Ghost Town

by Jason Hawes

  Amber and Drew looked at each other.

  “What do you mean?” she said.

  “He was one of the people making the documentary about Exeter. Ms. Gilman sent him to take some film of locations where they might shoot later. Scouting, she called it. I don’t know why she even bothered with the Reilly Farm. Nothing much ever happened out there. A few reports of horses neighing in the night even though the farm’s deserted, but that’s about it. I guess a run-down, abandoned farm looks spooky on film. I suppose she’ll have a marketing hook now, though. You know how movie people are. ‘A crew member died under mysterious circumstances during the making of this film.’ ” He sighed. “Well, that’s all the time I’ve got to give you. Thanks for the information, Ms. Lozier, Dr. Pearson. I’ll let you know what happens.”

  The chief stood, but before he could depart, Amber said, “One more thing.”

  He frowned. “Make it fast, please.”

  “There have been three murders so far. Don’t you think it might be a good idea if you canceled the rest of the Dead Days festivities? Just as a precaution?”

  Chief Hoffman looked at her as if she were crazy. “You think this is the movie Jaws, and I’m the chief who should close the beaches because there’s a killer shark in the water? Right now, I don’t have any proof that the murders at the bookstore and the museum are connected. Hell, I don’t have any proof of anything yet. All I’ve got are three dead bodies and a hell of a lot of questions. And that’s not enough to shut down the town’s biggest moneymaking event of the year.”

  The chief gave them a parting nod, then turned and walked out the hotel’s front entrance.

  Amber looked at Drew. “He’s not the chief from Jaws. He’s the mayor who wants to keep the beaches open.”

  “You can’t blame him,” Drew said. “As he said, we don’t have any solid proof. Besides, even if he canceled the parade, a lot of tourists booked hotel rooms for the weekend. They’d be disappointed that the parade wasn’t happening, but they wouldn’t leave town any earlier because of it. They’d just start their parties earlier.”

  “I suppose you’re right. But I don’t like it. Things are going to get worse—a lot worse—if we don’t do something soon.”

  Drew sighed. “I figured you were going to say something like that.”

  “Hey, everyone.”

  As Jenn approached their table, Trevor got up and pulled over a chair for her. Amber thought the gesture was sweet. She had never known Trevor to make a fuss over anyone like this. It was a side of him she had never seen before, and she liked it. He waited until Jenn sat down before retaking his own seat.

  “How are you doing?” Drew asked.

  Jenn shrugged. “As well as can be expected, I suppose. I think I slept some. I’m not sure. If I did, at least I didn’t have any nightmares. None I can remember, anyway.” She attempted a smile and managed a passable imitation of one.

  Her eyes were still half-lidded from sleep, her face pale and puffy. But she seemed awake and alert. Amber thought she was holding up well, considering the circumstances.

  “Can I get you something?” Trevor asked. “Water? Coffee?”

  “Nothing right now, thanks.” Her smile was more genuine this time. “So, what have you four been up to?”

  “Asking questions and comparing answers,” Trevor said.

  “And unfortunately, the answers are just leading to more questions,” Drew said.

  “As usual,” Amber added.

  “Where’s Arthur?” Jenn asked.

  “He was here until a few minutes ago,” Amber said. “He decided to go wander through the Exhibition Hall, talk to some more fans, and sign a few more autographs.”

  “Speaking of Arthur, he said that Erin filmed a segment at your store yesterday,” Trevor said.

  “That’s right.”

  “Did anything unusual happen?” Drew asked.

  “What, you mean unusual as in paranormal? No. She just asked me some questions. What I think about living in Exeter, what sort of customers I get, stuff like that. She filmed me serving some customers, interviewed a few, and shot some footage of Arthur chatting with them. She also shot close-ups of a few book covers—and before you ask, Trevor, I made sure she filmed yours as well as Arthur’s. But that was it.”

  “Was your assistant there at the time?” Connie asked.

  “Yes, Tonya was working then. Why?”

  Connie looked thoughtful, but she didn’t reply.

  “Did you ever experience anything strange in the bookstore?” Amber asked.

  “Given the kind of customers that Forgotten Lore attracts, of course I have,” Jenn said. “But no, not in the way you mean.”

  “How about any previous owners of the building?” Drew said. “Did they ever report any strange occurrences?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.” She thought for a moment. “When I bought the place, the real estate agent told me that it was supposed to have been haunted a long time ago, but a spiritualist had been brought in to ‘cleanse’ the building. I didn’t pay her story any attention. A lot of people around here believe in ghosts. Some of them like the idea that the building they’re about to buy is haunted, especially if they’re running a business and can use that to attract customers, but some want nothing to do with ghosts. I figured the real estate agent had pegged me for the latter type and was just feeding me a line to get me to make an offer on the property.”

  “If her story was true, it sounds as if whoever it was didn’t do a very good job of cleansing,” Trevor said. “At least, based on what happened last night.”

  “Maybe,” Connie said. “Or maybe the building had been cleared of supernatural entities for a time, but new ones moved in. It’s like spraying for termites. If you don’t do it regularly, you risk a new infestation.”

