Page 53 of Ghost in the Night

“Yup,” I say, dumping the bag on Robby’s bed. He inspects the equipment and immediately attaches the thermal meter to the robot.

“Did you talk to Asher yet?” he asks eagerly.

“No. But … I did talk to Maverick.”

Robby frowns. “And?”

I wonder if I should tell him. Admit that Maverick was acting sus and gave me the creeps. But I decide not to bring it up. It’ll only scare Robby, and I need him focused.

“Nothing. He said to trust our gut.”

“I gotta show you something,” Robby says, running over to his computer. “After you left, I started digging around, trying to find more on Orbs and More, and Asher. And I found this.”

He pulls up a clip on YouTube.

There’s Asher on a stage, dressed as a vampire. Fake blood oozes out his mouth, smoke swirling around him.

“What the … ?” I ask.

Asher breaks into song, waving his arms around like he did on the tour.

“The college he went to has a theater department,” Robby says. “Asher wrote this play. He wrote a bunch of plays, all with scary themes.”

A cast of characters joins Asher onstage, singing some song. Lights flash and flicker. Asher flings about, basically being his regular dramatic self. A girl comes onstage and he play bites her neck. She looks familiar, but I’m so caught up in Asher’s performance that I don’t have time to wrack my brain. But her acting is terrible.

“He said he was a film major,” I mumble, not taking my eyes off the screen. Mostly ’cause it looks so ridiculous. Others must have thought the same thing because the audience is practically empty. “He said he was working on a project that had everything to do with ghosts or something like that.”

“I know you believe in ghosts,” Robby starts, real nervous. “But maybe—”

The girl screams, placing an arm to her forehead as she faints, dropping to the floor.

The memory comes rushing back, taking my breath away.

“Wait!” I shout, tapping the screen. “Go back. Go back.”

Robby jumps, scrolling back, and I tap the screen again.

“That’s her! That’s the lady from the night of the tour.”

Robby frowns. “Huh? Who?”

“The blonde lady who said she got pushed. The lady who got a picture of a ghost! That’s her!”

It takes a moment for Robby to remember. “The woman who tripped on the crack?”

“YES!”

Stunned, Robby fast-forwards to the end of the play. The song ends, and the cast bows. The camera then zooms onto each face, displaying their name.

Asher Livingston.

Britney Preston.

I step back, a hand to my mouth. “Yo. They were working together, tricking people on ghost tours. We’ve been played.”

Robby watches me, his eyes screaming an “I told you so” stare.

“Okay, what now?” he asks.