The sudden burst of music in the silence of her dorm room startled Trixie Belden enough that she visibly flinched. She scrambled to grab her phone and silence it before it woke her sleeping roommate. She knew without looking who the caller was. She’d long ago designated a ring tone just for him that was different from the others in her contacts list. “Dan,” she hissed softly. “Give me a minute and I’ll call you back.” She disconnected without waiting for his answer. After shoving her feet into her favorite loafers, she clicked off her desk lamp, and let herself quietly out the door.

The commons room was empty. At five ‘til midnight, the residents of Thomas Hall were generally either sleeping (the more studious ones) or out at one of the seemingly endless frat parties (those less concerned with things like GPAs and essay papers). Trixie threw herself down on one of the lumpy chairs and pressed a few keys on her phone, calling back the last number to dial in.

Dan answered on the first ring. “Hey, Trix.”

“Hey, yourself,” she replied. “You don’t sound like you’re having the kind of emergency that would warrant a call this late.”

“It’s not an emergency, precisely, but I do need to talk to you. I need your help.”

Trixie groaned. “Not again,” she muttered. “What did you do this time? Forget her name? Tell her you think her roommate’s totally hot? Ditch her for a riveting game of beer pong? Dan, how many times do I have to tell you I’m not here to bail you out of your girl troubles?”

“Ouch! Thanks a lot, Freckles! I’m actually calling for something completely unrelated to my social life.”

“I’m all agog, then. Lay it on me.”

“What are you doing this weekend?”

“Studying for mid-terms. Why…?”

“Have you ever heard of Raven’s Hollow?”

“That vacation tourist town up north that went from boom to bust decades ago?”

“Yeah. Did you know there’s an old hotel there that’s supposed to be haunted?”

Chuckling, Trixie slumped further down in her seat. “Aren’t pretty much all old hotels in the northeast supposed to be haunted?”

“Well, this one’s about to become the latest featured property on True Hauntings in America. The Raven’s Hollow Hotel closed in the late 1970s. The owners were never able to sell, and so it’s sat there, rotting away. Now the folks behind the show want to film an episode about it.”

“Wow, Dan. I can’t begin to tell you how fascinating this all is.”

“Just hear me out. The producers have come up with a gimmick. They’ve invited one of my professors to choose a few students to be a part of the episode. Dr. VanHuis is a psychologist who published a book a few years ago about susceptibility. He wrote all about how easy it is to convince people they’ve seen and heard things that aren’t really there. The producers plan to have Dr. VanHuis and his students, plus a few of the so-called ‘true believers,’ spend the weekend at the hotel. They claim they want to prove the place really is haunted, but the idea is to have two teams investigating from different perspectives. The first will be made up of believers, led by the show’s host, and the other will be the skeptics, led by Dr. VanHuis. Basically, they want to see if they can turn the skeptics into believers.”

“And I take it you’re one of the students your professor invited along?”

“Yes. But he’d like you to be there, too.”

“Me?” Trixie said in no small amount of surprise. “How the heck does he even know who I am and why would he want me along?”

“He knows who you are because I wrote my first paper about you,” Dan began.

“You did what?” Trixie broke in, her tone registering her shock.

“It was all good,” he assured her. “Promise. I’ll email you a copy so you can see for yourself. Meanwhile, Dr. VanHuis is starting to suspect there might be some kind of genuine fraud involved in this whole project. I know it’s totally last minute, but he asked me to see if you could come along and lend us your investigative talents. Totally undercover. Not even the other students will know why you’re really there. You won’t be looking to prove or disprove the existence of ghosts in the hotel, but rather, find out if the television show is up to anything hinky.”

“Uh, huh. And so how would we be explaining my presence, seeing as I don’t even go to your school?”

There was a slight pause before Dan answered. “We were thinking of introducing you around as my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend. Not say… sister. Or cousin.”

“Well, it’s not like we really look anything alike.”

“So? I don’t look anything like Brian and he is my brother.”

“Trix, if it bothers you that much, yeah, we’ll just tell people you’re my cousin.”

There was a slightly hurt note in his voice that he wasn’t able to entirely disguise. Trixie bit back a sigh. “No,” she said. “Girlfriend is fine.”

“Does that mean you’ll come?” Dan asked uncertainly.

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“Great! Thanks! We’re leaving the campus at ten tomorrow morning in a van Dr. VanHuis rented. We plan to stop for lunch around eleven thirty and then get there somewhere around one o’clock. We’ll spend Friday and Saturday night at the hotel and then come home on Sunday.”

“That’s not actually going to work for me. For me to be there by then, I’d have to leave here no later than eight, and I have a class in the morning that I cannot miss. It’s public speaking and I’ll get a zero on my persuasive speech if I ditch. Can I meet you at Raven’s Hollow in the afternoon?”

“You don’t mind driving all the way up there by yourself? It’s at least a four hour drive from where you are.”

“I’m a big girl, Danny. I can handle it.”

“Okay,” he agreed slowly. “But do me a favor. All right? Call me when you’re leaving and then check in with me at least once or twice while you’re on the road.”

Trixie rolled her eyes and shook her head, though Dan couldn’t see either gesture. “What part of ‘big girl’ is confusing you?”

“The part that I’m more than willing to let you label male chauvinist and any other name you want to toss at me. Look, if nothing else, as my girlfriend, it would only be natural for you to call me. Consider it the first step toward establishing your cover.”

After promising to phone him as requested, Trixie ended the call and returned to her dorm room. She found it hard to concentrate on her studies. Finally, in exasperation, she opened a search engine on her laptop and typed in “Raven’s Hollow Hotel.”

It was another two and a half hours before she finally set aside her work and crawled into bed.

The following morning, she somehow made it through her presentation in speech class, though her mind was only half on the task at hand. She had no idea what grade she would get, but she couldn’t quite muster up enough emotion to care. Instead, her thoughts were constantly shifting to Raven’s Hollow.

At shortly after eleven, she climbed into her old Camry and set off. She’d packed a cooler with a few sodas and a turkey sandwich. Her plan was to only stop for a quick restroom break, if needed. She hit some lunch traffic as she passed through town, but soon she was on the open road and on her way.

It was a beautiful, early fall day, with a cloudless, brilliant blue sky overhead and a crisp, clean coolness to the air. Trixie left her windows cracked and radio blaring, enjoying the unexpected road trip, finding it hard to get in the frame of mind for a few days of ghost busting. This seemed like the perfect weekend for picnics and football, not spending the night in a supposedly haunted hotel.

Raven’s Hollow was a town in decline. Once a hot spot for vacationing high society, it had fallen out of favor with the idle upper class and lost its primary source of income. Now only a small local population remained, struggling to make ends meet. As she drove slowly down the main drag, she saw an almost equal number of closed and empty store fronts as establishments still in business. An elderly man exited a small grocery store and watched her closely as she passed. She got the distinct feeling she wasn’t welcomed, and she wondered what the locals thought about True Hauntings coming to their town.

It was a little after five o’clock when Trixie turned off a winding rural road and onto the long drive that led up to the Raven’s Hollow Hotel. The sky was rapidly darkening and already she could see stars twinkling in the purple twilight. The temperature had dropped, reminding her that winter was only a few short months away.

She rounded a bend, clearing a small copse of trees overrun by tangled undergrowth, and got her first look at the hotel. The pictures she’d studied online didn’t quite do it justice, she thought. The foreboding, menacing structure rose up on a low hill, dominating its surroundings, heavy, oppressive, and uninviting. It was hard to imagine it had ever been the sparkling jewel of the county. A place to see and be seen. She followed the drive around to the parking lot. The pavement was cracked and tall weeds had sprouted, a testament to the resilience of Mother Nature where even in a sea of concrete, life sprung up. She pulled up beside two cargo vans and parked.

She stared up through her windshield at the abandoned hotel's grey stone facade. Good grief, she thought. All that's missing at this point is a raging storm and howling wolves and the setting would be complete. She blinked, turning her head sharply. There was something in a second story window… a flash of light just on the edge of her peripheral vision. But when she leaned forward and peered up more intently, there was nothing but dark glass dimly reflecting the dying rays of the setting sun. The light, or whatever it had been, was gone.

She was pulling her overnight bag from her trunk when she heard Dan call her name.

He jogged across the lot and greeted her with a quick hug. “You’re late,” he said in concern. “Is everything all right?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “Just like I told you on the phone. All three times. I could do with something to eat, though. The only café I could find in town apparently closes by three in the afternoon. They only do breakfast and lunch.”

“In that case, you aren’t late. You’re just in time. Not everyone has arrived yet, but for those of us who have, they’re about to serve dinner.”

As they approached the main entrance, Dan slowed. “Listen, since you’re my girlfriend this weekend, we’re sharing a room.”

“That’s fine.”

“And a bed.”

She regarded him with one raised brow.

“They gave us a room with one king and I couldn’t really think of a good reason to ask for one with two doubles.”

“Well, I trust you to keep your hands to yourself and not steal the sheets, but word to the wise? You probably never want to mention this to Brian or Mart.”

Dan winced. “Yeah.”

The hotel lobby was a spacious area with a two-story ceiling. An enormous chandelier hung over the center of the room and there were small seating arrangements scattered about, originally designed, Trixie was sure, to encourage intimate conversations. A long folding table was set up in front of the check-in desk, with several laptops, two computers, and various other bits and pieces of equipment stacked upon it. She supposed this all belonged to the True Hauntings film crew. “This is much… cleaner than I was expecting for a hotel that’s been closed down for decades,” she said thoughtfully.

Dan looked around and nodded. “True Hauntings sent people up here to clean up the main areas and the rooms we’ll be sleeping in. They also had an engineer come in and assess the place for safety issues. And we’ve been assured as many rats as possible were captured and removed.”

“Yeesh. Good to know.”

Dan led her through the lobby, toward the back. “Few things. Number one. The elevators were deemed too risky, so we’ll have to rely on the stairs. Also? The air and heating system’s not working. It might get chilly overnight, but they’ve given us electric blankets. The really good news is we have brand new pillows and mattresses.”

“Seriously? For a two night stay?”

“According to the producer, the old mattresses were rotting and bug infested.”

They started up a wide, curving staircase. Trixie could tell someone had taken the time to dust and polish the wooden banister, but up close it was easy to see this had been a job only done half-heartedly.

“We’re up one floor,” Dan told her. “All of the rooms being used are in the east wing. We’ll put up your stuff and then get down to the dining room for dinner.”

As he led her down the second floor hallway, Trixie studied the surroundings carefully. High on one wall, there was a white, painted grill covering an air vent. The slats crisscrossed over one another, and behind them she could see the metal siding of the vent, dimly reflecting a faint light. She stopped and stared up at it for a moment, frowning.

“Something wrong?” Dan asked.

“Huh? Oh. No. I’m, uh… don’t mind me. Just got lost in thought there for a second.” She offered him a smile and started walking again. They passed several rooms before Dan turned to the door marked 211. He used a shiny silver key to unlock it.

“That looks new,” Trixie said. “They put in new locks for us, too?”

“Had to. It wasn’t like they were going to find the old keys anywhere. And they did give us two of them, so we’ll each have one, but, Trix, if at all possible, I’d like us to stick together, okay?”

Trixie bit back a grin. “Don’t worry, Danny,” she said with mock seriousness. “I’ll save you from the big, mean ghosties.”

“Cute. Very cute.”

Their room was larger than she’d expected. While the king-sized bed took up a significant amount of space, there was still plenty of room for a writing desk, clothing armoire, and chaise lounge without making things feel cramped and uncomfortable.

“We have a private bath through here,” Dan said. “They’ve brought in portable heaters, but that may not keep us from freezing through a shower. I got the impression we’d be lucky if we got any hot water.”

“Oh, joy.” Trixie stepped over to the writing desk and grabbed the small wooden chair next to it. She dragged it across the room and pushed it up against the wall.

“Freckles? You feel like doing a bit of redecorating?”

Chuckling, she climbed up on the chair. “Me? Are you kidding?” She reached up and grabbed the small metal tab on the edge of the air vent cover, pulling hard to slide it down.

“You don’t need to close the vent,” Dan said. “I told you. The central system’s not even working.”

