“Oh, nothing,” Jade said nonchalantly. “But if you’d looked at his social media, you would have seen that he’d just finished an engagement photo gig for Victor Warren and Rachel Isaacson.”
Riley gasped and gave Jade’s arm a light slap. “Shut up. Victor Warren as in Howie from Tiana’s Circle?”
“Sounds like it,” Jade said, smiling smugly at her, and clearly enjoying how Riley could come unglued at the mere mention of that show.
“If I hug him,” Riley said, “would it mean that I hugged Howie through osmosis or something?”
Jade just stared at her.
Riley scoffed. “Rochelle would understand. Howie is the most attractive fictional man that has ever been created. How have you still not watched it? You’d get it if you watched it.”
“I tried! It’s so—”
“Choose your words carefully, woman.”
Jade laughed, shaking her head. “How are you into both hardcore true crime and also the fluffiest, most dramatic TV show in recent memory?”
“I contain multitudes. Also, how dare you,” Riley said. “I can’t be held responsible for any fan-girling that may happen when I meet Ian, by the way.” She pulled out her phone to text Rochelle about this very intriguing development.
Jade’s retort was cut off when, on the other side of the patchy lawn, one of the blue doors swung open in Riley’s peripheral vision. Looking up from her phone, she craned her neck and spotted a forty-something man standing in the doorway of a well-lit classroom.
“Ms. Higgins?” the man called out.
Jade grinned at Riley, then turned around, arm in the air. “That’s me!” She grabbed the box of cameras off the bench. Riley followed after her, her text only half written, and stuck her phone into her back pocket.
“Welcome, ladies,” he said as they stepped into the room. “Thanks for meeting me here. I would have met you somewhere closer to you. I—”
Jade shook her head, cutting off his apology. “It’s no trouble.” She beelined for the long table in the front of the room where Ian had already laid out several film cameras, presumably for the class starting in a half hour, and set down the box. The only other furniture in the room was the large chalkboard on the wall behind the table, and on the other side of the room, three rows of blue plastic chairs.
Riley studied Ian. He had a hipster vibe—dark jeans; plaid shirt; full, well-trimmed beard and mustache; dark hair styled with just enough gel that it looked like it took some time, but not hours; and chunky Timberland boots. She guessed he was around forty-five. He joined Jade at the table, standing on the opposite side of it.
“And what do we have here?” he asked, gesturing to the box.
Jade said, “I bought these from a consignment store and I was wondering a) if they work, and b) if you can tell me anything about them. This isn’t part of the interview or anything. I just saw that you teach classes on how to use film cameras and thought you could give me some information on them.”
“The woman who ran the consignment store was a little squirrely when we bought them,” Riley added. “I was worried she had sold us defective merchandise.”
Ian peered into the box, his eyes alight, like a kid getting a birthday present six months early. “Well, let’s have a look. May I?” he asked, reaching toward the box, and then pulling his hand back a fraction.
“Please,” Jade said.
He grabbed one and popped open the film door, brought the viewfinder to his eye, tested dials and knobs. “This is a great piece. Definitely not defective. It’s extremely well-maintained. Whoever owned it first took great care of it. It’s a Canon AE-1. This was an extremely popular camera in the ’80s.”
“Extremely popular” meant Jade’s hope of finding a rare camera had just grown more unlikely.
The next camera was given a similar assessment to the first. “This is a Minolta SRT-101. It’s Japanese made, and I believe they first went into production in the late sixties. This is in exceptional shape, too. You really lucked out on this buy. I’m half tempted to make you an offer on these.”
The guy was practically salivating. It made Riley wonder even more who had owned these cameras and what their circumstances had been that resulted in their losing that unit.
Shortly after Ian picked up the last camera, he let out a little, “Oh!”
“What?” Jade asked, getting on her tiptoes to peer across the table.
