Tyson continues speaking to the camera as he steps out of my grandmother’s bedroom and over to the door to the third floor, just a few strides away. He points at Dad’s new addition. “As you can see, a large combination lock has been attached to this door. That’s because this door leads up to the third floor, the location where both Theresa and Kerry recorded one of the most amazing apparitions we’ve ever seen. How remarkable are their recordings?” He prompts the ponytail guy to zoom in on the lock. “Well, right after Theresa’s father saw them, he immediately secured the door with this.”
What a joke. That’s not why Dad put that lock there. He’s never seen those recordings. I think about the little ghost and the room it wanted me to see.
At this point, Tyson calls Dad forward and Billy introduces him to the audience. “Mike, would you be so kind as to remove the lock for us?”
Billy motions him toward the door.
With a nervous smile to the camera, Dad shuffles over. After a few spins, the thing drops open.
“Thanks, Mike.” Billy Joe moves to open the door, but Dad stays put, smiling into the camera until the bald cameraman waves for him to get out of the away.
And Billy was worried about us kids.
With a stiff nod, Dad finally steps aside.
Billy Joe takes his place, and pulls open the door. “Here we go,” he says dramatically. “Up to the forbidden third floor.”
Billy flips the light switch on the wall outside the door and leads the way up the stairs, followed by Tyson, me, Kerry, the two cameramen, and Dad. It’s weird seeing everything so well lit. It all looks so normal. Once the whole group shuffles out onto the large space at the top of the stairs, Tyson asks me to explain what we saw.
“Right over there is where the ghost appeared.” I point at the empty space between two closed doors. “It started out about the size of my fist, but then it grew.” I notice I’m hugging myself and look at Dad. He’s standing against the wall, arms crossed tight across his chest.
“Obviously, you were both very frightened,” Tyson says, positioning himself between me and Kerry. He wraps his arms protectively around us. “Kerry, tell us what happened next?”
She looks into the camera. “So, like Theresa said, it was a ball, but it grew. We were recording it, and it formed into a . . . a . . .”
“A torso?” Billy Joe suggests.
Kerry bites her lower lip. “Yes . . . a torso.”
Tyson’s eyes sparkle as Kerry retells our story. That ghost scared Kerry and me to death, but Tyson looks like he can’t wait to see it.
“Theresa, what happened next?” Tyson asks, his mouth hanging open.
I step back toward the stairs. “We were standing right here, filming, and it started to move.” My gaze shifts back and forth between the two cameras. “It came right toward us.”
Tyson’s lips pucker. “Oooh, I’ll bet that was scary. And then what happened?”
“It moved over there.” I point. “And passed right through that door.”
“Whoah!” Tyson winks at Billy, then smiles at one of the cameras. “Scary stuff, huh? Now, let’s turn off the lights and see what mischief Billy and I can stir up.”
“And cut,” the bald cameraman shouts.
“That was perfect, girls.” Tyson gives us each a high five. “When we get back to the studio, Erin will edit your parts into the rest of the show. It’ll be awesome.”
The crew starts back down the stairs and Billy Joe motions for Kerry and me to join them. “Now comes the fun part.”
CHAPTER 29
WE STEP BACK into the living room where Joey’s still sitting with Erin at the folding table in front of the two computers. They’re both wearing headphones, but unlike Joey, Erin has a wire-thin microphone winding down the side of her face.
Again, everyone starts fiddling with their equipment. The two cameramen switch the regular lights for infrared spotlights. Billy Joe and Tyson check the batteries on their gear and pull night-vision goggles from one of the cases stacked behind Erin. Now, with the help of the infrared equipment, they’ll all be able to move through the house in complete darkness.
Kerry bends down to whisper in my ear. “Maybe we’ll get to wear some of those goggles too.”
“Oh, heck yeah. That would be cool.”
With all the preparations going on, Kerry and I are left on our own, so I speak out. “What do you want us to do?”
Billy Joe interrupts his conversation with the two cameramen and turns to answer, night-vision goggles perched on his head like some evil scientist. “What we need you to do now is to stay here in the living room. You can sit over there with Erin at the command center and watch what’s happening on the computer screens.”
“Aw!” Kerry’s shoulders sag. “I was hoping we could go along with you.”
“Me too,” I say, trying not to sound too whiny.
“Sorry girls, but you know we never take non-Ghosters on our explorations.”
I offer Billy my best puppy eyes. “What if we promise we’ll be super quiet?”