“I know.” She clambered back down off the chair and returned it to its original spot. “Humor me. I get that the crew did their best about the rats, but I’m sure this place is crawling with roaches, too. No pun intended. They maybe could still get through that, but I’m hoping not, okay? Play along for my peace of mind.”

“All right. But Dr. VanHuis did say something about the place getting fumigated two weeks ago when the workers first got here to clean up.”

“Then we probably have nothing to worry about, eh?”

They returned to the first floor. As they descended the final steps of the grand staircase, they met two men approaching from the hotel’s ballroom.

“Ah, Dan. This lovely young lady must be your girlfriend,” the older one said, smiling warmly.

Dan grabbed Trixie’s hand and grinned. “Yes, sir. Trixie, this is my professor, Dr. VanHuis. And this is Damon Myers, host of True Hauntings. Gentlemen, Trixie Belden.”

Trixie shook the professor’s hand first, noting that he looked so much like a stereotypical academic, down to the tweed coat and bow tie, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was deliberately playing up the role. Damon Myers, on the other hand, was all Hollywood show. Fake tan. Blinding white teeth. Smile that didn’t quite reach his dark brown eyes. It was obvious he was assessing her as much as she was him.

“We’re on our way to have some supper,” Dr. VanHuis said. “After that, we’ll get down to business.”

“And Trixie will need to fill out the same forms and disclaimers you’ve already turned in,” Damon added. “We want to keep things perfectly legal.”

“He means he needs your signature guaranteeing you won’t sue the production company if the ghosts get you,” Dan told her. “Or, you know, if you come out looking like a total freak in the final episode cut.”

Damon laughed, but Trixie could see he wasn’t terribly amused.

The hotel dining room contained about two dozen round tables and a long sideboard for serving. A series of French windows ran along the far side, leading out to a back patio that stretched from east to west wing.

Ten or so people were already sitting at the tables closest to the sideboard, eating and talking quietly. A balding, portly man in an expensive sport coat rose from his seat and crossed to them, his eyes on Trixie the entire time.

Dr. VanHuis cleared his throat and stepped forward slightly. “Trixie, allow me to introduce you to Barry Kohn. He’s one of the producers for the show and he’s decided to join us for our… experiment. Barry, this is Trixie Belden.”

Barry grabbed Trixie’s hand in a firm shake. “I can tell just by looking at you. The camera loves you. We’ll have to work to make sure you don’t upstage the stars of our show!” He chortled at his own joke, and Trixie forced a smile. For a moment, she thought he was referring to Damon Myers and his team of followers, but then he spoke again. “Can’t be making the spirits angry by stealing their spotlight, eh? Still, we certainly aren’t above featuring a pretty girl to generate more interest from our male fans!”

“You might want to ease up there,” Dr. VanHuis said dryly. “Or you run the risk of making the boyfriend angry instead.”

Barry’s gaze shifted from Trixie to Dan. “Ah. You’ve already made claims on the girl, Dan? That’s good. Really good. Audiences adore lovers.” He stepped back and gestured expansively to the room at large. “Come. Let’s introduce Trixie to the others. We’re still expecting several more people to turn up over the course of the evening, so we’ll have to do another round of introductions later, but we can start now with the folks who are already here.”

As the producer took her from table to table, Trixie felt a bit like a doll on display. She met the show’s cameraman and production assistant, a young man who was serving as carpenter and handyman, and a woman employed as technician and computer support. She was then introduced to Peggy and Carl, a couple in their early twenties who had won the chance to be on the show through a contest for fans. Barry Kohn seemed especially pleased with them. He turned to smile broadly at Trixie. “This is working out beautifully. We have Carl and Peggy here as part of Damon’s True Believers and you and Dan on our good professor’s team of skeptics. Two hot young couples to root for. We’ll have to see which one is on the right side of things!” He clapped his hands gleefully and suddenly Trixie wanted very much to laugh.

That urge was stifled almost immediately as a loud shout rang out. Before anyone could react, a middle-aged man in a white jacket and hat burst into the dining room through a swinging door Trixie presumed led to the kitchen.

“I’m out of here!” he cried. “I don’t care how much you’re paying me!”

Barry held up his hands. “Now, Jason,” he began, but got no further.

“A ghost! I saw it! Floating there right next to the stove! I want no part of this!” He tore off his hat and glared around the room. “I suggest you all get out. Before it’s too late!”

Barry whirled toward his cameraman. “What are you waiting for? Get in there and see if you can get any footage!”

Trixie watched silently as several people sprang into action at once. Dan took a few steps, intending to go to the kitchen, before stopping when he realized she wasn’t following him. “Trix?”

She glanced at him before looking back at the chef. He was already passing through the main entrance to the dining room and she assumed he would be leaving the hotel through the front doors. “What kind of person gets hired to work on the set of something called True Hauntings in America, then acts like he can’t believe he’s seen a ghost?”

“Maybe he was a skeptic, but whatever he saw totally changed his mind?” Dan hazarded with a shrug. “Who knows? Don’t you want to see what’s in the kitchen, though?”

“By now? I’m betting nothing. If there was anything at all. I’m going to get something to eat. You can go ahead, though. I’ll be fine.”

Dan huffed out a breath and shook his head. “Nah. I’ll stay with you.”

They found several covered trays on the sideboard, offering up thinly sliced ham and roast beef, creamed carrots, whipped potatoes, buttered peas, and two kinds of rolls. To the side, two pitchers of water were set, along with cans of soda in a big bucket of ice. They loaded plates and chose a table. Shortly after, Dr. VanHuis joined them, along with a young woman with close-cropped, bleached hair and a slender young man in baggy jeans and a sweatshirt. Trixie guessed them to both be in their early twenties. Dr. VanHuis introduced them as JoAnne Stillwell, a graduate student and his teacher’s assistant, and Jeremy Nguyen, another student from one of his introductory psychology courses.

“We’re a bit outnumbered,” the professor said as he pulled out a chair and sat down. “We’re all there is to represent the skeptics. From what I understand, we’re still expecting a few more people to show up for the True Believers. Speaking of, Damon wants us to come up with a team name.”

“Ugh,” Dan grunted. “Do we have to? It’s so… Twilight.”

Dr. VanHuis laughed at Dan’s disgusted expression. “I heartily agree,” he said. “What say we practice a bit of civil disobedience and refuse to be identified? We’ll be a team with no name at all.”

“Works for me!” Jeremy exclaimed. “The less we play along with these loons, the better.”

They were about halfway through their meal when the television crew returned.

“Unfortunately, we were unable to capture any visuals of haunting spirits in the kitchen,” Barry Kohn announced to the room at large. “But there were signs of paranormal disturbances.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jeremy sniggered quietly. “Like what? Green slime? Ectoplasm dripping off the walls?”

“While we’re gathered here,” Barry continued, giving no indication of whether he heard Jeremy or not, “let me explain a few ground rules. Number one. No one is to go above the third floor under any circumstances. This is a matter of safety. We did not have the structural engineer survey anything but the bottom three floors. If anyone is caught anywhere else, he or she will be escorted from the premises immediately. Number two. Periodically, Damon may stop any of you for brief interviews. These are informal moments where he’ll be asking you about any supernatural activities you may have heard or witnessed, and what your reactions are to them. We want to capture the atmosphere and how you’re all feeling, so that our viewers can feel like they’re part of the show, too, seeing things through your eyes. We’ll be collecting a lot of raw footage that’s streamed back to our studios in California where our editors can work on it.”

He paused for a moment, then offered them a weak smile. “Also? As you may have gathered, we’ve lost the chef we hired for the weekend. Instead of trying to get someone else up here on such short notice, we’re going to see if we can simply handle things on our own. I think we could –“

There was a thunderous crash from the direction of the lobby. “What the hell was that?” someone shouted.

Barry waved to the cameraman and dashed from the room. The others followed.

“Oh, whoa!” Jeremy muttered. “Good thing no one was under that!”

The enormous chandelier had fallen from the ceiling. It was now nothing more than shattered glass and twisted metal.

“I think the spirits are already angry with us!” Damon said loudly. “This was a warning.”

Dan narrowed his eyes as he studied the wreckage. “Look at the wire ends,” he whispered to Trixie. “Is it just me, or do they look like they were cut? I don’t know about ghosts, but I’m pretty sure this was no accident.”

Trixie frowned thoughtfully. She lifted her gaze up to the gaping hole in the ceiling two stories above as Dan walked toward the fallen light fixture, determined to inspect it up close.

“No! Wait!” Trixie suddenly shouted.

“Huh?” Dan spun on his heel to look back at her just as a large piece of plaster fell from above, bringing a shower of dust with it. He managed to dodge out of the way and avoid the falling chunk of ceiling, but he was coated with the fine white powder that accompanied it. He coughed hard as he accidentally breathed some of it in, and Trixie hurried to his side.

“Are you all right?” she demanded.

He coughed again, but nodded. “I’m not hurt,” he assured her.

“Well, you’re very lucky,” Dr. VanHuis said, glowering at Barry. “He could have been seriously injured. I thought you had this place checked for safety concerns?”

“We did,” Barry said stiffly. “But there’s always some risks involved when you’re dealing with the spirit world. If you read your disclaimer forms, you know we offer ample warnings about the potential dangers of being on our show.”

“Well, I haven’t read them yet,” Trixie said pointedly. “Maybe someone wants to get me copies to sign? And meanwhile, I’m sure Dan would like to go back to our room and get himself cleaned up.”

“Sure. Sure,” Barry responded quickly. “Absolutely.” He snapped his fingers at the production assistant. “Where are those forms?”

As the assistant crossed to the computer table and picked up a file folder, Barry cleared his throat. “We’re still waiting on a few last minute arrivals, but I suggest we get started.” He pulled an envelope from his pocket. “I’m about to hand each of you a card. It lists a specific floor and section of the hotel. We want you to explore your area. You’re looking for any signs of ghostly activity. If you don’t see anything right away, don’t get discouraged. Find a place to sit and watch. Something may manifest. We’ll meet down here in the lobby at ten o’clock to share our findings. While you’re out exploring, we’ll clean up this mess.”

Trixie accepted both the forms to sign and a card from Barry which read, “Second floor. West wing. Area between rooms 220 and 240.” She tucked it into her pocket. Dan’s was for the area covering rooms 120 to 140 in the same wing.

“Trixie and I will cover our assigned areas,” Dan told the producer, “but we’ll be working together.” His hard tone dared the older man to disagree.

“Ah, yes. Yes. Of course. Those of you who came here as couples can work together.” The smile he offered as he spoke was patently false.

“C’mon, Trix,” Dan muttered. “I’m going to go wash up and then we’ll get to work.”

They trudged back to their room, Dan trailing dust the entire way. Trixie unlocked their door and stepped inside. “I think you were right,” she told him. “I don’t believe that was an accident any more than you do.”

Dan groaned as he saw himself in the long mirror hanging next to the armoire. “I don’t care if the water is ice cold,” he said. “I have to take a shower. I’ll do my best to be quick about it.” He walked to his bags and dug around for a change of clothing.

“Oh!” Trixie exclaimed suddenly. “Um. Hang on. Before you do that…”

“Yeah?”

“I need to use the restroom. Sorry. Just give me a moment!” She hurried into the bathroom and closed the door before he could say anything else. He was standing in the middle of the room when she stepped back out a few minutes later. “Okay. All yours now.”

Shaking his head, he slipped by her. “Sometimes? I think Mart might be right about you,” he told her. “You may genuinely be unbalanced.”

“You say this like it’s a bad thing,” she deadpanned.

Snorting, Dan walked into the bathroom and firmly closed the door behind him.

Trixie sat on the edge of the chaise lounge and waited until she heard the water running. She stood and turned a slow circle, studying the walls intently. Only one of them ran the full length of the room with no interruptions for either a door or windows. And unlike the others, it was not covered in a faded, floral print paper, but rather dark wood paneling that ran floor to ceiling. She stepped to one side of the bed and ran her hand up and down the panels. Frowning, she moved to the other side of the bed and repeated her actions.