Ian turned the camera around so the film door faced them. He pointed to a vertical oval-shaped window on the back, something green showing through. “See this? That’s a sliver of a film cartridge. There’s still film in this thing! Sorry for geeking out, but this collection plus a roll of mystery film? I’m very jealous right now.”
Riley and Jade shared a wide-eyed look. There was film still in it? They were so unversed about film cameras that they hadn’t even considered checking if film was in them. Had Carol, a supposed connoisseur of vintage games and entertainment, not noticed the film either?
“Can I check to see if the film is spent or not?” Ian asked, a giddy trill to his tone.
“Yeah, sure,” Jade said, and Riley knew Jade didn’t have the first clue what that meant.
“This knob up here,” Ian said, pointing to a circular piece on top of the camera, “is what you use to rewind the film. If I lift this and turn …” He turned the knob. “There’s no resistance, so that means the film has been fully used.” As he gingerly placed the camera back in the cardboard box, he said, “If you decide to get that developed, you’ll have to let me know what you find.”
Riley could sense how desperately Ian wanted to take all three cameras, the roll of film, and sprint from the room without looking back.
“I will for sure,” Jade said. “I know you’re limited on time, and that this isn’t the most conventional of interviews, but could we discuss my wedding plans for the next fifteen minutes so I can determine if our visions align?”
Ian snapped out of drooling over the cameras and nodded. “Yes, of course.”
As maid of honor, Riley wasn’t sure if she should have been paying better attention to their conversation. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the cameras. She’d been thinking about them all week. Detective Howard had speculated that the woman in the yellow dress could have been the victim after Brynn, and that the killer’s M.O. had changed. But it was just as possible that she had been killed before Shawna.
What had truly been bothering Riley since her conversation with him, though, was his conviction that Shawna Mack hadn’t received the same media treatment as Brynn solely because Brynn was the type of victim people generally had the most sympathy for. The pretty blonde-haired blue-eyed girl next door was the epitome of innocence, and when innocence was violated, people were horrified. It made for a good story. But if the victim were less perfect, whether it was appearance, criminal history, life choices, or profession, that story somehow wasn’t as compelling.
The end result was tragic in either case, no matter what either woman had looked like, or what kind of life she’d led. Neither one deserved what happened to her, and worst still, the person who had done it had never been caught.
But even more upsetting—the thought that had kept Riley awake more nights this week than the ghost had—was that if all three of these women were connected, it meant that the woman in the yellow dress had gotten even less attention than Shawna. The woman was a ghost both literally and figuratively—and there could be others who had slipped even Riley’s notice.
Something poked her side and Riley flinched.
Jade jerked her head toward the door where a few people had started to wander in. The class was starting soon. Riley’s gaze shifted to the box of cameras still on the table.
If only Riley knew when the woman in the yellow dress had died. Was she victim one, three, or some number further down a chain of unknown length? Detective Howard’s words returned. “It’s too bad your ghosts don’t come with time stamps.”
“Woul
d prints from any of these cameras come with dates on them?” Riley suddenly asked.
Ian nodded. “A lot of older models had a feature that could print the date directly on the negative, and you could turn it on or off.” He picked up the camera that still had film inside. “Ah, here. You see these dials? These are used to set the date.”
The key to figuring out the identity of the woman in the yellow dress might be inside that camera, and there might be a time stamp to boot.
Once Ian had placed the camera back in the box, Jade picked the whole thing up and smiled warmly at him. “I really appreciate you taking the time to talk to us. I’ll be in touch really soon, okay? I think you’d be a great fit.”
“Excellent,” he said. “And thanks for letting me see those. That was a real treat.”
Riley offered him an awkward wave, then followed after Jade. She was halfway to the door when she remembered something vitally important.
She hurried back to the table with such speed, Ian took a step back as if he feared she was going to punch him. “Did you really photograph Victor Warren and Rachel Isaacson’s engagement?”
