Brandon cleared his throat and said, “See you later, then.”
She offered a quick wave and that was that. Brandon climbed into the Neon and carefully pulled away from the Bates. Logan watched him turn left toward the highway and made a mental note of it. Either he was making a trip into the city or he was heading out toward the lake. Toward the cabin.
Behind her, Alejo cleared his throat. He stood in the doorway of room eight dressed in a plaid robe, shoulder-length hair still wet from the shower. He motioned to the curb she squatted on. “That looks comfortable.”
“It’s great.”
“You could make more of an effort.”
Logan arched a brow. “To what?”
“Your dad just tried to have a conversation with you, or did you miss that?” Alejo leaned against the doorframe. “He’s trying. You could try, too.”
“Me and him are fine.”
“Logan.”
“What? Sorry I’m not super talkative all the time. I hate it here. I just sit around with nothing to do.” Logan took another sip of coffee and stared out at the soft glow of the horizon. This wasn’t usually how she talked to Alejo—this ire was usually reserved for homophobes on her dads’ Twitter page—but she was tired of this. She was tired of being treated like she was the unreasonable one when she was being lied to and shut down left and right. She was tired of being the bad guy.
Alejo shifted. “I get that you’re bored, but you don’t have to sit around all day. You could apply for schools.”
“To do what?”
“I don’t know. You like history,” Alejo said. “It’s probably too late for fall term, but you could still get in for spring. I loved college. You might learn a lot about yourself.”
“I already know all about me.” Logan leaned back and closed her eyes. “And besides, I’m on my gap year.”
“Jesus,” Alejo said, covering his mouth to stifle a laugh. “Why don’t you come inside for some coffee?”
Logan raised her mug. “Already got some.”
“Let me rephrase—come inside. We need to talk.”
Logan pushed herself up from the curb and followed Alejo inside. Where she’d at least made an effort to humanize her room, Brandon and Alejo had seemingly done the opposite. The walls were bare, beds clean and precisely made, motel toiletries untouched. It was the kind of room she’d seen in crime shows when a secret agent wanted to fly under the radar. They’d been at the Bates for almost a month, and Brandon had been here even longer.
Something was off.
Alejo pulled out a seat at their window-side table and motioned for Logan to sit. “I’m just making a pot. You want a refill?”
“Uh, sure,” Logan said. “You guys are keeping it super clean in here.”
“Yeah, well…” Alejo slid into the seat across from her. The sunlight was copper over his face. “I lived in this motel my whole life before I met your dad. I’m not exactly thrilled to be back here. This helps me remember it’s temporary.”
“Oh,” Logan said. “I didn’t know you lived here here.”
“I told you Gracia is mi tía,” Alejo said. “When I was a kid, this motel was mostly us Ortizes. Me and my parents lived on the other side of the motel.” He looked around. “I don’t remember if anyone lived in this one. Might’ve been empty back then.”
“Wait.” Logan’s brow furrowed. “Do I have more family here?”
Alejo’s expression was wistful. “Ah, well, my parents moved away from Snakebite a long time ago. I don’t know where. They didn’t tell me. But Gracia is our family. Elexis is your cousin. Nice to know we’re not totally alone, right?”
“Wow…” Logan trailed off. “What about on Brandon’s side?”
“Not anymore, I don’t think,” Alejo said. “His dad used to run a boat shop here, though. He taught my brother’s algebra class before he retired. It’s funny—me and your dad were actually in the same grade all through high school but I didn’t get to know him until I came back from college.”
He said it casually, but it was clear that before college was a different world from after. She’d never given much thought to her fathers’ lives before her. She couldn’t imagine what it was like for them in this town all by themselves for so long.
She finished off her cup of coffee. “You wanted to talk about something?”
“Right.” Alejo poured himself a cup and refilled Logan’s, but his expression was cautious. It was measured. Something made him nervous. “I haven’t talked about it with your dad because it’s a touchy subject, but I was catching up with an old buddy the other day and he told me you made a new friend…”
“Ashley?”