Although it was nearly impossible to discern by sight alone, she felt the slight recession of a single panel close to the corner. She took a deep breath and pressed her palm hard against it. There was a click, and an entire section of the wall swung outward. A dark passageway opened up beyond. Trixie retrieved her flashlight from her backpack and stepped through the secret door.

The passage went straight for many feet, and Trixie knew she was moving along parallel to the second floor hallway. She passed a few more doors, only visible by the faint light that seeped in through the narrow cracks. Sharp voices caught her attention, and she paused, listening. She couldn’t make out all the words, but she could identify both speakers. Barry Kohn and Damon Myers were discussing something about “catching the young couples” in amorous acts as a way to pull in more viewers. She grimaced as she filed that information away, and kept moving along, carefully stepping over and around various obstacles, such as an old rat trap with the dried carcass of an unfortunate rodent. At one point, she discovered a single ice skate. It was so out of place, she struggled to come up with a likely explanation for its presence. She bent down and picked it up, turning it thoughtfully over in her hand. There wasn’t anything particularly remarkable about it, but as she set it back on the floor, it grazed a ceramic tile she hadn’t noticed in the shadows, making a distinctive sound. She snorted softly and made sure to arrange the skate in the same position she’d found it in before continuing on her way.

Eventually, she came to a turn. She stopped again, and waited. Only silence greeted her. Relatively sure she wasn’t about to encounter anyone or anything she didn’t want to, she stepped around the corner. The passageway stretched far beyond the reach of her light. She followed it for a while, then decided she’d seen enough. She debated returning the way she’d come, but then opted instead to see if she could find another way out and determine how far she’d walked through the hotel. She aimed her flashlight at the unfinished wall on her right, walking along slowly until she found another exit panel. She pushed at it, but it remained firmly closed. After some thought, she reached up and ran her fingers along the upper portion of the panel and smiled as she found what she was seeking. Just as she was about to press the small button to release the catch, she realized she could hear the faint notes of an old, popular song. She hesitated for a moment, listening, then popped the door open and stepped out into the dimly lit hallway.

I'll make you happy, baby, just wait and see
For every kiss you give me, I'll give you three
Oh, since the day I saw you, I have been waiting for you
You know I will adore you 'til eternity

She stumbled to an abrupt halt, face-to-face with a woman paused in mid-step. They stared at one another, wide-eyed, obviously equally startled by the other’s presence. Trixie swallowed hard and drew in a deep breath. “Okay. Wow. Sorry. You definitely caught me off guard,” she said slowly, willing her heart rate to slow. “And I didn’t mean to frighten you, too, suddenly jumping out of the wall like that.” She looked to her left. “I heard the music…”

“Oh!” the woman said faintly. “Yes. It’s my husband’s favorite song. I’m afraid he tends to play it over and over. Especially when he’s feeling nervous or anxious.”

“I can understand that,” Trixie murmured with a short nod. “I’m guessing just about everybody in the hotel is on edge. And, that’s kinda a strange song for a man’s favorite. Just sayin’.”

“I know. But he loves it, so what can you do? He says it always makes him think of me.” She paused and looked at Trixie curiously. “These teams they’ve organized. Which one are you on?”

“Officially? I’m on the Team with No Name. The skeptics and non-believers. But between you and me? I’m not real hardline about it.”

The woman smiled wryly. “You don’t seem like the kind of person who would be.”

“It would be more accurate to say I’m not on any team at all,” Trixie explained. “I just want the truth.”

“Then we have something in common. I’m so glad to meet you. I’m really not sure how I feel about the others…”

“I know, right?” Trixie exclaimed. “Especially that producer! He kinda makes your skin crawl every time he looks at you. But my fri – boyfriend? Dan? He’s cool. I’m Trixie, by the way.”

“Woody.”

At Trixie’s amused look, Woody chuckled. “Yes. It’s a nickname. When I was a little girl, my friends and I all decided to give each other masculine nicknames. I think it was some kind of attempt to sound independent and strong or something. My best friend for years went by the name Steve. It stuck. No one ever called either of us by our given names.”

“I have a good friend like that. Her real name is Madeleine, but I don’t know how many people even know it. She goes by Honey and that’s all anyone ever calls her. And of course there’s my nickname. Trixie’s a diminutive of Beatrix. Trixie is okay, but if anyone tries to call me ‘Beatrix,’ I won’t even answer.”

“Beatrix is certainly old-fashioned these days. You don’t hear it very often any more. Is it some kind of traditional family name?”

A gut-wrenching scream cut off Trixie’s reply. Woody gasped, whirling about. She peered down the hallway for a moment, then turned back. “I – I think I’m going to go see what my husband’s doing,” she said a little breathlessly.

“I’m going to keep poking around,” Trixie muttered. “I guess Slasher-Film-Worthy scream is supposed to count as something to report at the next group meeting.”

As Woody hurried on her way, Trixie turned in the opposite direction. She was in a hallway that didn’t look like it had received quite as much attention as the other areas she’d already explored. There was a layer of dust on the antique sideboard and a musty smell in the air. The evenly spaced sconces on each side of the hall were lit, but no one had bothered to clean the glass shades. She clicked off her flashlight to conserve the batteries and walked quietly along, listening carefully. The music cut off, and she wondered if Woody had asked her husband to either turn it down or turn it off.

She came to the end of the hallway and stopped at a tall, mullioned window that overlooked the back lawn. The full moon hung low in the starlit sky, casting a hazy light that illuminated the still and silent land below. The trees that marched along on the right of the extended wing left long, weirdly twisted shadows across the grass. A sudden blast of cold air struck her. Trixie shivered but remained where she was, controlling her breathing and listening. She heard first a low groan. This was followed by a desperate screech, and finally a slow, steady scratching. Despite herself, she could feel a thread of nervous apprehension pushing at her consciousness.

Her cell phone buzzed with a text message and Trixie yelped. “Geeze!” she grumbled. She was starting to let this creepy place get to her. She fished the phone from her back pocket.

The text was from Dan.

Where the hell RU?

She cringed as she read it. She’d known he wouldn’t be happy when he got out of the shower and found her missing, but she still wasn’t looking forward to any lecture he might launch at her. She quickly typed out a response. West wing. 2nd floor. BRB. With one last look out the window, she set off. She reached their room only minutes later, but that apparently hadn’t kept Dan from pacing back and forth.

“Freckles!” he exclaimed as she walked in the door. “What happened to ‘Let’s make sure we stick together?’”

“I found a passage in the walls,” she replied, shrugging. “So I followed it to see where it went. And I checked out my ‘area.’” She slipped around their bed and found the slightly recessed panel. When the door swung open after she pressed on it, Dan frowned. He stepped up behind her and peered into the murky darkness.

“I don’t like this,” he told her. “Is there some way we can lock this thing? I’d rather not have someone sneaking in here tonight while we’re sleeping.”

“It’s not meant to lock,” she replied. “But we could move something heavy in front of it.”

“Yeah. Let’s do that.”

She turned to look at him. “Danny?”

“Uh… huh?”

“Listen. We aren’t really dating.”

“I know that,” he said somewhat defensively, rocking back on his heels.

“And I’ve already done the overprotective boyfriend thing, okay? I don’t want to ever repeat it. Not even in pretend.”

He huffed out a breath and smiled apologetically. “Sorry. You know I’m not normally like this. I don’t know what it is about this weekend that’s got me jumping at shadows. Forgive me for the caveman attitude?”

Trixie shot him a crooked smile. “You know I do. Have I ever managed to get really mad at you or stay mad at you for very long?”

“Well, Freckles… there were those first few days after we met.”

“Those? Do not count. I am fully prepared to swear even in a court of law that the girl you think you met right after you got to Sleepyside was actually PodTrixie, and you and I didn’t meet until at least a week after that.”

Dan chuckled and crossed to his bags. “I suppose I ought to do my best to keep up appearances and go investigate or monitor or whatever it is I’m supposed to be doing in my assigned area,” he said as he retrieved a heavy-duty Maglite.

“You’re supposed to go down there and wait to be scared,” Trixie told him. “Expect some odd noises, a scream or two, cold drafts, and if you’re really lucky, maybe they’ll even pump in some spooky fog and rattle a few chains.”

“Can’t wait. What are you going to do?”

“I want to go downstairs and look around some more. My ‘area’ really didn’t have much to offer. I’d like to see more of the common areas and maybe ‘accidentally’ overhear something from the production team, if I’m really lucky. If I don’t see you beforehand, I’ll be sure I’m at the lobby at ten.”

“All right. And, Trix? I’m not saying this ‘cause you’re a girl. I’m saying it because you’re my friend. Be careful. Okay?”

They took the main staircase together, going in opposite directions once they reached the ground floor. As Dan headed for his section in the west wing, Trixie turned toward the kitchen and dining room. She rounded a corner and stopped, not quite sure she could believe what she was seeing. She bit down on her lower lip to keep from laughing out loud. “Hey, there, Venkman,” she said drolly. “That’s some get-up you’ve got.”

A tall, slender man dressed in a jumpsuit and carrying an odd, boxy machine connected to a pack on his back peered at her blankly for a moment. “Uh? Oh. This is a device designed for recording sounds that are above and below the human range of hearing. I built it myself.”

“Yes. I kinda figured that out on my own.”

He drew himself up and offered her a smile that she supposed was meant to be friendly, but instead seemed rather awkward and uncertain. “I’m Richard,” he said. “Richard Wilson.”

“Trixie.”

“And are you part of our True Believers?”

“Nope. I’m here with Dr. VanHuis and his team.”

Richard’s face fell. “Oh. Right.”

“Sorry to disappoint. My boyfriend is a student in one of Dr. VanHuis’ courses and we both got invited along.”

“I run a blog and fan site for True Hauntings,” Richard told her. “It’s called True Followers. It was voted best site by the show’s fans, so the producers brought me in. I’m going to be blogging all weekend about my experiences.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Uh, huh. I did a little research last night online before coming up here today. Yours is one of the sites I found. I saw your post about being invited to be a part of this.”

“It’s all very exciting for me. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.” He flashed her a toothy grin. “The only other time I’ve ever been on TV was when I was in the background of a news report when there was a fire on my college campus about ten years ago.”

“Well, good luck with everything,” Trixie murmured, watching as Woody appeared at the end of the long corridor. “If you’ll excuse me, though, I think I’ll get out of your hair and be on my way.”

“Of course. And good luck to you. Perhaps by tomorrow night, we’ll have made a true believer out of you.” Richard moved off with slow, measured steps, fiddling with a knob on his recorder. Trixie watched him for a moment, then turned and met Woody halfway down the hall.

“So what do you think?” she asked the older woman, nodding in Richard’s direction just as he passed around a corner and out of sight.

“Would it be awful of me if I said I was sorely tempted to sneak up on him and shout ‘Boo!’?”

Laughing, Trixie shook her head. “Not at all. But I wish you hadn’t given me the idea. I think I might want to do something similar to Damon.”

“Now that, I would like to see,” Woody told her, laughing in return. “Are you out on another investigative tour or did I interrupt you on a different errand?”

“I don’t have a totally specific plan at the moment. I wanted to look around down here, though. I noticed we were all assigned to areas around the guest rooms, but nothing here in the main part of the hotel. That has me curious. You’re free to join me, if you like.”

“Thank you. I think I will.” Woody turned and fell into step at Trixie’s side as they walked back up the way she had come.

They passed an old game room with a rotting billiard table and empty shelves. Trixie stood in the doorway, shining her flashlight around. Unlike in the hallways, this room was unlit, and a flip of a light switch did nothing. “Guess they weren’t planning on anything happening in here,” she muttered.

As they moved on, Woody pointed to a series of paintings on one wall. “It’s a shame those were left behind when the hotel was abandoned,” she remarked. “They’re so damaged now, I’m not sure they could ever be repaired.”

Trixie studied them for a moment. “I like the center landscape, even if it is so covered in grime you can barely tell what it is.” Her eyes tracked over to the air vent a few feet away and she suddenly frowned. “Huh.”

Following her gaze, Woody looked up. “What? Did you see something?”

