“He doesn’t speak English?” I said.
“The networks were getting flak for only picking English speakers for reality shows. Apparently, it’s better to have non-English speakers standing there, lost and confused.”
“I see.”
“At least he’s pretty.”
I turned to Becky. “Get someone to grab Ricardo.”
ELEVEN
The final preshow step was splitting the cast into two groups, one to be led by me, the other by Gregor. It was supposed to be a random draw, but I’d texted my picks to Mike, who’d asked for them. Another concession to keep his star happy.
I chose Rory, Cameron, and Ricardo. Yes, Ricardo was pretty. Or I suppose he was, but I’ve reached that age where I see a hot twenty-year-old and a mental barrier leaps up in my brain, substituting “cute” for “hot.” As Rory said, though, he didn’t speak much English and seemed content to follow us around, listening intently. Kind of like a puppy. A cute puppy.
Cameron was a student at MIT, which gave him his token geek status. He didn’t know much about ghost hunting, but he obviously had a brain, and he was as quiet as Ricardo, so he seemed a safe choice.
Rory had pulled off the science clips with aplomb and seemed shockingly normal for someone who’d sign up for a reality show. Yes, I suppose it’s ironic that the Goth girl was the most normal one of the bunch, but in my experience they often are, which just might suggest that my normal is a little skewed.
I did feel kind of bad leaving Gregor with the twins and the jock, whose combined IQ wouldn’t hit triple digits. But I figured, if they asked stupid questions, he could always fake a language barrier and ignore them.
It wasn’t yet dark when the show began. It would have been smarter to tape in the winter, when night stretches longer, so they’d get more footage. That’s why they’d pretaped us meeting and entering the house last night. Now, they’d have us start in the basement and the attic, with the windows blocked out so we could pretend the sun wasn’t shining.
The twins had a little trouble with that concept. “But it’s still light out,” they wailed. “Ghosts won’t come out when it’s light.” Gregor made the mistake of trying to explain that real ghosts don’t care if it’s day or night. That only made them start grumbling that he must not be a real ghost whisperer. Which made me feel even worse about pawning them off on him. But not enough to offer to take them myself.
My team got the basement.
“Good,” Cameron said as we headed toward the stairs. “The attic is bound to be dusty, and I have asthma.”
“Of course you do,” Rory muttered.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cameron said.
“Only that I really wish they’d make their tokens a little less token.” She plucked at her shirt. “I don’t even like Poe. Dude was a druggie boozer who married his thirteen-year-old cousin. I came dressed in a Scooby-Doo T-shirt, but they thought that was too cute for Goth Girl.”
“Well, I do have asthma,” Cameron said. “These glasses aren’t prescription, though. They gave them to me.”
“I rest my case.” She looked back at Ricardo. “If you do speak English, go ahead. We’ll just keep it off camera.”
“¿Cómo dice?” he said.
She sighed and looked at me. “It was worth a shot.”
Our cameraman, Frank, waited downstairs to film our descent into the gloomy, musty basement. With him was Sal, our assigned crew guy. As we went down, I could see signs that it hadn’t been so gloomy or so musty before they’d gotten to it. Judging by the fine scattering of drywall dust, it’d been a nicely finished basement. Reverse renovation. Because a basement with a big-screen TV and a pool table just isn’t all that chilling. Unless you add teenagers and a full liquor cabinet.
They’d gotten rid of most of the lighting, too, leaving us sickly yellow bulbs with dangling pull cords. I didn’t even know they made those anymore. Quite impressive, really. It did add to the atmosphere. Even Rory shivered a little.
Ricardo pulled a light cord for us. It only made things worse, bringing the shadows to life. Then the light flickered and, with a pop, went out.
“Okay, that’s not creepy,” Cameron muttered.
Rory opened her mouth, doubtless to say they’d rigged it. My look silenced her. I nodded, though. Yes, it was rigged, but pointing that out would only get her on the fast boat off the island.
“It’s rumored this is where the killer brought his victims,” I said, shining my flashlight around the empty room. “Into the basement. Through one of those doors.” I pointed out each with my beam.
Yes, it was a basement, I thought. But not this one.
I mentally flashed back to the inn. To that room. The girl racing in. The blood. Her screams. Her pleas. The door slamming. The voice behind me.
Run.
“Ms. Vegas?” Cameron said.
I found a smile. “Sorry. I was just thinking about those girls. The tragedy of their passing. I hope we’ll be able to make contact tonight and assure ourselves they’re safe and happy in—”
A scream cut me short. Cameron jumped back into the wall. I followed the noise overhead, where it had now been joined by the thump of running footsteps.
“Already?” Rory muttered.
I motioned for her to keep it under her breath. The cameras were still running.
I started up the stairs. The door at the top flew open and Wade thundered down, the twins behind him.
“He saw something,” Wade said. “That ghost dude. He saw something in the attic.”
“It was right there,” one of the twins said. “That—” She looked at her companions. “That … whatever it was. Right there. With us.”
I glanced up to see Gregor coming down.
“It was nothing,” he said. “I did not mean to startle them. I thought I saw someone, but I was mistaken.”
“You talked to it, dude,” Wade said. “You, like, had a whole conversation with thin air.”
“No,” Gregor said carefully. “I heard a creak. I saw a flicker. I believed it was one of the crew. I said, ‘Yes?’ I turned. I was mistaken, and I apologized for that mistake.” He looked to me for help.
I laughed softly. “Okay, I think we’re all just a little nervous. This place is definitely creepy.” I cast an apprehensive look around for the cameras. “Maybe we should stick together for now. We’ll explore the basement.”
I shone my weak flashlight beam toward the doors. “As I was saying, it’s rumored that the killer brought the girls down to one of these rooms. We’re going to check each one tonight. Later, we’ll bring in the equipment. For now, though, we simply want to open ourselves up to the spirit world, let the girls know, if they are here, that we mean them no harm. Clear your mind and radiate peace and calm. Can we all do that?”
They all nodded. Rory arched her brows.
“Work with me,” I mouthed off camera.
She sighed.
There was nothing in the basement. Not surprising, since I’d conducted a little ritual out back earlier, warning any spirit bystanders that, if they bugged me during the taping, they’d be on my blacklist. And on Eve’s track-you-down-and-kick-your-ass list, which was much worse. I’d noticed a few outside already, hanging around. I assured them that, post-filming, they’d get an hour of my time if they made sure no other ghosts joined in. That was all the incentive they needed to play spook security for me. So, my haunted house was ghost free. Just the way I like them.