“I assume so,” Alejo said. “Ashley Barton.”
“Yeah. We’re not friends, though.”
“But you spent all day with her?” Alejo asked.
“Who was monitoring us that closely?”
Alejo waved a hand. “That doesn’t matter.”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No, just … help me out,” Alejo said. He pressed his fingertips to the bridge of his nose. “If you and Ashley aren’t friends, why hang out with her?”
“Because there’s, like, four kids my age in this town?”
“Yeah, well, if she’s anything like her mother, I promise there are better choices.”
Logan laughed. Alejo had always taught her that if she wanted the truth, she had to give the truth. People only owed you honesty if you were honest. So she shrugged. “We’re hunting ghosts.”
“Are you serious?” Alejo stared at her like he didn’t understand. This shock was different from his overdramatic TV persona.
“Yeah. Weird stuff’s been going on in Snakebite. Since you guys never tell me anything, I figured we’d get some answers on our own.”
“Since when do I not tell you things?” Alejo asked, indignant.
“Okay, why are we here?”
“We’re location scouting for the show.”
Logan rolled her eyes. “And what case are you investigating?”
“Your dad already told you. You’ve noticed the weirdness here. Strange weather, dark omens…”
“I didn’t realize you guys were meteorologists.”
“If Ashley wants answers, she can ask her mother,” Alejo said. He pressed his fingertips against the table, doing his best to hide his disdain. “I don’t think Tammy Barton loves anything more than the sound of her own voice.”
“What about my questions?”
“Ask away.”
Logan took a deep breath. “Does the investigation have anything to do with Tristan Granger?”
“Who?”
“The missing kid.”
“Listen,” Alejo said. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know how it is in the early days. It might have something to do with the missing kid, it might not. You know that we never have much to go on at first. It’s an investigation show.”
“Well, your timing isn’t great,” Logan said. “Now everyone thinks you guys had something to do with it.”
Alejo frowned. “What else did you want to ask?”
“Right.” Logan almost wished she’d brought a notepad. She cleared her throat. “Uh, ghosts … what are they?”
Silence, and then Alejo laughed. He covered his mouth to hide a smug smile, then quickly sobered. “I’m not laughing at you, I’m just … how many years have we been doing the show? You know what ghosts are.”
“Real ghosts.”
Alejo gasped. “I don’t like what you’re implying.”
“The stuff you guys hunt is…” Logan cleared her throat. “I just wanna know what the real thing is like. If there is a real thing.”
Alejo looked into his mug. This was always his reaction when she talked skeptically about the show. To date, Logan couldn’t tell if this was embarrassment at his TV antics or frustration that she questioned it. Probably both. No matter how ridiculous it was, Alejo seemed to truly love the show.
; But loving the show and thinking it was real were two different things, and the things Ashley saw in the cabin were different from anything on ParaSpectors.
Alejo looked up. “Real ghosts aren’t the kind of thing you put on TV.”
“You’ve seen one?”
“I mean … yes? It’s hard to explain without sounding like I’m making it up.” Alejo let out a gentle breath between his lips and looked out the window. “I’ve been able to see them my whole life.”
Logan blinked. Not only could Alejo see ghosts—he’d been able to see them the whole time. The tightness in her chest wavered from anger to awe. She pushed her empty mug around the table. “So the ghosts on the show were…?”
“The ghosts were real. In a way.” Alejo tapped his fingers on the table. “Everywhere we went had real ghosts, but that’s not a bad thing. Everywhere does. Real ghosts don’t hurt you. They don’t need to be exorcized. They’re hardly even sentient. They’re like … feelings. Or memories. I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“There’s not really a guide on how it works.”
Logan shook her head. “And all the gear?”
“The gear is real … to an extent.”
“What do ghosts look like?” Logan asked, careful not to betray too much of her excitement. Maybe Alejo had meant it when he said you could trade honesty for honesty. He’d never talked about ghosts this plainly.