“It’s more a matter of what I can’t see,” Trixie replied. “Maybe… hmmm. I want to get a closer look.” She grabbed a wooden high-back chair from next to a dusty cabinet and set it up beneath the vent. She climbed up onto it slowly, testing it to make sure it could support her weight, then reached up, tugging on the vent’s grill. It came away far more easily than she’d expected and she almost toppled from her perch. “Well, now,” she murmured, as she tapped lightly on the metal siding.

“I’m assuming you’ve found something interesting?” Woody asked.

“Uh, huh. Take a look at this.” She leaned to the side so the older woman could see.

Woody was quiet for a moment, before giving Trixie an uncertain look. “I don’t understand. There’s nothing there. Or nothing I can see from this angle.”

“No, you’re right. There is nothing there. That’s what makes it so interesting.” She replaced the cover and jumped lightly down off the chair, dusting her hands on her jeans.

Peggy pushed through a swinging door and stepped into the hall. She held a carton of yogurt and a spoon. A second later, Carl followed, holding his own late-night snack. “What are you doing?” Peggy asked, watching as Trixie slid the chair back in place.

“Oh, you know,” Trixie answered, shrugging casually. “Team I Don’t Believe stuff.”

“I don’t know how you can’t believe,” Peggy declared, shaking out her long dark locks in a manner Trixie found overly dramatic. “So much has already happened here tonight! I thought I might faint when I heard those first horrible screams. I’ve already told Carl I absolutely don’t want to be left alone at any point. I’m surprised you’re willing to do any investigating without Dan.”

“Or that Dan would let you go off on your own,” Carl added, puffing out his chest a little and sliding an arm around Peggy’s shoulders. “I don’t think any of you women should be roaming around without one of the men as backup.”

“I think we’ll all be fine... even anyone who decides to go off alone,” Trixie remarked dryly. “Carl, if an angry spirit bent on dragging us to Hell burst out of this wall in front of us right now, what would you do? Fling your yogurt at it?”

Carl flushed as Peggy glared at her. With a rather haughty “Good night!” flung over her shoulder, Peggy marched off, Carl directly on her heels.

“For a couple of True Believers…” Woody murmured, watching them go.

“They don’t seem very… believable?” Trixie suggested.

Woody nodded, laughing softly. “Yes. That did feel rather a bit like a performance, didn’t it?”

“Uh, huh. Too bad no one was here to actually get it on recording.” Trixie waved one hand up at the vent. “And now that I’ve seen this, I’d like to check out the dumpsters out back.”

Woody sent her a puzzled frown. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me now. What do you expect to find in the dumpsters?”

“Trash,” Trixie said, chuckling. “And before you accuse me of being a wise-ass, I’m looking for specific trash. Want to come with?”

Woody considered the offer, then nodded. “Yes. Especially because I’m hoping you’ll explain your cryptic remark, whether you find what you’re looking for or not.”

They walked down the remainder of the hallway and turned the corner. Trixie paused to glance into the dining room. The production assistant was sitting at the table, typing something on a laptop. No one else was about. “I wonder what our show’s host is up to at the moment,” she mused quietly. “He seems to come and go a lot, doesn’t he?”

“Maybe he’s already retired for the night,” Woody suggested with a sly grin. “For his beauty sleep.”

“Or he’s off getting his latest Botox injections,” Trixie responded with a snicker. “I was going to go out through here, but I think I’d rather not possibly get stuck in a conversation with a True Hauntings crew member. What if we use the door next to the laundry area?"

“Sure,” Woody agreed. “I think – “ She cut herself off as the distant sound of music reached them.

The night we met I knew I needed you so
And if I had the chance I'd never let you go
So won't you say you love me? I'll make you so proud of me
We'll make 'em turn their heads every place we go

“Wow. You weren’t kidding when you said this was your husband’s favorite song.”

Woody sighed. “I’d better go check in with him. He doesn’t like me wandering about on my own.”

“Yours, too, huh? I already had to tell Dan to back off a little on that whole ‘big man taking care of the little woman’ crap.”

“Did it work?”

“Yeah, actually. It did. You should try it. You’re Woody! Strong and independent, right? Let him know you appreciate his concern, but you can take care of yourself.”

Woody straightened, an arrested expression on her face. “You’re right!” she declared. “Absolutely right.” She marched off with a determined step. Trixie used a short side hall to reach one of the back doors out of the hotel.

She glanced at her watch as she slipped outside and found a stone path that led to the once manicured gardens. At some point, the crew had hung spotlights all along the outside wall, and they now served to brightly illuminate the area. She tried to picture the winding paths and flowerbeds as they once must have been. No doubt, when the hotel was still in all its grandeur, these gardens were a gorgeous sight to behold. Now, they were seedy and overgrown, long neglected and forgotten.

She circled around the building, cutting along the back side of the east wing. The moon was high overhead now and a fresh breeze blew down from the distant mountains, rustling the tree leaves and bringing a welcome coolness. She hadn’t really recognized how stuffy it was inside until she’d stepped outside and gratefully breathed in the clean, bracing air.

The dumpsters were exactly where she’d expected to find them, close to the outer kitchen door. She lifted the lid of one and grimaced at the reeking odors that assaulted her. She found a twig on the ground and used it to slide aside several frozen pizza boxes and poke at the black trash bags underneath, tearing one open at the side. She stared at the mess of potato chip bags, soda cans, and chicken bones, then dropped the twig and lifted the dumpster’s lid back into place. Her very next stop would definitely be the kitchen, so she could use the sink to wash her hands.

JoAnne was standing at the stainless steel counter as Trixie walked in. The TA was unpacking a box with soda cans in several different flavors. “They’ve got you on the food crew now?” Trixie asked as she crossed to the sink.

JoAnne nodded, using the back of her hand to push her bangs from her forehead. “You know what they say, right? A teacher’s assistant’s work is never done.”

The teams met back in the main lobby at the appointed time, arriving from various different parts of the hotel. Late-comers were introduced around. They gathered in groups, the believers on one side and the skeptics on the other, as Barry explained that Damon would be interviewing anyone who wanted to speak about their evening’s investigations.

“Oh, we do!” Peggy exclaimed loudly. “Carl and I heard these truly awful screams. It sounded like someone was dying horribly! And then there were these cold spots! One minute we were hot. The next we were hit by these blasts of cold air. Isn’t that supposed to mean there’s a ghost around?”

“Yes,” Damon said, nodding. “That’s correct. It sounds like you two have a lot to talk about. Being open to receiving signs from the spirits means you’ll see and hear things others may not.”

“Oh, brother,” Jeremy muttered under his breath.

“How long do you think they’ll keep us here?” Dan asked. “Are we all going to have to sit through everyone else’s interviews?”

“Well, we can help cut this short by telling them we have nothing to say,” Jeremy pointed out. “That’s my plan, anyway.”

Whether or not is was in response to their quiet conversation, or something Barry had already intended to say, the producer answered Dan’s question. “We don’t want to keep you long tonight,” he said. “We’d like to have you back out investigating as quickly as possible. As you probably know, the hours between midnight and three are considered peak times for paranormal activities. So, we’ll conduct some interviews now, then get you back out there. Also, on the table behind me we have some hand-held cameras you can check out. Take one along in case you can get any audio or video footage.”

Trixie huffed out a breath and rolled her eyes.

“What?” Dan asked her.

“They’ll have plenty of ‘footage’ without our help,” she replied softly. “Trust me.”

As if he knew he’d need to pin them down before they could slip away, Damon approached Dr. VanHuis and his team first.

“So,” he said with a knowing smile, “and what do our skeptics have to report so far?”

“The roast beef was delicious,” Jeremy said, straight-faced.

“It’s too bad about the chandelier,” Trixie added. “It was lovely.”

The show host’s expression hardened. “I see.”

“I think Peggy is really looking forward to her interview,” Dr. VanHuis said pleasantly, “so we’ll let you get on with that. Perhaps we’ll have something more interesting to add in the morning.” The professor stood, looking at his team expectantly. “Shall we?”

They left the lobby together, taking the stairs to the second floor.

“We’ll need to be careful,” Dr. VanHuis said quietly. “They know we’ve heard the same shouts and cries as everyone else and we’re just refusing to play along. I don’t know how long they’ll let us get away with it.”

“Do you want us to go back to our assigned areas now?” JoAnne asked him.

Dr. VanHuis shook his head. “Not unless you want to. I don’t see any point myself. It will probably be more of the same. I certainly haven’t seen or heard anything that can’t be explained as simple tricks. Personally, I’m ready to knock off for the night.”

“We are, too,” Trixie said, taking Dan’s hand and linking their fingers. “We’ll see you all in the morning.”

“Anybody know anything about breakfast?” Jeremy asked. “Since we’re apparently supposed to be handling this on our own now?”

“It’s covered,” JoAnne assured him. “There are croissants and English muffins and a variety of fruit. Plus I heard Barry telling his assistant and that woman working tech that he wants them to make us scrambled eggs and bacon. So we can just stick with the schedule. Breakfast starts at nine.”

They split up, heading for their rooms, and Trixie sighed heavily once she and Dan were inside with the door closed and locked.

“Are you all right?” Dan asked her, frowning slightly.

“Oh, I’m fine. Honestly, I stayed up much later than I really should have last night, so I’m worn out. I just want to get some sleep.”

“Well, first, let’s move this armoire over in front of the secret door, okay? I really don’t want someone popping in on us uninvited.”

Between them, they managed to push the wooden cabinet across the room and set it in place, at a crooked angle with the bed.

“It’s not perfect,” Dan said, regarding the results of their efforts critically, “but I think it will work.”

He let Trixie use the restroom first. She changed into a set of flannel pajamas, washed her face and brushed her teeth with the icy water from the sink, and dragged her brush through her tangled curls. While Dan was getting himself ready for bed, she used her phone to answer a brief email message from her mother, simply saying she would be “busy” for the weekend, but that she would call home on Monday. At some point, she supposed it would come out that she’d spent a couple of days in the same hotel room as Dan, but she decided she’d address that issue only when it came up. There was no sense mentioning it herself and borrowing trouble she didn’t need.

“I think we should leave at least one light on,” Dan suggested as he pulled a plastic bag from his backpack to hold his laundry.

Trixie glanced around the room. “So, what? The desk lamp, then? We don’t have a nightlight. And do you really think we even need anything?”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Dan said firmly. “If I even suspect there’s someone in this room with us tonight, I don’t want to be scrambling for light to see. They might not come in through the passage behind the wall, but it’s not like our door lock would be hard for someone to pick.”

“Fair enough.”

“Are you going to have a hard time sleeping if we do?”

“I don’t think so. My nutty roommate and I never seem to be on the same schedule, so there are plenty of nights where she’s up late studying while I’m sleeping and vice versa. It shouldn’t bother me.”

“Do you have a preference for either side?” he asked, lifting the bed covers and folding them back.

“Nope.” She set her water bottle down on the nightstand, then clambered up into the bed, stretching out with a long sigh. “Hmmm. This is nice. I wonder how much True Hauntings spent getting the hotel ready for us.”

Dan joined her, pulling the blankets up around them.

Somewhere, a door slammed. Seconds later, someone screamed. It started loud and terrified, but slowly died out, ending with a low moan.

“Should we investigate that?” Dan asked, flipping on his side to face Trixie.

“Feel free,” Trixie replied without opening her eyes. “Me? I’m staying here.”

“Okay. Then I guess I’ll try to ignore it.”

“That’s your best bet. Night, Danny.”

“Good night, Freckles.”

Trixie wasn’t sure how long she’d been sleeping before she was woken by Dan lightly shaking her and saying her name. “Hmph?”

“Trix. Wake up. Listen.”

She blinked and yawned, then stilled, waiting. Soft voices were whispering somewhere nearby. She couldn’t make out any of the words. “Really? You woke me for this? Go back to sleep, Dan.”

“It’s been going on now for almost ten minutes. And I think it’s coming from the walls, so it must be someone in the passages.”

“Could be,” Trixie said, unconcerned. “But it’s not like they’ll be able to get in here with the armoire blocking the door.”

“But I think it’s getting louder, too.”

“Okay. What do you want me to do about it?”

“We are here to help Dr. VanHuis,” he reminded her. “Shouldn’t we try to find out who this is?”

