Page 34 of Ghost in the Night

Maverick’s eyes almost twinkle, and he nods to the fountain behind us. “This is Johnson Square, the place of one of the most famous ghosts in all of Savannah—Little Gracie Watson. Gracie was the six-year-old daughter of a hotel manager. Gracie had free rein of the hotel that stood in this square, which has since been torn down. She was beloved and known for entertaining guests. She died tragically of pneumonia in 1889. Her distraught parents commissioned a lifelike marble statue of Gracie for her tombstone in Bonaventure Cemetery, where people leave gifts and tokens. But here, in Johnson Square, many report seeing a little blonde girl in a white dress walking up to people on benches and saying hi or running around the bushes, giggling. And she only comes out during the day or at twilight.”

A shiver runs down my back. The three of us slowly turn, scanning the square, seeing if we can spot Gracie hanging out. But the square is silent. Too silent.

“Ghosts do come out in the day,” Maverick says. “You probably walk beside them without knowing. But at night, it’s quieter, less noise pollution, and we as humans are moreperceptive to our surroundings. So, if you want to hunt for ghosts, they’re more likely to be found in the night.”

Maverick collects the rest of the equipment and taps his watch.

“Time’s up. Happy hunting!”

I glance at his bag. “Hey, wait! Can we, uh, borrow this equipment from you?”

Maverick wiggles his eyebrows. “Sure. But it’ll cost you.”

I take a deep breath. “How much?”

ELEVEN

Twohundred fifty dollars?! That man is insane,” Myah blusters over her chicken sandwich in the print shop as Robby uses her computer to do research. “I’d need a one hundred percent guarantee that stuff  is going to work before giving him that kind of money, even if I did have it, which I don’t.”

I bite my lip, thinking. How am I going to come up with that money without raising any red flags? If  I ask Dad, he’ll probably say something to Lena, who will freak out and dead this whole operation altogether.

“Maybe we don’t have to rent everything Maverick showed us. Just one or two things,” I suggest. Even though I still can’t imagine that man cutting us a deal. He seems overpriced and real full of himself. “Y’all don’t got any money at all?” I ask Myah.

She shakes her head. “You see me working in this store for free! There’s gotta be some child labor laws against this.”

“Most of my competition money goes into buying new parts for my robots or Mama puts it in a savings account for college,” Robby adds.

Wait! I have a savings account! My grandma set one up for me with some birthday money I got when I was ten. I’ll ask Dad for it. Tell him I’m buying new camera equipment, which isn’t a total lie. I’ve been telling him I want to do this photo stuff for real. He’ll get it. He’ll understand!

“Find anything yet?”

Myah’s voice snatches me out of my thinking, and I glance down at the Google page open on my phone. Even with the ghost equipment, we still need to follow all the tips Maverick gave us. That means learning everything we can about that house.

“No. Nothing in any newspapers,” I say. “But this archive I found only goes back to the late 1850s. Maybe the house is older than that? The only things I see are other hauntings that happened in Calhoun Square. But nothing at the house itself. No mention of the Myers.” I click on another website and read it. “It says here that Calhoun Square was laid out in 1851. It’s the only square in Savannah with all of its original buildings still around it. It also served as a burial ground for slaves.”

The ancestors won’t let anyone have peace after being wronged, I think to myself and shiver. If something happened to Tim Truman there, he would be one of many ghosts haunting that square. He might be stuck there, forever.

Myah stares far off at nothing.

“Hey, you good?”

Her mouth twitches. “I’m just … thinking about Jabari. I feel so bad for his mom and brother. My daddy printed more flyers for them this morning. I hate that I can’t help them. If we can reach Mr. Truman, maybe he can tell uswhat happened and we can help them find Jabari and bring him home.”

I reach a hand out to touch hers. “We’re gonna get some answers, Myah. Trust me.”

She sniffs with a nod, then picks up her sandwich again.

Without thinking, I grab my camera and take a photo of her to cheer her up. All my friends back home love it when I take candid shots. But I left the camera setting on automatic. The flash pops, and it’s like a strike of lightning blinding us all. Myah reels back with a yelp.

“Oops! You okay?” I ask.

“All I’m seeing is white,” she squeaks.

“My bad. The flash is kind of bright.”

“That thing is a weapon,” she says, rubbing her eyes.

“Hey, look what I found,” Robby says. “It’s a blueprint of the house.”