  Amber was getting used to Connie’s unexpected insight into paranormal matters, but she could tell that it still bothered Drew and Trevor. The two shared a quick glance after Connie’s latest observation, and Amber knew it was only a matter of time until the three of them would need to address the matter. She supposed she should have been more bothered than she was about Connie, but the more time she spent in the woman’s presence, the more comfortable she was around her. She wasn’t sure why, but having her be a part of the team felt right, and that was enough for now.

  “Why the focus on Erin’s film?” Jenn asked. “Do you think it has something to do with the murders?”

  Before any of them could answer, Erin said, “It’s not polite to talk about people when they’re not present.”

  The five of them turned to see Erin standing next to their table, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.

  “Did I hear right? Do you really believe that my film pissed off some ghost, and she’s now going on a murderous rampage through town?”

  “Something like that,” Trevor said.

  “That’s ridiculous! We’ve been filming in town all week. We’ve shot footage in a dozen different locations. It’s a coincidence that the murders happened in two of the places where we filmed. That’s all.”

  “Two of the places where you filmed yesterday,” Trevor said.

  “And the murders happened in the same order you filmed in,” Drew said.

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” Erin said.

  “And then there was Alex,” Connie said. “Arthur told us he died last week while scouting a location for you.”

  “That was an accident,” Erin said. “Tragic as it was, there was nothing weird about it. No flying books, no lungs filled with river water.”

  “What about the message that appeared while you were filming at the museum today?” Amber asked. “ ‘Stop.’ ”

  Erin frowned. “Are you suggesting the message was for me? That the ghost or whatever it is wants me to stop making my film?”

  “It’s a theory,” Drew said.

  “Well, it’s a dumb theory,” Erin said. “If some ghost wants me to quit making my movie, the easie
st way would be to kill me, not kill other people in places where I filmed.”

  They all looked at her for a moment.

  “She has a point,” Connie said. “That’s how I’d do it—if I were a murderous ghost, that is.”

  “Look, I understand that you’re all just trying to figure out what’s going on,” Erin said. “You want to prevent more deaths from happening. I get that, and I’m totally with you. But the best way to do that is to keep investigating. My crew and I are scheduled to film at Tri-County Community College this afternoon. It was built on the site where a prison stood for almost fifty years before the flood. And every Dead Days, they have a festival for students. They have ghost tours, a costume contest, a horror-film marathon in the student union, and a haunted maze set up in the library. A lot of prisoners died during the flood. The guards didn’t bother letting them out of their cells, and they drowned. The college is supposed to have more ghost sightings than any other location in town. It’s a perfect place for you guys to do your thing.”

  “And our thing would be . . .” Drew said.

  Erin made a vague gesture. “You know. Checking out the psychic vibes in the area, seeing if you can contact any spirits. That kind of stuff.”

  “Stuff that makes for great footage, you mean,” Amber said.

  “Duh,” Erin said, smiling. “Of course, I want to get cool shots for my movie, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to help you guys figure out what’s going on, too. I’m a firm believer in win-win scenarios.”

  “No murders have occurred at the college,” Connie said. “At least, not yet. It would be quite a coup if you and your crew were present during a killing, wouldn’t it? You could record every gory detail, and your film would go from a minor-league documentary that almost no one would see to a movie notorious the world over. I imagine that would do a great deal to boost your career.”

  Erin glared at Connie, but she didn’t respond. Her silence was response enough.

  Then she said, “Look, I’m going to track down Arthur, and then my crew and I are heading over to the college, with or without you. You can’t stop me. What are you going to do? Call the chief and tell him that you’re worried I’m going to stir up a bunch of murderous spooks? He’ll just hang up on you. Since I’m going to do this, you might as well come along. If something bad does happen, at least you’ll be there to try to deal with it.”

  “And you’ll be there to film it all,” Amber said.

  Erin grinned. “Like I said, I believe in win-win scenarios.”

  Mitch had parked his Impala close enough to the hotel entrance so he could keep an eye on it but not so close that he would be easily spotted. There was a dull throbbing at the base of his skull, and although he tried to ignore it, it was really starting to bug him. Maybe his headache was from not getting much sleep last night and sitting upright in his car when he had slept. Maybe it was because he still hadn’t had anything to eat.

  Maybe it’s because you let a damned ghost-bitch mess with your head, his father’s voice said.

  Mitch paid his father’s voice no mind. It wasn’t real. More to the point, she didn’t like it when he listened to his father’s voice. He didn’t want to be punished again. Until today, he had thought his father’s punishments would be the worst he would ever experience. He had been wrong.

  He was watching the hotel entrance when Amber walked out. Drew was with her, as was that chunky guy, the sexy babe, the old guy, the black chick, and three other people he didn’t recognize. But from the equipment they carried, he guessed they were the black chick’s film crew. The black chick and the old guy got into a VW Bug, the film crew climbed into a van, and Amber and the others got into a Prius. What a pussy car, he thought.

  He started his Impala.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Getting ready to follow them.”

