes on a job, I try to downplay it in my mind,” Ellis said quickly, as if talking himself out of his precarious position. “But here, tonight, it’s in my face, and I’m just not sure I’m cut out to take it.”
I stood and switched off the radio entirely. I had to get down there and talk to him. I’d find the Burowskis, and then Ellis and I would have it out.
It was obvious he’d been having these kinds of issues for a while. There was absolutely no excuse for him to keep it from me. He couldn’t tell me he was fine, that he was proud, when he was having these kinds of doubts. It wasn’t healthy or right.
I pushed my way out of the janitor’s closet. It was as if he’d learned to communicate from…Virginia Wydell.
I made a face as I adjusted the night-vision goggles.
His mother was better at controlling than talking about feelings. We all saw how good she was at relationships.
I made my way down the north hall.
Ellis absolutely could not, should not say everything was fine while keeping such a big secret from me.
No.
He needed to understand that we wouldn’t have a decent chance at a future together if he wasn’t going to tell me how he really felt.
I poked my head into the next examination room and saw a bright, ghostly orb dancing near the ceiling.
Ellis wouldn’t be able to see that. He couldn’t experience it with me. And, yes, it bothered me too that I was alone in this.
The orb passed through the ceiling and onto the third floor.
But I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t suddenly give him power or make my job any less dangerous. He couldn’t either, but he could at least be honest with me.
I made my way down the hallway once more.
What else wasn’t he telling me?
That talk about me dying was in extremely poor taste. Especially since he was down in the basement—alone for all practical purposes—guarding a crime scene from a killer. Ellis could be the one killed on this job if he didn’t watch it. If he didn’t stay alert and aware and stop talking to my unhelpful ghost.
Or maybe I was just mad Ellis had confided in Frankie—Frankie of all people—instead of me.
Well, that was about to end as soon as I could manage it.
“We’re going to have a come to Jesus,” I vowed, even as my hands shook and my stomach danced at the thought. I couldn’t afford for it to go wrong, not with Ellis. He was my strength and my rock, and I couldn’t risk losing him. I also couldn’t believe he’d keep things from me.
Only he had.
“We are definitely going to talk.”
Ellis was going to tell me everything. His thoughts, his feelings. Whether he wanted to or not.
“We’ll work it out,” I vowed.
We always had.
And just when I thought things might possibly get better, a scream of terror echoed from the room up ahead. It sounded like Joan.
It sounded like I’d just found the Burowskis.
19
A second scream rang out seconds before I made it into the room and rushed inside. Bright lights exploded in my night-vision goggles, turning everything a harsh green. I whipped them off, my eyes struggling to adjust to the very real, extremely bright industrial floodlight trained onto an examination table.
The room buzzed harder and louder than an industrial bug zapper.
Where had anyone gotten power or equipment or…
My eyes focused, and I saw Joan, struggling and terrified, lying on that table under the light. At least I thought it was Joan. She wore the same black jeans and green top, only she had a canvas bag tied over her head.
She fought her bonds and let out another scream.
My goggles clattered to the floor as I rushed to her.
“I’ve got you!” I said, scanning the room for Tom or any other threats and, ohmygoodness, I saw him laid out on an examination table behind her.
He lay in the shadows beyond the glaring light, but what I could see was bad. He wore a metal hat with wires streaming from it. His teeth clenched a gnawed and gnarled piece of wood.
“Just give me a second.” I hurried to him and slipped off the helmet, my hair lifting from the static shock of standing next to him. I felt for a pulse at his neck, but I already knew he was gone from the way his eyes stared at the ceiling.
Yellow and white soul traces had begun to shimmer from his prone form.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, slipping the sheet from his body over his head.
“Verity,” Joan called after me, scared.
“I’m here,” I assured her, returning to her side.
My fingers shook as I pulled the bag off Joan’s head. “I’ve got you. I won’t leave you,” I said, struggling to untie the canvas straps holding Joan down.
“Help,” she whispered over the hum of the light. Her fingers clutched for me as I worked.
“What happened?” I said under my breath, very conscious of how vulnerable we were while I worked on her ties. I kept half an eye on the job, the other watching for Tom’s killer to leap out or a ghost to appear or… “Lie still,” I pressed as Joan yanked a tie, tightening what I’d just loosened.
“They hit me on the back of the head,” she said, lifting off the table. The sheet underneath was stained with blood. Although not much. Thank goodness. They hadn’t hit her hard enough. “They came at us in the dark,” she said, voice raw. “It was like they could see in the dark!”
“Sweet heaven.” Of course they could see.
They had night-vision goggles.
And they were waiting for me downstairs.
“This must be their light,” I said, eyeing the cord attached to a portable battery.
They’d come prepared. Who knew how long they’d been inside before we’d found them.
“Why did they come after you?” I demanded.
“I—” Joan stammered. “I don’t know.”
“I’m going to get you out of here,” I vowed.
I’d trusted Cash and Brett. I’d believed they were good guys. But not everyone was who or what they appeared to be, and I should know that by now.
I pulled the bag off Joan’s head. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Where am I? Where’s Tom?”
“You’re in an examination room on the second floor,” I said, giving her the best version of the truth I could manage. I wasn’t sure how to tell her about her husband.
One step at a time.
“They came up so fast,” she said as I freed one hand.
“Try to get your other hand free while I untie your legs,” I said. I didn’t know how much time we had. Cash and Brett knew I was up here.
I froze. “I’ll bet they can track my radio.”
They were probably tracking Ellis right now through the ghost app.