Alejo’s hands were tight around his coffee mug, knuckles pale against the speckled ceramic. He crossed his legs and leaned forward like this was some kind of campfire story hour. “I don’t want to freak you out.”
“I don’t get scared.”
“You never did.” Alejo’s smile was only a flash before his expression darkened. “The ghosts I’ve seen are more like impressions left by the dead. Like a captured moment. It’s not always visual. Sometimes it’s a smell, or a voice, or a feeling. It’s hard to describe.”
“What do they do?”
“Not much, honestly. From what I can tell, they only really appear if they’ve left something behind. No one wants to stay here if they can move on. But if they weren’t ready or they’re not quite gone yet, that’s when they show up. It’s like they’re reaching back, asking for help the only way they can.”
“Can Brandon see them, too?” Logan asked.
“No. I don’t know why people can or can’t see them. I’ve met a few other people who could. Usually they’re not big fans of the show.” Alejo gave an uneasy laugh. “But, no. Your dad can’t see them.”
“And living people?” Logan asked. She traced a circle in the carpet under the table with her toe. “Did you guys ever see a ghost for a person that’s still alive?”
Alejo narrowed his eyes at that, lips pressed in a flat line. Logan wondered if she’d overstepped now—if she’d gone too specific. Maybe he’d seen Brandon’s ghost at the cabin, too. Maybe he was involved in all of it. He gently set his mug on the table, skepticism melting into a soft frown. The way he looked now was almost mournful.
“I don’t have a for-sure answer. We know that spirits are made of unresolved pain that lingers somewhere between life and … beyond. Theoretically, I’d say pain that leaves a deep enough impact—pain that kills a piece of a person—could leave ghosts, too. Ghosts are death, but maybe death can mean different things. I don’t know. If pain is the measure, I promise Snakebite is full of ghosts.”
Logan sucked in a sharp breath. They’d never kept secrets from each other. At least, she’d thought they didn’t, but now it seemed like Alejo was made of secrets. Just like Brandon. A part of Logan wanted to tell him about what she’d seen at the cabin. But she couldn’t shake the creeping fear that he and Brandon had something to do with all of this. That whatever Brandon had done to cause the ghost in the cabin, Alejo was a part of it. Maybe there was a simple explanation, but maybe there wasn’t.
Her curiosity curdled into fear. She emptied her mug with one swallow. “Was there anything else we needed to talk about?”
“Your dad.” Alejo tentatively smiled. “He says you two had fun shopping the other day. Your room looks great.”
“Yeah, it was fine.”
“He’s trying,” Alejo said. “I know things can be … awkward. And the show hasn’t helped. Just try to cut him some slack.”
Logan nodded. “That’s everything?”
“I guess so,” Alejo said.
Logan checked her phone. She swiped open a series of texts from Ashley:
ashley b: party tonight at the cabin
ashley b: learned some stuff from my mom
ashley b: maybe we’ll see some ghosts
ashley b: kidding
ashley b: we should actually investigate though
ashley b: i’ll pick you up at nine
Logan smiled at the screen. She turned to Alejo and pocketed her phone. “I guess I should tell you I’m going to a party tonight?”
Alejo raised a brow. “A Snakebite party?”
“Yeah, at this abandoned cabin. It’s very on-brand creepy for me.”
Alejo’s expression steeled. It wasn’t just the party, it was the location. He did know about the cabin.
“It’s not a party party,” Logan continued. “It’s a gathering of friends.”
“All your good Snakebite friends?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“The same friends that decorated our wall?”
Logan’s stomach clenched.
“Actually, I’m taking Nick and Elexis from next door. They’re my new friends,” Logan said. “I’m helping Nick build a computer.”
“You’re helping him?”
“Okay, I’m watching him build a computer. My moral support means a lot to him.”
