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with all my power to pull her attacker through—to no avail.
    Then it started anew, with the first victim. That time, I concentrated on trying to make contact with the attacker, to get him to speak to me. Still nothing. She died, the second girl returned. I asked her questions, begged her to reply. She didn’t. She looked right at me. She tried to get me to hide with her. But she wouldn’t—or couldn’t—answer me.
    “I need you to talk to me!” I said, as she faded. “I can’t help unless—”
    “You can’t help.” It was a man’s voice behind me.
    I turned. “Show yourself.”
    His laughter fluttered around me.
    “Who are you?” I said.
    No answer.
    “What am I seeing?” I said. “What did you do down here?”
    Silence.
    “Are you showing me this? What do you want?”
    “Run,” his whisper snaked past, raising goose bumps on my arms.
    “You’re a ghost,” I said. “I don’t run from ghosts.”
    His voice, right at my ear. “You will.”
    I stumbled back in spite of myself.
    “Help me…”
    I looked down to see the first girl, on the floor, lifting her hand.
    “Help me…” the girl from the Fifties appeared beside me, both hands reaching for me.
    As I backed away, the cleaning girl whispered behind me. “Help me…”
    “Help us,” all three said, all reaching for me, their hands covered in blood. “Help us or join—”
    The doorknob rattled. I staggered away from the dead girls and pushed into the far corner. A crack, then the door flew open, light flooding through, and all I saw was a figure silhouetted there and I pushed back into the corner—
    “Jaime?”
    I ran into Jeremy’s arms.
     
    …
     
    The natural first question, on finding your girlfriend locked in a basement room, would be, “How’d you get in there?” or at least, “What happened?” Jeremy just held me until I got myself together. Then I told him the whole story.
     
    When I finished, I walked over to the door and looked at it. “It was just jammed, wasn’t it?”
    “We should go upstairs,” he said after a moment.
    “The door. It wasn’t locked, was it? And don’t lie to make me feel better. There is no lock. I can see that.”
    “Then the knob was jammed, because I had to break something to get in here.” He walked over and put his arms around me. “You were trapped in here, Jaime. Don’t tell yourself you made a mistake. And don’t tell yourself those were residuals, either.”
    I nodded, but said nothing.
    “Residuals don’t talk to you,” he said.
    “They didn’t talk to me. They talked at me.” I paused and shook my head. “I don’t know what they were. Maybe they were residuals and I’m just under a lot of stress and—”
    “No.”
    “It’s a new show and I—”
    “No.” He took my chin in his hand and titled my face up to his. “You have never hallucinated in your life. I don’t have an explanation for what you saw, but you saw something.”
    “Can we stay somewhere else tonight?”
    He chuckled. “We can absolutely stay somewhere else tonight. In fact, I insist.”
    I paused.
    “No,” he said.
    “I was just—”
    “There’s nothing here for you to do and you’re not going to feel guilty about leaving.”
    “Maybe I should try to contact any spirits—”
    “I’ll have Elena research past crimes connected to this inn. If we find anything, we can come back after the show and you can attempt a proper summoning. After the show. You saw three victims spanning almost a century?”
    I nodded.
    “I’m not even sure how that’s possible, but it means we aren’t dealing with a serial killer who’ll strike in the next three days. You can walk away.” He met my gaze. “Guilt free.”
    I kissed him. “Thank you.”
     
    …
     
    “Is it haunted?” Mike asked as he followed us down the front inn’s steps.
     
    I threw a look over my shoulder.
    “Okay, okay,” he said. “There’s no such thing as ghosts. But that could be why you’re checking out. We could say