Billy shakes his head no and herds us in the direction of the folding table. “Sorry, but ghosts don’t like crowds. Stay with Erin and your brother. I promise you’ll be able to see everything really well on those two monitors.” He turns back to the cameramen. “Like I was saying, we start in the basement and work our way back through the house, leaving the third floor for the end.”
Kerry and I stand there like dummies until Dad waves us over to the three empty chairs that have been set up behind Erin.
“You invited them here,” he mutters. “Do what they say.”
He’s right. I should shut up, be satisfied that the Ghosters are finally here. Still, it would be fun to tag along.
Once the crew disappears into the kitchen, Erin turns off the remaining lights, leaving the house completely dark other than the soft glow of the computer screens. Kerry pulls up a chair next to Erin, and I scooch in between Erin and Joey. Outside, rain batters the covered porch.
Erin glances at my dad. “Mister Martinez, I have one more chair. Don’t you want to watch the monitors?”
He shakes his head and sits down on the sofa a few feet behind us. “Looks a little crowded. I’ll just sit back here and listen. I’ll be close enough . . . if there’s something to see.”
We drag our chairs up closer to the table, and Erin hands us each a pair of headphones, Dad included.
“Why two computers?” Kerry asks.
“Since there are two cameramen,” Joey jumps in before Erin can answer, “she needs a monitor to watch what each of them is filming.”
I give Erin a crooked smile. “Guess Joey asked you lots of questions, huh?”
She nods, gaze bouncing from one screen to another. “You could say that.”
The monitors are large and the pictures are super sharp. Black and white like the full-spectrum camera I’d used to record the ghost. I stare at the screen, amazed. It’s really happening. The entire crew of Ghosters is actually here in my house, shuffling down the stairs on their way to explore our basement.
Through the headphones, I hear Billy Joe’s voice as he calls into the darkness. “We’re looking for Teresa’s Grandma Carmen. Is she here?” On one of the screens, he and Tyson pace around, looking a bit silly with their night-vision goggles. Once they get to Grandpa Joe’s workshop, they notice the pink tricycle lying on its side in the corner where I’d pushed it. The camera guys film the creepy little thing from every angle.
“Does anyone hear me?” Tyson calls. “Please make a sound. Knock if you can.”
Nothing happens. They check out the rest of the basement: the laundry area, the freezer, even the place where we found the dead raccoon.
“I’m picking up a reading on the EMF,” Billy announces in a loud whisper. After a minute or so, he locates a metal box attached to the wall and frowns into the camera. “It’s only the fuse box.”
I look at Kerry and sigh. To my surprise, the Ghosters don’t
leave. In fact they stay down there a half hour more before giving up.
“I’m surprised they spent so much time down there,” Joey says.
Erin, chuckles as we watch the Ghosters team trudge up the stairs. “That’s what everybody says. The show’s an hour long, but most of our explorations take four or five hours. I edit out the boring stuff back at the office.”
Once the Ghosters get to the kitchen, they peek into the pantry and poke around in the cupboards. As far as I know, the only thing that ever happened there was the business with the brownie mix. Still, they spend twenty minutes trying to get a ghost to turn on a flashlight before coming back to the main staircase.
Tyson peeks into the living room before starting up the stairs. “Don’t worry, girls. We still have lots more house to see.”
Their next stop is Grandma Carmen’s room. Billy opens the wardrobe. When nothing happens, they decide to get aggressive.
“You know what?” Billy says in a loud voice. “I’m tired. I think I’m going to lie down on this bed for a while.” He stretches out on the bed, hands clasped behind his head.
“Me too,” Tyson says, and without warning he takes a running leap and lands hard enough on the bed that Billy grabs hold of the headboard to not bounce off.
Joey gasps. “He’s lucky he didn’t break it.”
“If that ghost really is your grandma, that had to tick her off,” Kerry says.
I smile, thinking of what my own mom would have done if she’d caught me doing that.
Tyson and Billy lie sprawled on the bed, all the while calling to any ghost who might be up for a chat. Nothing happens, and one of the cameramen passes Billy something black, about the size and shape of a coffee mug. He turns it on and the thing starts to hiss and crackle, the kind of noise you hear when switching from one radio station to the next.
Billy shows it to the camera. “This is called a Spirit Box.”
We can barely hear him over the noise.
Joey yanks his headphones off and rubs his ears.
Back in Grandma Carmen’s room, Billy continues with his explanation. “A Spirit Box uses FM radio frequency sweeps to generate white noise,” he says, raising his voice to be heard over the static. “Theories suggest that these boxes give spirits energy so we can hear them speak.”