“You’re responsible,” Alejo sighed. “I know you’ll be fine. Just … make sure you have a way home. Don’t stay out too late. And if you need help, please call me.”
“I will,” Logan said. She hesitated. “Dad?”
Alejo looked up.
“Thanks for telling me. About the ghosts and all that.”
“Oh. Well, you know you can ask me anything.” Alejo took a long drink of his coffee. “Have fun at your party.”
15
The Cabin In The Woods
“You’re kidding.”
Ashley killed the engine on the Ford and slumped back in her seat. She’d expected to pick up Logan singular at the Bates on the way out to the cabin. She hadn’t expected Logan to emerge from the Bates with a duo of creepy nerds that she had apparently befriended in the last week. Even after twelve years of going to the same school, Ashley doubted she’d ever spoken a word to either Elexis Carrillo or Nick Porter. They were just the guys who always smelled like Cheetos and Red Bull in math class and she was not walking into the cabin with them. As they climbed into the back seat, Logan leaned into the passenger-side window with a wine-colored grin. “Hope you don’t mind I brought a plus one. Or two, I guess.”
“Where’d you find the strays?” Ashley hissed.
“Don’t be a bully,” Logan said.
Ashley leaned across the truck and whispered, “I said you were invited.”
“And I decided I didn’t wanna hang out by myself with a bunch of people that write slurs about my dads.” Logan shook her hair from under the collar of her jean jacket. “Besides, you should be nicer. They have nothing but nice things to say about you.”
Ashley grimaced.
Logan, Elexis, and Nick all climbed into the Ford and Ashley got a good look at the three of them. Logan looked like a character from a movie, dressed in a short black dress with a denim jacket and a face full of makeup. She was the type of person who arrived in a limo, not a thirty-year-old truck. Ashley suddenly regretted not explaining what these parties were like. They weren’t even really parties. A feeling somewhere between awe and embarrassment welled in Ashley’s chest.
“Thanks for the ride, Ashley,” Nick said from the back seat.
“Yeah, thanks A
shley,” Elexis echoed.
Ashley pried her grimace into a forced smile. It’d only been thirty seconds and her truck smelled like Mountain Dew. Elexis Carrillo wore his signature gray beanie and a flannel that was too tight for his arms, probably because he’d been wearing the same one since middle school. Nick Porter was in a hoodie with the Captain America shield in the center. He looked at her longer than she was comfortable with.
“Uh yeah, no problem,” Ashley said.
“Elexis,” Elexis said. He gestured to Nick. “This is Nick.”
Ashley’s smile was tight. “I know your names.”
“Oh, you all hang out a lot?” Logan asked with no attempt to hide the sarcasm in her voice.
“Not really,” Ashley said. “But you two are always welcome.”
“We were never invited,” Nick said, matter-of-fact.
Logan gasped. “The drama.”
Ashley shot Logan another warning look. She was sure Logan had just invited them as revenge for being left at the Chokecherry, which Ashley guessed was fair. But still.
Logan returned her look with a knowing smile. The stabbing yellow light of the motel sign made the shadows on her face deeper and darker, blending into the sharp wings of her eyeliner. Her hair was down tonight, straightened to her shoulders, and Ashley was struck again by the otherness of her. Logan Ortiz-Woodley wasn’t the kind of person who ended up in Snakebite. She wasn’t the kind of person you’d find slouched in the worn passenger seat of Ashley’s truck.
“You’re staring,” Logan said.
Ashley turned the ignition and the truck rattled to life. “You’re making me look underdressed.”
“I don’t think so.” Logan glanced at Ashley’s legs, then pulled down the passenger-side mirror to wipe away a stray bit of lipstick. “Your shorts are cute.”
Ashley smiled. She’d gone with her standard fare: a black tank top, denim shorts, and a flannel around her waist in case they ended up outside. She mostly thought of it as practical, but Tristan had always said she looked cute.
Guilt knotted in her stomach.
The Dead and the Dark Page 10