  “Turn it off.”

  Despite what she had done to him earlier, he hesitated, his hand still on the key. “But Amber—”

  She reached over and placed her hand over his. Cold so intense it burned sank into his flesh and penetrated his bones. He gritted his teeth and turned off the engine. She kept her hand where it was a few seconds longer before removing it. Mitch’s hand still burned, and he massaged it with his other one, trying to work feeling back into it.

  “You’ll get your chance at Amber, don’t worry. But right now, there’s something else I need you to do.”

  The Dark Lady gave Mitch his instructions, and he listened very carefully.

  “Thank you. Enjoy the rest of the conference.”

  Jenn handed the book—a tome relating “true” accounts of vampirism throughout history—to a teenage girl wearing a black gown, a long black wig, black lipstick, and black false nails. The girl smiled as she took the book and left with her boyfriend, a skinny kid with a peach-fuzz goatee who wore a Ramones T-shirt and looked bored as hell. Jenn envied them. She would give anything to be wandering through the Exhibition Hall, talking, laughing, and checking out the various booths, with her biggest problem being how much money she could afford to spend buying useless junk.

  The day before, her life had been chugging along just fine. The store had been busier than usual thanks to the Dead Days crowd, and Tonya had been manning the fort while she had been there at the hotel, helping to get the Exhibition Hall ready to open. She had gone back to the store in the early afternoon to answer some questions on-camera for Erin, which had been a nice break in the routine, but otherwise it had been business as usual. She had been looking forward to seeing Trevor again, and she had been curious to meet Drew and Amber, especially after reading about them in Trevor’s new book. And had she been hoping to see if there were any sparks still left between them? Maybe.

  But then Tonya had died, followed by those two poor people in the museum. Oh, and don’t forget that crew member of Erin’s who had died the week before. That made a grand total of four people dead . . . so far.

  But as bad as that was, what freaked her out the most was seeing the word Stop appear as if by magic, etched in the surface of the museum room over and over, as if carved by dozens of unseen hands. Until that moment, the supernatural had been nothing more to her than a pastime, a game of what-if to play in her imagination. She read nonfiction books on the paranormal the same way other people read novels. She enjoyed imagining that the stories were true while she read them, but once she put the book down, the game was over.

  But that afternoon, she had lived one of those stories. Hell, she was still living it. And as much as she wanted to believe that it had been some kind of elaborate Dead Days prank, she knew it wasn’t. The supernatural was real. And that meant the world wasn’t the way she thought it was. If something like what she had seen in the museum could happen, then anything could happen. She wasn’t naïve. She knew the world wasn’t a safe place. But until that day, she hadn’t known just how unsafe it was. It was bad enough that you had to protect yourself from other human beings who might hurt you, whether on purpose or by accident, and of course, there was always the possibility of death from injury or disease. But now she knew that there were worse things in the world than all that—much worse—and there was nothing you could do to guard against them. If a supernatural force could carve a word into wood, what could stop it from boring a hole through your heart or brain, killing you instantly? You would drop dead without ever knowing what hit you. And it could happen at any moment, without warning.

  When Trevor and the others had decided to accompany Erin to the college, Jenn had begged off, claiming that she would rather remain at the hotel and sell books at the Forgotten Lore booth, as she had originally planned to do that day. She had said it would be comforting to do something normal, that it would help to take her mind off Tonya’s death. At first, Trevor had been reluctant to let her stay, but Drew had said it was a good idea, and Trevor had relented. He had offered to stay with her, but she had insisted that he go with the others. If something . . . bad . . . happened at the
college, his friends would need him. Besides, how could she pretend that things were normal if he was hanging around? She could tell that her last excuse—although true enough—had hurt his feelings a bit, but he had said he understood and left, not before promising that he would call to check on her and making her promise to call him if she needed anything.

  She had given him a quick kiss to reassure him that everything was OK, and he had been so surprised that he had departed without further argument. She smiled. Trevor liked to talk, but she had always known how to shut him up.

  But the real reason she hadn’t gone with them to the college was simple. She was afraid.

  She didn’t think she could take witnessing another paranormal event. It felt as if she was barely keeping it together as it was. If anything else happened, she feared she might lose it altogether. She had called a cousin of hers who lived in Evansville. Noelle was going to come get her the next day and take her away from Exeter. She planned to stay with Noelle while she adjusted to everything that had happened. She thought she might even sell the bookstore and move out of Exeter for good. After this weekend, the idea of continuing to live in the “Most Haunted Town in America” no longer appealed.

  She pulled herself out of her dark thoughts when a man approached her booth. She was grateful to have another customer to distract her, and she flashed him a welcoming smile.

  “Looking for anything in particular?” she asked.

  The man stared at her with eyes as flat and dead as a doll’s.

  “As a matter of fact, I am,” he said, his voice toneless. Then he slowly smiled, and a dark glint came into his gaze. “My name’s Mitch. And I’m looking for you.”

  ELEVEN

  Drew noted how Amber kept glancing around as they walked.

  “Keeping an eye out for Mitch?” he asked.