“It won’t matter, Danny,” she told him. “And I promise, tomorrow, or I should say later today, there will be plenty of time for us to help your professor.” She rolled over and tugged the covers up to her chin.

Unfortunately, now that she was awake, she found the harsh hisses and wordless mutterings distracting enough to keep her from falling back asleep. And Dan was right. It was getting louder. The whispering increased in volume until it seemed to be coming from all directions at once. With a grunt, Trixie sat up, grabbed her water bottle from the bedside table, and flung it across the room. It bounced off the armoire and hit the floor. “Shut up!” she yelled. “You aren’t being scary! Just stupid, crazy, annoying!”

“Uh… Trixie?” Dan muttered, wincing. “Maybe you shouldn’t piss off the poltergeists?”

“Why not? They don’t seem to be worried about pissing me off.” She banged her palm against the wood paneling above the bed’s short headboard. “Don’t make me come in there and kick your lousy asses!” she hollered. “You know I’ll do it!”

Silence fell around them abruptly.

“That’s better,” she said in satisfaction.

“Holy crap.” Dan stared at Trixie, his expression awed. “Freckles, I think you just scared the ghosts.”

Trixie rolled her eyes and flopped back down against her pillows. “Whatever. I just want a few hours of sleep. I don’t think it’s asking too much of them to leave us alone for that long.”

It seemed to Trixie like only a few minutes had passed when her phone’s alarm clock jangled, dragging her from a dreamless sleep. She groaned as she turned over and sat up.

“Morning,” Dan said. He was sitting on the chaise lounge, tying his sneakers.

“Humph.” Trixie slid from the bed, grabbed her bag, and padded across to the bathroom. She was going to need a shower, she decided, even if the water was frigid. In fact, it would probably be better if it was cold, to shock her system into a more awake state.

As it turned out, the water was neither hot nor cold, but merely tepid. She showered quickly, dressed in a pair of comfortable jeans and a Barin College t-shirt, and left her hair to dry on its own.

“You hungry?” Dan asked her as she crammed her feet into her loafers.

“At the moment, I’m more interested in coffee than anything else.”

“Gosh, Trix. I don’t know what your brother ever meant when he said you aren’t a morning person,” Dan said, chuckling.

When they reached the dining room, they found it in a minor uproar. The wall above the sideboard was dripping with a liquid that looked distinctly like blood.

“Get out,” Trixie read aloud. “How… original.”

Dr. VanHuis crossed to them, his expression sober. “Good morning. I just got here a few minutes ago myself. No one seems to know exactly when that was done, but it must have been within the last hour or so.” He glanced over his shoulder. “They’ve already filmed a segment for it. Damon did a whole speech about ‘escalating activity.’”

“I bet it’s actually kind of fun to work for this show,” Trixie said suddenly.

“Huh?” Dan regarded her blankly.

“Oh… you know,” she said, vaguely waving her hand toward the wall. “So. Coffee?”

“You can get some in the kitchen,” Dr. VanHuis told her. “Along with your breakfast. They decided not to serve the food out here, for obvious reasons.”

“What do you say we eat out on the patio?” Dan suggested to Trixie. “It might be nice to get out of here, even for a little while.”

“That sounds like a splendid idea!” Barry boomed from behind them. “We can dine al fresco in the sunshine.”

Dan turned and shot the man a dark look before taking Trixie’s hand. “Terrific,” he muttered. “What on Earth makes him think I was inviting the whole crowd?”

There were no tables on the patio, so everyone found seats where they could, either on one of the few cement benches that hadn’t succumbed to the elements, or the low stone railing. As they ate, they were serenaded by a chorus of chirps and tweets from songbirds calling to one another.

Barry stood and waited until all eyes were upon him. “Well, our day is already off to an interesting start, eh? I’m sure you’re all eager to get back to exploring the hotel, but before you do, we’d like to meet in the lobby again to share our stories from last night. Please don’t feel rushed. Finish your breakfasts, then make your way over. We’ll have the camera set up and ready for you when you are.”

“Whoopee,” Jeremy grumbled acerbically. “Can’t wait. Seriously. Who do they think they’re trying to kid with all this cheap amusement park nonsense?”

“You’d be surprised,” Trixie replied. “Look at ‘professional wrestling.’ No matter how staged it is, there are still some people who believe whole-heartedly that it’s all real. And I'm sure some True Hauntings viewers are the same. Plus? I don't think our True Believers actually really believe this hotel is haunted. It's more like they're here to be entertained and have fun.”

When they arrived in the lobby, they found two love seats had been moved to the center of the room, standing next to each other at an angle. The camera was set on a heavy stand a few feet away.

“Ah! Dan! Trixie! Good. Good.” Barry smiled widely at them. “Now that you’re here, we can begin. We’d like to start with an interview with you and our True Believer’s young couple together. Last night was pretty wild, eh? We want to get your thoughts and reactions on all the activity.”

Damon waved them to one of the love seats. Peggy and Carl immediately took the other. There was a pause while the cameraman made some adjustments, then Damon walked over and sat down on the arm of Peggy and Carl’s seat.

“Good morning, True Hauntings fans! We’re here again in the Raven’s Hollow Hotel lobby, speaking now to Peggy and Carl from our True Believers team and Trixie and Dan, representing the doubters. Though after last night, perhaps they’ve changed their minds? We’ll let them describe for you everything they experienced. First, though, Peggy, I understand you had a fairly sleepless night? Why don’t you tell us about it?”

“Omigosh! It was terrifying,” Peggy moaned, looking directly into the camera. “I wanted to leave, but Carl insisted we stay. He said we’d regret it forever if we missed tonight. I don’t know. At first, there was all this whispering. Then we heard someone crying. And the shrieks! They wouldn’t stop. It was like someone was in horrible pain! It sounded like a woman. I’ll bet it was the ghost of Lucille, reliving her last moments as her husband stabbed her over and over. I was so scared! I didn’t get any sleep at all.”

Damon looked extremely pleased with her words, though he maintained a concerned expression. He turned back to the camera. “This sort of paranormal activity is typical in cases like this,” he explained seriously. “We can expect similar events throughout the day, leading to midnight when Harold and Lucille Moran will finally reveal themselves to us.” He shifted in his seat. “And what about you two?” he asked, addressing Dan and Trixie. “Can you report similar experiences?”

“We heard whispering,” Dan said evenly.

“Yes? You heard the ghostly spirits trying to communicate with you. And then?”

“And then?” Dan echoed. “And then my girlfriend yelled at them and threatened to beat the stuffing out of ‘em if they didn’t shut up, so… it was pretty quiet after that.”

Damon’s jaw dropped. He looked to Trixie for confirmation. She simply nodded and shrugged.

The show’s host seemed to be at a temporary loss for words. He licked his lips and rubbed one palm across his thigh before finally facing the camera again. “Well, True Hauntings fans, I have to say, this is a first on our show. We’ve had believers and we’ve had occasional doubters. We’ve had our share of guests determined to prove they weren’t afraid of anything. But to the best of my knowledge, we’ve never had anyone react quite like this before.”

“Hey,” Trixie said mildly. “I’m a total grouch when I lose sleep.”

It seemed Dan’s pronouncement had effectively ended the interview. Damon thanked them and rose. He glanced at his watch. “You’re free to go,” he told them. “Lunch will be served in the dining room at one thirty. You have the day to continue your investigations, but be sure to be back here in the lobby by no later than eleven thirty tonight, so we’re ready for the main event.”

“Do you really think ghosts care all that much about time?” Trixie asked him, one brow raised. “I mean… they’re dead. It’s not like they have any more appointments to keep.”

He sent her a sour look, then stalked off without answering.

“Really!” Peggy glowered at her. “You shouldn’t make fun of the spirits! I’ll bet they don’t like it.”

“Who says I’m making fun of the spirits?” Trixie stood and held her hand out to Dan. “C’mon. Let’s go ‘continue our investigations.’”

Dan waited until they were out of the earshot of the others before speaking. “So, what’s the plan?”

“I want to keep a low profile this morning,” she murmured softly. “I know it will be boring, but do you mind hanging out in your area for a while? Pretending you’re investigating or waiting for something to happen? I want it to look like at least one of us is doing what we’re supposed to be doing.”

“I can do that,” he replied agreeably. “That’s what smart phones with Netflix access are all about. But what are you going to be doing in the meanwhile?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was going to be actively ghost hunting? In specific, I’m going to go looking for their lair.”

“Uh, huh. All right. You go do that. But at some point? I’m going to want a full explanation for everything you’ve been up to.”

“And you’ll get one. Promise.” She rose up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. “See ya at lunch.”

Trixie took the main stairs up to the second floor and hurried to their room. She let herself in, fetched her flashlight, and then stepped up to the armoire. It was large and heavy, and she struggled to slide it back from the wall.

“Well, this was a mistake,” she groaned, realizing she should have asked Dan to come back and help her with the task. Finally, she managed to shift it just enough to slip behind it and open the door in the paneling. She clicked on her light and set out, mentally picturing the layout of the hotel in her head. She kept the flashlight beam aimed at the floor, and very soon found crisscrossing tracks in the dust. Some, she knew, were her own. She retraced her steps from before until she came to the spot where she’d exited the passageway the night before. This time, she continued on. Now the footprints she was following definitely weren’t hers.

They led her down one narrow passage and turned right. Trixie knew she was going further and further into the west wing of the hotel. Finally, she came to a spot where the tracks ended. It only took her less than a minute to find the catch that opened another door. She pressed her ear against the wooden wall and listened. She knew she was taking a risk, but when all seemed quiet, she drew in a deep breath and pressed the button, letting the panel swing silently outward a few inches.

She was looking into a room with two double beds. It was obvious they’d seen use. Clothes were scattered about, along with electronic equipment and two portable fans. Although the room was empty, she could hear the water running in the shower. She quickly stepped back and closed the door. She’d found what she was looking for. Now she needed to get back to the main part of the hotel without getting caught.

Trixie spent the remainder of the morning sitting on the floor outside room 220, dutifully acting as if she were monitoring her section for any signs of ghosts. She played Angry Birds on her phone, visited some of her favorite websites, and sent text messages to pretty much every person in her contact list. She completely ignored all the screams and cries around her, though she couldn’t help but laugh at one particularly low groan that ended with a distinct sneeze. When lunch time finally rolled around, she sighed in relief.

Several people, including Dan, were already in the dining room when she arrived. Lunch proved to be spaghetti with a meatless sauce and slightly burned garlic bread.

“Did you find the lair?” Dan asked her as she pulled out a chair next to him.

“Uh, huh. And pretty much right where I expected it to be.”

“Lair?” Dr. VanHuis asked, both brows raised in question.

Trixie glanced over at the next table, where Damon sat eating with a few members of his team. “Uh, huh. But I think we should find something else to discuss right now. I’ll give you the whole tale later tonight.”

They spent the next half hour with the professor entertaining them with stories about some of the more creative answers his students had given him on various essay exams. His words were punctuated by shrieks and wails, but it seemed not even the True Believers were paying the interruptions much attention any more.

“Dan,” Barry said, strolling up to their table. “I was wondering if I could drag you away from your beautiful girlfriend for a little while this afternoon? We need some strong men to help us set up the spotlights in the lobby. We want to make sure we have ample lighting tonight.”

Dan glanced at Trixie. She nodded, so he shrugged one shoulder and smiled shortly at the producer. “Sure.”

After taking her plate to the kitchen and washing it in the sink, Trixie strolled back through the dining room and out the open French windows to the patio. It was another gorgeous day, so at odds with the theme of Weekend at a Haunted Hotel. The bright sun was just starting to drift toward the west, framed by a few fluffy white clouds that dotted the deep blue sky. In the distance, the Adirondack Mountains rose up, a dark smudge on the horizon. She crossed to the same cement bench she and Dan had shared at breakfast and sat, looking out at the overgrown gardens.

A jet black raven flew up from behind one of the untamed azalea bushes that grew along both sides of the patio’s stone steps. The bird flapped its wings wildly as it scolded her with raucous cries.

“Oh, I guess you think you belong here more than I do, huh?” Trixie asked, grinning as she watched the bird fly away. “And I suppose you’re right. This place isn’t called Trixie’s Hollow, after all.”