His eyes were alight again. “Yes!” he said and quickly fumbled in his back pocket to pull out his phone. He tapped the screen a few times, swiped a few others, and then turned the phone around to show Riley. Ian was standing right next to Victor.
“You took … a selfie … with Howie,” Riley managed.
“I know I’m a forty-seven-year-old man,” Ian said, pocketing his phone again. “But Tiana’s Circle is hands down the best show on television right now.”
“Thank. You!” Riley held out her hands to him in deep appreciation. “If Jade doesn’t hire you, she is a fool.”
Ian laughed.
Riley couldn’t wait to share this with Rochelle. She’d lose her mind with the appropriate level of excitement that was severely lacking in her best friend. When Riley emerged from the classroom, she found Jade standing beside the same bench they’d loitered in front of earlier.
It was still light out at this hour, but a few of the lampposts lining the parking lot had turned on. A swarm of gnats flew wildly around the lit bulb of the post nearby.
“We have to get this film developed, right?” Jade asked.
“Definitely,” Riley said. “Is that something Brie could do?”
“As much as I love that girl, I think we should get a professional to do it,” Jade said. “Yes, I know, I know, I want her to develop the film from the wedding, but those are memories and this could be, like, smoking-gun evidence in a murder case.”
Riley chewed on her bottom lip, staring at the box Jade still held.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take them home with me. We can both research where to get film developed and then we can touch base in the morning, okay?”
They chatted about random things for a few more minutes, then parted ways, each heading for their own cars. Riley sat in hers without moving for long enough that the cabin lights dimmed to black again. Her mind was awhirl with all the possibilities of what could be on that film.
Her passenger door flew open.
“Shit!” she yelped, hand to her chest, as Jade settled into the passenger seat and closed the door.
“All right,” Jade said, arms crossed. “What’s going on with you?”
“What’s going on with me is that I almost just suffered cardiac arrest,” Riley said.
Jade turned in her seat and arched a single eyebrow.
Ugh. The look.
Riley groaned.
“You’ve been weirdly distracted this whole time. What’s going on in that head of yours?”
Reluctantly, Riley grumbled, “I’ve officially been sucked into another mystery.”
Jade squeaked and clapped. Then she narrowed her eyes and lightly slugged Riley in the arm.
“Ow! Shit! What the hell?”
Jade lips were pursed. “Didn’t we have this discussion six months ago? You don’t get to leave me out of your paranormal sleuthing anymore. Now, explain. Spare no detail.”
So Riley told her about Brynn, Shawna, and the mystery ghost woman, including her own musings from just minutes before.
Jade was quiet for a moment, frowning. “Is that poor woman trapped in my garage? Or, I guess, in my trunk right now?”
“I don’t think so,” Riley said, though she didn’t really know for sure. There was no way to know if traumatic events bound the woman’s energy to that camera, or if she was just able to use that energy as a way to move between planes. Hell, there could be an option C Riley hadn’t even thought of. “But the curiosity of what happened to her is really starting to eat away at me. I wish you could see her … she’s so damn … sad.”
“Anything I can do to help? Any ideas beyond getting the film developed?” Jade asked.
“Nina said I could bring the cameras to one of her séances to see if we can get the woman to talk to us,” Riley said. “I’m totally willing to accept that I’m invested now. I mean, I even agreed to go on another ghost-hunting investigation. But … god, this is going to sound stupid, but I want to give the woman a chance to communicate with me on her own. A séance to pull the woman to me feels invasive. She’s not only sad, but she’s … shy? She doesn’t talk, she just waits. A séance feels like making an introvert go to a party she doesn’t want to go to and then forcing her to make a speech to a bunch of strangers or something. I can’t explain it.”
“It makes sense,” Jade said. “You have a very strong intuition. You always have. If your intuition is telling you a séance is wrong for her, then don’t do it. Do you have any ideas of what would work?”