“Hurry,” I urged. They could have been listening to us this entire time.
Ellis wouldn’t even see them coming. He thought they were on our side.
Joan had worked her hand free, and when we got her legs, I helped her down off the table. As she steadied herself, I tried to direct her away from Tom.
“Oh!” she cried, nearly collapsing when she saw his prone form under the sheet.
“I’m sorry.” I held her up. Barely. I couldn’t imagine what she was going through. “We have to get out of here right now,” I urged. She moved toward him and away from the door. But he was gone now. For all we knew, he’d provoked the killers to give her a chance. We owed it to him to seize that opportunity. “He’d want you to live.”
She nodded, dazed, and I managed to scoop my night-vision goggles off the floor and lead her out of the room.
“Follow me,” I said, strapping on the goggles. Thank goodness I hadn’t broken them.
I yanked the radio off my belt and tossed it into the room with Tom. The ghost hunters might know I’d found Joan, but they didn’t have to know where we were going next.
Scratch that. Anyone with half a brain would guess my next move. I had to warn Ellis.
It was the only thing I could do.
“Ellis is down in the morgue,” I told Joan, leading her back to the main staircase.
I hoped we wouldn’t be too late.
It was bad enough Ellis didn’t like me ghost hunting, but if it killed him, I’d never forgive myself.
“Faster,” I said, dodging a rotting hospital gurney as we hurried for the main stairs.
“Wait.” Joan halted, tugging at my sleeve. She wiped the tears streaming down her face. “What if the ghosts hunters are on the first floor?”
They could be anywhere now. “We’ll keep the flashlights off. I’ll guide you.”
It wasn’t hard. She was like Jell-O.
Until she wasn’t. “No,” Joan said, digging in. “If I were them, I’d be waiting for us to go down the main staircase.”
“Well…” I had to give her that.
“There’s a staff stairwell,” she said, retreating to the wall, feeling her way along the passageway.
“The one you used to sneak around,” I muttered, taking her arm and leading her faster.
It was a good idea, even if I didn’t relish going down the haunted staircase again. “The catch is, I don’t know how to find the morgue if we go down that stairway.”
It wasn’t like I could count on Crazy Charlie hanging around. He’d have his knife back by now, and he might not be as accommodating the second time around.
“I can lead us to the morgue and the spiral staircase,” Joan assured me as we reached the stairwell door.
Because Joan could very well be one of the killers after all. “Let’s go,” I said, resolved as I reached for the rusted knob, checking the hallway one last time before we closed ourselves inside.
“Why are you so angry with me?” Joan asked in the dark.
I parked my night-vision goggles on my forehead and handed her my spare flashlight before she killed herself navigating a steep staircase in the dark.
“Earlier tonight, you denied sneaking into the basement when you clearly had,” I said, turning on my flashlight.
Her beam joined mine. “We weren’t exactly sneaking.”
“You lied about where you were,” I said, starting down.
She let out a low huff. “I was terrified. Tom was embarrassed that the stairwell scared him. He hates being embarrassed.” Her words ended on a sob. “Hated,” she corrected. “Oh, my goodness,” she added weakly.
“I’m sorry.” Darn it. I couldn’t imagine what she was going through.
She stifled a sob and continued. “Tom wanted to look at the records Barbara kept in the storage room in the basement,” she said, the soles of her shoes grinding against the dusty stairs. “He agreed to let me talk all night to Rodger after we did that. I was okay with his plan until we reached the lobby level.”
She slowed as we approached that very level, her light bouncing off the mirror that had terrifie
d me earlier. “Right here,” she said as if daring the ghost of Loretta to appear. “A cold wind hit us. I swore it chased us. Straight down.”
“I believe you,” I said. As I uttered the words, a low hiss echoed down the staircase. “It’s probably a ghost named Loretta. From what I gather, she feels like she has no escape,” I said into the dark, hoping the poor, abused woman could hear me. “Just like us right now. But we’ll make it right.” Joan slipped her hand into mine and I clutched it hard. “That’s a promise to both of you.”
This couldn’t continue. It wouldn’t.
I nearly shrieked when a ghost with streaming hair appeared in the mirror.
A noose curled loosely around her neck, and I could see where it had cut deep into her throat. “You!” she hissed, pointing directly at us.
“I didn’t do anything,” I protested.
“What?” Joan implored as I grabbed her arm and ran straight past the ghost, down the stairs, down to the basement.
We had to get to Ellis. Failure was not an option, and Lord help us if Loretta followed us down there.
“I hate the basement!” Joan cried, and I pulled her along, down, down. “I hate it!”
We’d find Ellis. We’d get out of here. We’d catch Cash and Brett and we’d somehow convince Dr. Anderson to free the souls trapped here. And teach Nurse Claymore she really could make a difference.
Then I’d figure out what to do about Scalieri.
And try to save my relationship.
“I don’t want to see ghosts anymore!” Joan sobbed as we reached the bottom of the stairs.
“At the moment, I’m not too crazy about it myself.” I slammed the door closed behind us.
As if that would stop a ghost.
“Where to next?” I pressed, trying to help her keep her focus.
Joan nodded and kept nodding until I began to fear she couldn’t speak. She raised a shaking hand. “This way,” she said, pointing right.
“Let’s go,” I said, and Joan—true to her word—led us through the maze of passageways.
I sure hoped she was in her right mind because we couldn’t afford to get lost.
Our lights bounced off the walls as we dodged puddles and crunched over patches of gravel. Passageways branched off to our left and right. Then, up ahead, I saw the spiral staircase.