“Talking to the native wildlife?”

Trixie laughed as she turned to see Woody standing a few feet away. “Does that really surprise you?”

The older woman shook her head, her amusement evident. “Can’t say that it does. In fact, I’m not sure it would have even surprised me if the bird had talked back.” She lifted a hand and pointed. “Isn’t this a lovely view?” she asked. “I know the gardens have gone to seed, but I still think it’s breathtaking.”

“It’s beautiful,” Trixie agreed.

“Definitely a good choice if you were looking for a place to take a break. In which case, I’m sorry if I interrupted your quiet time.”

“No worries,” Trixie assured her. “You’re fine. I’m actually trying to decide the best place to hide out for a little while. For Dan and me both.  I know the obvious place would be our room, but then someone might come looking for us there.”

“Is something amiss?” Woody asked, looking concerned.

“No. Or at least, not anything that isn’t planned to be so, if you know what I mean. But I want to stay out of sight from pretty much everybody else for a bit. Especially the people working for the show.”

“Well, you know I won’t tell anyone,” Woody told her with a quick, conspiratorial grin. “And I think I have a recommendation for just where you and Dan can go.”

Trixie’s brows rose. “Yeah?”

“Uh, huh. Come with me. There’s a small lounge on the third floor of the main section of the hotel. When I looked in there yesterday, it was obvious no one had been in the room in ages. I warn you. The dust is everywhere, even on the floor, and it’s pretty thick, but I think you’ll be safe from discovery.”

Trixie followed Woody back into the hotel. They walked down the main hallway, heading for the back stairwell. Just as they reached the side corridor that led to the lobby, Trixie almost bumped into Dr. VanHuis as he turned the corner.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed with a light chuckle. “Didn’t mean to almost mow you down! I did want to get a chance to talk with you, though. How are things going?”

“Fine. I don’t want to say anything more at the moment, though, because there’s a very good chance the wrong people are listening right now and will overhear me. And, uh, if anyone tells you in the next few hours that I’m missing or Dan’s missing… don’t worry about it. We’ll turn up when the appropriate time comes.”

He blinked and rubbed the back of his neck. “All right,” he said after a moment. “I’ll just wait and trust that you’ll explain everything at some point.”

“I will. I promise you that!”

A long scream interrupted Dr. VanHuis’ reply. He clasped his hand to his chest and drew in a deep breath. “Even though I’m expecting that to happen, it still makes me feel like I’m about to have a heart attack!”

“It’s a lot like being in a fun house,” Trixie told him. “You know something is going to jump out at you. You just don’t know when, so it scares you, even though you were expecting it.”

There was another scream, this time accompanied by a loud banging noise.

Trixie rolled her eyes and pounded her fist against the wall. “Knock it off!” she yelled.

A short, animalistic shriek was her reply.

“Oh, bite me!” she called back.

Dr. VanHuis burst into laughter. “Oh, my! Trixie, I have to say you are every bit as delightful as Dan always said. I’m very glad you agreed to join us for this experiment. I look forward to whatever it is you have up your sleeve for tonight.” With that, he wandered off, still chuckling to himself.

Trixie looked over at Woody. “Okay. Show me where this unused lounge is.”

“You know, my dear,” Woody said as they strolled along, “I must say how much I admire your spunk. I wish I’d been even half as gutsy as you are when I was your age, as long ago as that was!” She patted her greying hair and smiled ruefully. “I’m afraid maturity didn’t necessarily bring me that much more confidence.”

“I don’t know about that,” Trixie said sincerely. “You’re a lot less frazzled by all the ‘Help me! I’m dying a bloody death!’ screams and groans and shouts than most everyone else I’ve talked to today. I think you have more guts than you give yourself credit for.”

“That’s good of you to say,” Woody murmured, blushing. “Thank you.”

The lounge was small, and as Woody had stated, clearly unused. It was only big enough to hold a sofa that was covered with a grungy drop cloth, a low table, and two wooden rockers next to a window. Dust coated every surface, including the parquet floor.

“This will work,” Trixie decided. “We can shut the door and even push the couch up against it. Thanks for suggesting it.”

“You’re very welcome. I’m going to run along now, but if I don’t see you before tonight, let me just say I’m looking forward to whatever it is you have planned every bit as much as the professor.”

Fifteen minutes later, Trixie found Dan in the kitchen washing apples. JoAnne and Jeremy stood at the counter, making sandwiches. Dan smiled when he saw her. “Dinner for tonight,” he explained. “We’re putting together bagged meals people can take back to their rooms. We thought that might give everyone a chance to rest up, if they want, plus no one wanted to try to cook a big meal.”

“That’s perfect,” she said, pleased that they would have something to eat while they waited in the lounge. “What can I do to help?”

“Can you start wrapping the sandwiches?” JoAnne asked her. “We don’t have baggies, but we did find a box of plastic wrap in the supplies Jason left.”

It took about fifteen more minutes for them to assemble enough sacks for everyone. In that time, they were treated to a series of screams and cries and various moans and groans. At one point they heard a clanging noise, like two pots banging together.

After a particularly drawn out wail, Jeremy slammed his palm against the wall. “Enough already!” he hollered. “We get it! You’re dead and unhappy about it!”

At Trixie’s giggle, he flashed her a sheepish grin. “I figured it’s been working for you….”

JoAnne looked back and forth between them. “So, you really aren’t buying any of this at all, are you?”

“Are you?” Jeremy scoffed. “Come on! My frat brothers put together a scarier haunted house than this.”

“So what do you think will happen tonight?” she pressed. “Maybe we skeptics don’t believe, but we haven’t exactly done anything to prove it one way or another.”

“Oh, I think tonight we’ll have our proof,” Trixie said lightly. “And I’m sure there’s quite a show planned for us. Don’t you think? I mean, you know how these television people are.”

JoAnne shrugged. “I suppose so.”

Trixie grabbed two of the bags from the counter. “We’ve got a few hours until we’re supposed to meet in the lobby,” she said to Dan. “Let’s go back to our room for a while. I’m really in no mood to get cornered by Damon for another one of his interviews.”

After ascending the main staircase, Trixie turned left and took two steps. Dan stopped and caught her by her arm. “Hey! Earth to Trixie! Our room is this way. Remember?” He gestured to their right.

She held a finger to her lips and cocked her head.

He regarded her strangely for a moment, but then nodded and followed her as she led him toward the west wing. They used the back stairs to get to the third floor and soon Trixie was showing Dan the lounge. “We’re going to hole up here this evening,” she said softly. “But before we do, there are a few things we each need to take care of. We’ll do that and meet back here. Okay? Oh, and make sure you take a bathroom break before you come back, because I doubt we’ll find one up here that we’d be comfortable using.”

“What do we need to do?”

“Shhh. Keep it down. I know it looks like no one’s been up here, but… we need to be careful. Right now, I need you to go to the basement off the kitchen and find the main breaker box. Figure out which switches control the power to the lobby area. Don’t let anyone know what you’re doing. And be sure you take a good look all around, because you’ll be going back there tonight, and you may not be able to use a flashlight for navigation. It’s very important that no one sees or hears you, so you can’t do a lot of fumbling around.”

“What are you going to go do?” he asked in a whisper.

“Make a phone call that I don’t want anyone overhearing. I figure the best way to make sure that happens is do it from my car. Go now and meet me back here when you’re done. Text me when you’re on your way. If I beat you here, I’ll have the door already shut, but I’ll open it when you get here. If you’re back first, do the same for me. We’ll have our supper in here and wait until it’s safe to sneak back out again.”

“All right,” he agreed. “I’ll get back here as soon as I can.”

“Do your best to stay out of sight,” she cautioned one last time before they split up and went separate ways.

By the time Dan returned to the lounge almost an hour later, Trixie was already there. She’d spread a sheet out on the floor and unpacked their dinners, setting the food alongside two bottles of water.

“Are we having a picnic?” Dan asked with a smile.

“Something like that. I brought the sheet from our room. That was kinda tricky. I had it folded up, but I really wasn’t sure how I was going to explain it if someone saw me with it. We’ve got a bit of a wait ahead of us. I was thinking after we eat, we might even try to take a nap. It’s been pretty quiet up here for the last twenty minutes.” She reached for her water. “So, mission accomplished? You ready for tonight?”

“I had to wait for a while before I could go into the basement,” he told her, “because Barry and Damon were using the kitchen of all places for some kind of conference. Once they finally left, I was able to get down there and look around. I’m ready. But I’m still unclear on precisely what I’ll be doing.”

“Well, pull up a floor and I’ll fill you in,” she replied with a small smile, patting the spot next to her.

Dan dropped down at her side, and while they ate their cold supper, Trixie outlined precisely what she wanted him to do.

Shortly before eleven thirty that night, the hotel lobby filled with the production staff and ghost hunting teams. By some sort of unspoken consent, the True Believers staked out a set of seats on one side of the room, leaving Dr. VanHuis, Jeremy, and JoAnne on the other.

“Where are Trixie and Dan?” Jeremy asked quietly. “I haven’t seen either of them for hours.”

Dr. VanHuis pursed his lips then huffed out a breath. “I don’t know, but Trixie said not to be concerned by their absence. She told me they would turn up when the time came.” He looked about the lobby. “Of course, I thought that time was now. Maybe we should be worried?”

“She didn’t give you any ideas at all where they would be?” JoAnne asked, her eyes narrowed as she stared at the True Believers.

“None.”

“Do you want me to go see if they’re in their room?”

“No. Let’s… let’s give them some more time. I know Dan has a lot of faith in Trixie. I think it’s justified.”

They watched as Damon pulled Peggy and Carl aside for one last interview. Peggy spent several minutes reenacting her frightened reactions to the day’s events. When she was through, Damon thanked her then approached Dr. VanHuis and his students.

“You seem to be missing part of your team,” he said archly. “I hope the vengeful spirits haven’t done their worst?”

“They’ll turn up,” Dr. VanHuis said, his tone and expression neutral.

“Or perhaps the fear finally got to them and they bolted?” Damon suggested with a small, cold smile.

“If that’s what you want to believe,” Dr. VanHuis returned, “you run with that idea for now.” He waited for the host to move away before glancing at his students. “Pompous ass,” he muttered sourly.

Barry stepped to the center of the room and held up a hand to get everyone’s attention. “While we have a few minutes, we’re going to do a bit of shifting about,” he explained. “We need to make sure we have everyone properly situated and check the lighting.” He paused and looked about, his expression somber. “The hour approaches. Steel your hearts and be ready! True Believers? I think your faith is soon to be rewarded!”

It didn’t take long for the production team to decide exactly where they wanted each person sitting. They moved a few chairs around and set up one more spotlight.

“They really are setting the stage for this, huh?” Jeremy whispered to Dr. VanHuis. “Look. They’ve made it so we’ll all be facing the same way. Like we’re in a theater. What do you suppose they have in store?”

Dr. VanHuis looked down at his watch. “I’m not sure, but we’ll know soon enough. It’s eleven fifty-three.”

It was now a matter of waiting. A hushed, expectant silence fell over the group. Someone coughed. Someone else laughed nervously. Sitting at the computer table, Richard typed furiously on his laptop, the clicking of his keys particularly loud in the otherwise quiet room.

A distant shout echoed as if from far underground and several people gasped and started.

“Holy crap,” Carl whispered. “This is the scariest thing I have ever done.”

“Five minutes until midnight,” Damon said eagerly. He rose from his chair and moved to the center of the room, coming to stand before the camera. “Greetings, True Hauntings fans. Fifty years ago, in this very hotel lobby, as the clock struck midnight, Harold Moran stabbed his beautiful wife twenty-seven times in a fit of jealous rage before hanging himself from the upstairs balcony you see behind me. Legend says their angry spirits haunt the Raven’s Hollow Hotel, locked in their eternal hatred for each other. We come here tonight, on the fiftieth anniversary of this gruesome murder and suicide, hoping to record the spectral manifestations of these two, bitter souls.”

He stepped back slightly, allowing the camera to capture more of the surroundings. “The tension around me is now palatable. To my left, we have our team of True Believers, and to my right, the doubters and skeptics, still unconvinced despite all the unexplained events of the past twenty-four hours. The moment is almost upon us. What will happen next?”