Riley mulled that over. “Well … I’ve never actually touched the haunted camera. Touching Pete’s beanie, and touching the doorjamb in the Hyssop Room at the ranch both showed me windows into the past. Maybe touching the camera could do that, too?”
“You know I’m totally down for this plan,” Jade said. “Want to head to my place? Jonah should be at the office for another hour or two, so we don’t have to worry about him creeping in with his screwdriver.”
Riley laughed. “Okay. Let’s try it.”
“Yes! My plans for your future are slowly clicking into place.” She let herself out of the car before Riley could say anything else, and then got into her own. Though Riley’s stomach was in knots, she followed Jade back to her house and down her long driveway.
One of the doors on Jade’s garage gave a lurch, and then began to roll up, bright yellow light spilling out onto the pavement. Jade slowly pulled her car inside.
When Riley got out of her car, the burbling fountain in the middle of the yard was the only sound save for the occasional chirp of a bird making its final rounds before settling in for the night. Little solar-powered lanterns on stakes were wedged into the ground at intervals along the short, curved stone path that wove around Jade’s front garden. The lights glowed dully in the early evening darkness, reminiscent of will-o’-the-wisps in a fantasy painting.
Riley jumped when Jade said, “Get in here. We’re on borrowed time.”
She followed Jade to her garage. It was a spacious area which easily fit three cars. To the back of the room was a pool table neither Jade nor Jonah had used in ages, given that several boxes of Jade’s various wedding craft materials were piled on top of it. The entire right side of the garage was lined with floor-to-ceiling shelving. Half of it was filled with Jade’s gardening supplies, gallons of paint, and various tools, while the other half was lined with neatly labeled plastic tubs—Christmas decorations, cleaning supplies, holiday-themed linens. Jade took the box of cameras out of her trunk and set them at Riley’s feet.
As Riley stood in the open space of the garage—the spot that would be filled with Jonah’s car in the next hour or so—she held her breath, sure the woman in the yellow dress would appear at any moment. Riley could swear she felt her there and resisted the urge to look over her shoulder. The woman wasn’t a lurker like Orin, hovering somewhere behind h
er, trying to unnerve her. Orin had been a creepy-as-hell ghost because he’d been creepy-as-hell as a person. What had the woman in the yellow dress been like when she was alive?
Jade told her that her intuition was strong, and Nina had told her to trust her instincts. The more Riley thought about it, the more she was sure she’d been right in her earlier assessment: the woman in the yellow dress was shy. Perhaps the woman’s introvert-leaning personality had latched onto Riley’s, like calling to like.
Jade and Riley stood on either side of the box, both staring down at the cameras lying innocently in their cardboard home.
“Do you usually get messages in words or in images?” Jade asked, voice hushed.
“Both? It depends. Gladys, Walter Palmer’s wife, spoke to me. But the woman haunting Julie’s house showed me what happened to her, rather than speaking,” Riley said. “It’s weird because I really couldn’t tell you if they use speech the way you and I do, or if whatever is happening between me and the spirit gets translated into words so I can understand the message that’s coming through. Does that make any sense?”
“Yeah, it totally does. This is very cool. It’s like my own private episode of Paranormal Playground.”
Riley sat cross-legged before the box and quickly scanned the cameras. Jade followed suit. She assumed the woman in the yellow dress was bound to the one that still housed the film, but she touched a different one instead. She had to work herself up to this.
Jade involuntarily tensed and squeezed one eye shut.
Nothing.
Riley touched the one with the film. The woman in the yellow dress instantly materialized behind Jade. Riley sucked in a breath.
Jade’s green eyes doubled in diameter. “Oh, hell, there’s a ghost behind me, isn’t there?”
Riley nodded, not breaking eye contact with the woman. “Hi,” she croaked out.
The woman nodded once in acknowledgement. So she could hear and understand Riley, at least.
“Can you tell me your name?” Riley asked.
The woman’s forehead creased. The two fluorescent shop lights at the back of the garage flickered twice.
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