The cameraman turned in a slow circle, panning around and capturing the various expressions on the faces of members from both teams.

Damon moved in for another close-up. “One minute ‘til midnight,” he intoned, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “Just one minute to go.”  

Silence fell over the room. A faint creaking, groaning noise reached them, coming from somewhere above.

“Did you hear that?” Peggy exclaimed fearfully, clutching at Carl’s hand.

No one responded to her question, but a whimper was heard on the True Believers’ side of the room.

Several more seconds ticked by. All eyes were turned toward the antique grandfather clock.

Damon began a quiet countdown. “Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two.”

The lights blinked out and a high-pitched scream shattered the stillness, followed by several frightened shouts. Chairs scraped across the floor and something fell with a loud thump. The distinct sound of breaking glass followed.

“Oh, my God! Oh, my God! I felt something! Something touched me!” a terrified female voice cried out.

For several long moments, sheer pandemonium ruled before Dr. VanHuis raised his voice to be heard over the various cries and the ringing chimes of the clock. “Stop!” he thundered. “Be still and be quiet! Panic serves no purpose!”

Everyone froze. Even the grandfather clock was silent. In the sudden and unexpected quiet, a curious new noise was heard.

“Is… is someone eating… popcorn?” Richard Wilson asked in hesitant disbelief.

A single light clicked on. It came from a small, portable lamp on a table near the room’s massive stone fireplace and though the bulb wattage was low, it seemed almost blinding after the near complete darkness. “Sorry,” Trixie said, though her tone indicated the opposite. She was sitting in one of the two dark blue, wingback chairs that flanked the fireplace. “That would be me.” She held up a bag of microwave popcorn, reading the label. “It’s, uh… Movie Theater Butter flavor. If you ignore the fact that each kernel is like a little bitty cancer bomb, it’s not too bad. Anyone want some?”

“Wh- what’s going on?” Damon stuttered, waving his hand at his cameraman as a signal to cease filming. Barry stepped forward and shook his head, his eyes gleaming. “Keep rolling,” he ordered.

Trixie peered down at her watch. “Hang on,” she murmured. “Give it… a few more seconds….”

Power was restored to the room. The overhead spotlights blinked on and with a low hum, the production crew’s bank of laptops and computers rebooted. As everyone looked around in confusion, Dan appeared, trotting into the lobby from the direction of the kitchen. “Did it work?” he asked, his eyes on Trixie.

“For the most part,” she replied with a grin. “Though we clearly need to synchronize our watches better. You killed the lights almost two seconds early.”

“Someone tell me what is going on,” Damon demanded, his gaze tracking from Trixie to Dan and back again.

“Absolutely,” Trixie said agreeably. “Everybody have a seat. I know you all came here this weekend for a good ghost story, but I’m afraid you’re stuck with something more like a cheesy cartoon mystery. No, really. By the time I’m done with this tale, you’ll be looking outside to see where I parked the Mystery Machine and wondering what I did with my talking dog. Thursday night, Dan called me and asked me if I would come along for this fun-filled weekend, not to find evidence or lack of evidence that the Raven’s Hollow Hotel is haunted, but rather, to investigate the people who organized this venture.” She paused and shook the popcorn bag. “Sure I can’t interest any of you in some tasty popcorn?” she asked. “No? All right. Suit yourselves.

“Three years ago a reality television program called True Hauntings in America was at the top of its game. It had the highest ratings on its network and was a merchandising dream. Fans of the show snatched up True Believer t-shirts and posters and if I’m not mistaken, I seem to recall even once seeing True Believer bed sheets at a Wal-Mart.” She smiled at Dan as he crossed the lobby and took the seat opposite of hers. “Admit it,” she said teasingly. “You so totally have one of the shirts somewhere in the back of your closet.”

Laughing, he shook his head. “I do not! I can’t believe you even suggested it.”

Trixie looked back at her audience. “But we all know how fickle Americans can be. Especially the young people who made up most of True Hauntings fan base. The ratings plummeted. Seeing cancelation looming on the horizon, the producers knew they needed to do something drastic. Something big. So they hatched a plan to fake a haunting at one of the most famous supposedly haunted hotels in the country.”

Damon coughed loudly to call attention to himself. “Now, wait one minute!” he began in protest.

“Ah,” Trixie said, cutting him off. “It’s my turn to speak. You’ve said quite enough, I think. I’m assuming the rest of you agree?”

There were murmurs of assent from around the open room.

“Good. So, let’s set the stage. We have a group of producers understandably worried that they’re going to lose their cash cow. They’ve decided to go all out and they need a location for their schemes. Enter the Raven’s Hollow Hotel. Several decades in the past, two people died under unfortunate circumstances in the hotel’s beautiful lobby, and as is common in cases like this, soon stories started circulating that their angry spirits roamed the halls, terrorizing guests.

“The legends grew, and the story changed. In the 70s, people said Lucille Moran was strangled by her estranged husband. By the 90s, she’d been stabbed in the heart when he found her in the arms of another man. The latest version of the tale says he stabbed her multiple times in a psychotic, jealous rage. Interestingly, the one true part of this sad story, that Harold Moran hung himself after his wife’s death, remained the same, no matter how much the rest of it was altered.”

“So what did happen to Lucille Moran, then?” Peggy asked, leaning forward in her seat.

“The actual facts of the case are decidedly more mundane than all the retellings, I’m afraid,” Trixie replied. “Lucille tripped on the grand staircase over there. She fell and broke her neck. Harold was so distraught over the death of his beloved, he hung himself that next evening.”

“And how do you know this?” Carl wanted to know.

“I was late yesterday. For a reason. Even though there aren’t many people left here in Raven’s Hollow, a man named Guy Huntington still owns and runs the local newspaper. It’s been in his family for generations. He only publishes weekly now, and he’s never computerized anything, but kept a vault with extensive archives. He let me sift through the old papers, and I found plenty of articles recounting the actual events in the days after the tragedy happened.

“So… we have an old hotel with horrifying ghosts. We have the approaching fiftieth anniversary of a purported violent murder and suicide. The producers must’ve been ecstatic. It was perfect. Especially because the hotel’s abandoned state gave them the excuse they needed.”

“What excuse?” Peggy asked, glancing over to where the True Hauntings crew stood in a huddled clump.

“To send a crew out here two weeks before filming, under the guise of cleaning up the parts of the hotel we would be occupying, and making sure the overall structure was secure and safe enough. Which? As a side bar, let me just say those folks really did a good job with their cover. I never would have guessed the room Dan and I are sharing was empty and neglected for almost forty years.

“But they did something else, as well. You may not be aware, but there are passages behind the walls all throughout this building. They weren’t built so much for secrecy as to meet the conventions of a time when servants were supposed to stay out of sight of their employers and hotel guests. Along with running the newspaper, Guy Huntington maintains a website dedicated to the history of Raven’s Hollow. He’s included an interesting section where he uploaded some of the original architectural floor plans for the main governmental buildings, the school, a few homes, and this hotel.

“I’m guessing the True Hauntings production staff found out about these secret passages by studying the blueprints, just like I did. They realized they could utilize them to go from room to room without ever being seen. The crew used their time here before we arrived to map out a plan where they could hide in these passageways and try to scare the heck out of us. They brought in fans they would set off to blow drafts of cold air out the vents as we walked into a room or down a hallway, after specifically telling us the central air and heat aren’t working. They played CD recordings of everything from frantic whispering to sudden screeches and shrieks. And my personal favorite, I stumbled across an ice skate that could be scraped across a tile, imitating the sound of someone sharpening a knife blade. Clever touch, since poor Lucille supposedly died from dozens of stab wounds. I think that one was a ‘crime of opportunity.’ The skate was old and rusty. Someone probably discovered it here, left behind in a guest room, and came up with the idea.

“We were given to believe the construction crew cleared out before we arrived. At least four of them didn’t. They’re staying in a room in the west wing and using the passageways to move about, just like the servants did back when Raven’s Hollow was in its heyday. Since I had access to the passages, today I simply followed the footprints in the dust and found their room. This was just one of the many mistakes they made, literally forgetting to cover their tracks.”

“What else did they do wrong?” Carl asked, frowning thoughtfully.

“Well, there was the Curious Case of the Empty Vent, for one thing,” Trixie replied with a slight smirk. “The crew has cameras installed in the air vents, no doubt to capture footage of us in the midst of our wanderings, especially to get our reactions to their tricks. I’m sure the intention was to get cuts that could be edited into the episode, making this all seem much scarier than it actually has been.”

“Cameras?” Jeremy interjected. “Even in our rooms?”

“Yep. Even in our rooms.” Trixie reached out and thumped Dan’s arm. “See? I had a legitimate reason for closing our vent.”

“Did you check our bathroom, too?” he asked, wincing.

“Why do you think I made you wait before you took your shower? Don’t worry. You didn’t give anyone an unintended peep show.”

“You know… you could have just told me all this earlier. You didn’t have to keep me in the dark, too.”

She sent him a contrite look. “I am sorry. But I couldn’t be sure that there weren’t people listening in on everything we said. I knew where the cameras were, but that didn’t guarantee they didn’t have other recording devices hidden about. Plus, who knew where the crew was at any given moment. There could have been someone right on the other side of the wall any time we talked. I had to be careful not to give too much away.”

She looked over at the others and saw that the production team was looking both angry and guilty at the same time. None of them but Barry seemed able to meet her stern gaze. “Back to our story,” she said. “Last night, I discovered there’s a vent in the hall outside the kitchen that’s camera-free. I did consider at first the possibility that maybe they simply didn’t have enough cameras to go around, but then I thought of another reason. What if they specifically didn’t want to get someone on camera? This vent is directly across from one of the ‘secret doors’ that leads into the passageways. I’m betting this particular door was originally used by servants and hotel employees who fetched food from the kitchen to deliver to the guests’ rooms. What if there was a person or persons unknown using these passages, and using this door to get to the kitchen? And what if the producers wanted to make sure they weren’t seen and recorded? Remember what Barry told us? The raw footage is being streamed back to the studio. If someone at the studio who’s not in on this whole charade had seen someone here who shouldn’t be here? The whole game would be up.

“Still, I wanted to find something that would collaborate that theory. And I did. In the trash.”

“The trash?” Carl regarded her blankly. “You went through the trash?”

“Yep. In the dumpsters. I found a lot of junk food bags and whatnot, but also the remains of meals none of us were served. It confirmed my belief that there were other people still on the property. People we weren’t supposed to know about. It made sense. It really wasn’t feasible for these guys to be putting on a show behind-the-scenes while also taking center stage out here with us. There had to be more people about. Knowing that, I went on a hunt and found the room they've been sleeping in. It was my final bit of proof, even if I never actually caught any of them directly in the act.”

“Is this why you told me last night it wouldn’t matter if we tried to find out where the screams were coming from?” Dan put in. "Because you pretty much already knew?"

“Yes. I knew we’d never be able to get into the passages without alerting someone we were coming, and at that point, he or she would just take off and be long gone.” She paused to toss him a quick grin. “But that didn’t mean I wasn’t above threatening them with coming after them if they didn’t turn off those stupid sound effects CDs long enough for us to get some sleep.”

“Yeah. They were pretty stupid,” he concurred. “Like you said. Annoying. Not scary.”

“Exactly. But there was a point to all this. The main purpose to all these little acts of terror was to have us all primed for tonight’s brilliant performance.

“You see, this is where a certain bit of irony kicks in. Dr. VanHuis was invited to be a part of this episode because of his book that explains how people can be so very suggestible. True Hauntings wanted us to think they were trying to both use the professor as a legitimate source, being such a well-known and well-respected skeptic, but also that they were going to prove him wrong. They wanted us to think that they intended to debunk Dr. VanHuis, and not the other way around.

“But that’s not the truth. The truth is, the producers know, understand, and were taking advantage of the very things Dr. VanHuis wrote about. They started with last night’s dinner and the chef who deserted us after claiming he’d seen some kind of specter floating in the kitchen. I suspect that chef was merely some actor hired to play a role. The chandelier came crashing down, carefully timed to happen at a moment when no one would get hurt. We were then deliberately told to split up and ‘investigate’ various parts of the hotel. This was to build up our growing state of fear. There’s safety in numbers. Wandering around here alone was designed to be nerve-wracking. And none of us got a good night’s sleep, again by design. The noises that woke us up were meant to scare us, but also to leave us cranky, afraid, and exhausted today. All day, we’ve been kept at a heightened state of anxiety.

“Then we got this.” Trixie waved her hand around the lobby. “They had to be very careful. If they tried to use too many special effects tonight for the appearance of our ghosts, they ran the risk of having us see through their tricks.  So instead? They had a plan to combine several things in one pretty show. First? There’s a projector upstairs. It was going to ever so briefly flash an indistinct image that might just maybe could’ve been mistaken for Lucille’s ghost. Next, their ringer was supposed to see this ghostly spirit and scream, pointing it out to us right as it vanished. After that? It was all about that whole susceptibility business, probably helped along by a few more taped screams and whatnot. The idea was that we’d all have been so on edge and ready to see a ghost by that point, that we’d all swear we had, even those of us on Team You Must Be Kidding. Talk about great TV, huh?”

Dan slowly nodded. “So that’s why you wanted me to cut the power,” he mused.

“Got it in one. No electricity? No videos and no recordings to fabricate our ghosts.”

“And their ringer?” he asked. “You mean Damon?”

“Damon?” Trixie echoed. “Of course not. We’d naturally be suspicious of him. I’m talking about JoAnne.” She sent Dr. VanHuis an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, sir, but your teacher’s assistant was playing a major role in discrediting you and ‘proving’ this place is genuinely haunted. I guess you never knew she’s Damon’s stepdaughter? I’m betting she was even the one who suggested you for the show in the first place. Research, research, research. Or, in this case, Facebook. Damon’s page has a photo of his family at a party last year and JoAnne’s right there next to him and his wife. As soon as I found out neither of them had acknowledged the connection here and none of you knew about the relationship, it was obvious something was up.”

“JoAnne?” Dr. VanHuis exclaimed, clearly floored by the accusation. “This is true? This is all true?”

At first, it looked like the young woman was going to deny it, but then her expression shifted and she sneered at the professor. “For someone who goes around talking about how easy it is to manipulate people, you sure are way too trusting and easily manipulated yourself!”

Trixie looked over at Dan. “Cue the comments about us meddling kids… now.”

“And you!” JoAnne continued angrily, pointing one long finger at Trixie. “You’ve ruined everything!”

“Really,” Trixie said, still addressing Dan. “Do I know people or what? Maybe I should change my major to psychology, huh?”

Dr. VanHuis sank down on an ottoman, his face pale and drawn. “What happens now?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah!” Peggy cried. “What happens now? This is… it’s illegal what they’ve done, right? We should sue!”

Trixie sent the girl a measured look. “Drop the act, Peggy. You no more belong on the True Believers team than the professor does. I’m sorry you thought this was your big break, but I seriously doubt this episode will ever reach the air. You’ll have to find another way to launch your Hollywood career.”

Peggy’s mouth snapped shut and her cheeks burned a bright red. She collapsed back into her chair and dropped her gaze to the floor at her feet.

“Well, this sucks!” Richard declared vehemently, jumping to his feet. He ripped off his True Believers cap and threw it down. For a moment, he stared around the room, but then he spun about and stormed off. Trixie sighed quietly. She actually felt a bit sorry for the man. She knew he was both angry and embarrassed and she wondered exactly what he was going to tell all his blog followers in his next post.

The True Hauntings crew quietly unplugged and stacked their equipment, not speaking or meeting anyone else’s eyes. The others paid them very little attention, except to shoot them scornful looks and dark scowls.

“So now you know everything,” Trixie said. “As to what to do with the True Hauntings crew? I guess that’s up to each of you.” She rose and stretched her arms over her head. “I have one suggestion, though.” She turned and looked toward the dining room. “It’s okay, Guy!” she called. “You can come out now!”

An elderly man in a dark shirt and trousers appeared from out of the gloomy shadows beyond the reach of the lights. He held a small voice recorder in one hand and a camera in the other.

“Did you get all that?” Trixie asked.

“I sure did,” he told her with a wide smile.

“Good.” She turned back to the others. “This is Guy Huntington. Owner of the Raven’s Hollow Gazette. I called him this afternoon and invited him up for the big show. I’m sure he’d be happy to conduct some personal interviews. For any of you who want, you could probably get some real mileage out of telling people what part you played in the ultimate demise of True Hauntings in America. I’m betting this is one story that will get snatched up quickly by the AP. Me, though? I’m going to bed. Coming, Dan?”

“Who are you, Trixie?” Carl asked her curiously. “Really. Are you a cop or something?”

Trixie chuckled and shook her head. “Nope. I really am just a sophomore from Barin College. Oh, but Dan and I-“

“Are considering which one of us is going to apply to transfer to the other’s school next term,” Dan cut in quickly. He stood and took Trixie’s hand, squeezing her fingers gently. “Trix is originally from Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson, and I think she’d like to stay close to home. So maybe I’ll be a Barin man by next spring.”

“Oh, I hope not, Dan,” Dr. VanHuis said. “We’d hate to lose you.” He turned to Trixie and smiled softly at her. “But we’d love to have you as a new student. If you want to apply, I’ll speak to admissions personally on your behalf.” He looked over at JoAnne. "And I seem to have a spot open for a new TA. Traditionally, that's filled by grad students, but in your case, I'm willing to make an exception."

As they walked together to the wide staircase, heading for their room, Trixie leaned closer to Dan. “What the heck was that all about?” she asked him, keeping her voice down. “Why didn’t you tell them the truth? That we’re just friends?”

Dan tightened his hold on her hand. “Because I wasn’t kidding. If I can’t convince you to transfer to Hallingstone, then I’ll be applying to Barin.”

She stopped on the first stair. “Why?”

He shook his head, regarding her with a bemused smile. “Didn’t you just tell me how good you are with knowing people? How are you having such a hard time figuring this out?”

“Figuring what out?” she asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

Dan didn’t bother answering with words. Instead, he tilted his head down and covered her mouth with his. Trixie went completely still for a moment, but then she melted into him, sliding her arms up around his neck and returning his amazing kiss, wondering why it had taken them so many years to reach a point that she was suddenly positive was exactly where they’d belonged all along.

“Oi! Get a room!” someone called, laughing.

Dan pulled back and grinned. “Yeah. Lucky for us, we have one already. C’mon, Freckles.”

Linking his fingers with hers, he led her away.

The following morning dawned grey and rainy. There was no breakfast buffet waiting for them this time and it appeared the general consensus was that everyone was packing up and leaving as quickly as possible.

Trixie wandered out onto the stone patio off the dining room, staying under the cover of the overhang from the second floor. The valley below was lost in a heavy mist. Somewhere nearby, a lonely raven cawed. She smiled. Now that the weather was finally more suitable for a weekend of haunted horrors, of course they were preparing to leave.

“There you are!” a jovial voice called out.

Trixie turned and watched as Barry Kohn bounded up the steps to join her, seemingly oblivious to the light drizzle that had drenched his clothes and left his hair plastered to his head.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” he told her.

She stared at him incredulously. The producer was beaming at her, as if she hadn’t only the night before proved he was a fraud and utterly ruined his show.

“I want to pitch an idea at you,” he announced.

“I’m sorry?”

He held up his hands, smiling broadly. “Just imagine it. The newest hit reality show. You! We’ll follow you around as you solve mysteries all over the country. You’ll be a real life Nancy Drew!”

“Say what?” Trixie squeaked in disbelief. “Nancy Drew?”

“Oh! Whoa! You’re right. You’re right, of course. Forget Nancy. She’s totally last century. Last millennium. You’ll be the real life Veronica Mars! A sassy teen detective who-“

“There is No. Chance. In. Hell. that is ever gonna happen.”

“Think about it! Audiences will adore you! We can kick off the show with an episode about how you exposed True Hauntings here in Raven’s Hollow. We got all of that fantastic reveal last night. You were brilliant! Totally brilliant!”

“Please leave now,” Trixie said flatly. “Just go.”

Barry reached out and tucked a business card into her jacket pocket. “I’ll give you a few days to think it over. We can make you a world famous celebrity!”

With that, he stomped off, whistling off-key, entering the hotel through one of the open French windows.

“Well, he’s certainly… persistent.”

Trixie turned to the new speaker. “He’s unbelievable,” she said, rolling her eyes. “As if!”

Woody laughed softly and came to stand next to Trixie. “I’m glad I got a chance to see you before you left. I wanted to thank you. For everything.”

“You don’t owe me any thanks,” Trixie told her.

“Yes, I do. And Harry, too, but well…”

“Does he ever come out?”

Woody shook her head sadly. “No. He stays in our suite. I wish… I wish he would. I’m really ready, you know. To move on. But I can’t leave him here like this. He never got over it. The guilt. It’s trapped him here. When I tripped… it was because he’d bumped into me. He tried to catch me, but… I fell.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be. It was such a long time ago. At least these silly television people are leaving. I can only imagine what would have happened, if the story got out that Raven’s Hollow really is haunted. The hotel would’ve been crawling with curiosity seekers. And worse.”

“Probably,” Trixie agreed. “But you don’t have to worry about that now. Instead, it’ll be known as the old, rotting hotel that a once popular show tried to use to prop its ratings. Pretty soon people will forget all about it again and turn their attention to something else.”

“All thanks to you. We do owe you so much. I mean it. All these people running around looking for us, and you never once gave us up or away.”

“Well… that’s not why I was here. Dan specifically told me I wasn’t invited along to find evidence of ghostly spirits. He said the professor wanted me to find out what the True Hauntings crew was up to, and that’s what I did.” She grinned impishly. “Besides, it’s not my fault the True Believers can’t see what’s right in front of them. You’d expect as much from a bunch of skeptics, but I guess the believers really didn’t believe, either, eh?”

The strains of a familiar song reached them. Woody looked up toward the windows on the second floor. “I’d better get back to him. I took your advice, you know. I told him I’m not some shrinking violet afraid of every little thing, and he’s agreed I don’t need someone constantly protecting me from danger, but I don’t want him to start thinking I no longer need him at all. Good luck to you, Trixie. I predict a very bright future for you, my dear.”

“Thank you,” Trixie said quietly, as Woody drifted away. “Goodbye.”

“Trix?” Dan stuck his head out the window and looked around. “You okay? Were you talking to someone just now?”

“Ah… no one. I, um… you know. Just rambling to myself. Are we all packed?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.

“Yep. We’re good to go. You sure you don’t mind giving me a ride back to the campus?”

A suddenly shy smile crossed her features. “I’m sure. I’m glad we’ll have a little bit more time together.”

His answering grin lit up his whole face. “Me, too, Freckles.”

As they pulled out of the parking lot, Dan picked up a folder Trixie had left on the floor of the passenger side of her car. “What’s this?” he asked.

“Some print-outs and research. A couple of Xerox copies of some newspaper articles from the Raven’s Hollow Gazette.”

Dan flipped open the file and looked down at the top page. “Wow. Is that Lucille Moran? She was a real beauty in her time, huh?” He studied the photo for a moment, then read the opening paragraph aloud. “Mrs. Lucille Moran fell to her death late yesterday at the Raven’s Hollow Hotel. Daughter of Mr. and Mrs. John Woodson, Mrs. Moran was a life-long resident of Raven’s Hollow and active member of the community. Known to friends and family alike as ‘Woody’ –“ Dan broke off with a chuckle. “Woody? That’s an unusual nickname for a girl.”

“Isn’t it?” Trixie agreed with a small smile. “But it suits her, somehow.”

Dan looked at the picture again, his expression doubtful. “If you say so.” He glanced up at her. “We didn’t get any breakfast. I think I remember seeing a Denny’s off the expressway outside Raven’s Hollow. Sound good?”

“Works for me. I’m starved. The last thing I had to eat was that Movie Theater Butter popcorn. And honestly? It really kinda sucked.”

LEAVE RAVEN'S HOLLOW