“Carmen Ramos, are you here?” Tyson says, practically shouting. “Come out and talk to us.”
“Yeah.” Billy Joe laughs. “Come in here and push Tyson off the bed. That was very disrespectful of him jumping onto it like that. Come and teach him a lesson.”
Again nothing happens, and Billy gets up and squirts some of Grandma Carmen’s perfume around the room. “Mrs. Ramos, you have excellent taste. If you don’t want me wasting your perfume, do something. Show us you’re here.”
After that, the static cuts off for just a second, and we hear a murmuring sound. For a moment, everybody gets excited. It might be a woman, but it’s garbled, and nobody can make out the words. After that, no matter how much the Ghosters beg, nothing comes of it.
Was that Grandma Carmen? Why the heck didn’t she talk to them? I scowl at Kerry, and she scowls back just as hard.
The next room the crew enters is right next to Grandma Carmen’s. It’s a sewing room. My mom sewed a little too, but Grandma Carmen had tons more sewing equipment than she did. Cameras scan shelves crowded with plastic containers. There are also quite a few stacks of cardboard boxes, making it tough for the men to move around. Monitor one shows that the bald cameraman is standing back, while on monitor two, the ponytail guy weaves in and around the stacks.
“Whoa!” Ponytail shouts. His camera image bounces as he leaps back, surprising everyone.
Holy crabs! Was that a headless woman?
“What was that?” Kerry shouts.
My gaze leaps from one monitor to the other.
Upstairs, the crew bursts out laughing. The view from Ponytail’s camera suddenly does a nosedive. We see shoes, a flash of the wall. It settles down, and we discover that Tyson has his arms wrapped around someone. I hold my breath as he wrestles her out of the corner.
“Just a dress form,” he announces.
The bald guy’s camera shows us a grinning Ponytail, his chest still heaving from the shock.
I lean back in my chair, heart pounding.
“It’s like a mannequin,” Tyson explains as he poses with the half-dressed headless figure. “Seamstresses use them for fitting clothes.”
Once they’re all tired of teasing Ponytail, Tyson tries the Spirit Box again. Nobody answers their questions, so they try the other rooms. Sadly, the ghosts aren’t feeling chatty.
After another hour of disappointment and frustration, the group heads toward the door to the third floor.
“Looks like a bust,” Tyson mumbles.
I reach behind Erin’s chair and give Kerry’s hand asqueeze.
She squeezes back. “It’s not over yet.”
CHAPTER 30
AS THE GHOSTERS shuffle through the doorway, Tyson starts his narration again. “We’re heading up to the third floor now. It was at the top of these very stairs that Theresa and Kerry took the amazing footage that got them into this competition.” He backs up the stairs, talking to Ponytail’s camera the whole way. “At first their apparition was a sort of cloudy ball, but it soon developed into a full torso with a head and two arms.” He reaches the top of the staircase. “And it all happened . . . right . . . here.”
The Ghosters try everything they’ve got: the spirit box, the flashlight trick we were going to use in Grandma’s wardrobe, as well as some new doodads I’ve never seen before. None of their equipment shows the least bit of activity.
“This sucks,” Kerry groans. “Our recordings were real. What’s the matter with that ghost, anyway?”
“Heck if I know.” I look from one computer monitor to the other. What if it’s too scared to show itself?
At the sight of Tyson and Billy wandering around the third floor, I remember the lies Dad told us about how damaged the floors were. Ever since he caught us up there, I’ve been afraid to ask about it. Now, the Ghosters have given me a burst of courage. I turn, barely able to see him even though he’s just a few feet away on the sofa.
“Hey Dad,” I call out. “Why did you tell us the third floor was dangerous? It looks fine.”
He shrugs and stares up at the ceiling. “All I know is what your grandfather told me.”
Dad’s answer sounds rehearsed. I remember the night I’d spied on him from the darkness of the back stairs. Maybe I should challenge him, tell him how I’d seen him rub his hand on that door as if some lost love was trapped behind it. But I can’t. It’s the wrong time and the wrong place. With my little blast of bravery all fizzled out, I turn back to the computer monitors.
Tyson is standing beside the claw foot table and turning in slow circles. “Okay. There are four doors. Let’s see what’s behind them.”
To my shock, Dad suddenly tears his headphones off and dashes around to the other side of the folding table. There’s a walkie-talkie next to Erin. He snatches it.
“Tyson, do you hear me?”
“Yes, Mike, I hear you. Is there a problem?”
Dad steps off into the shadows on the other side of the room, but I can still make out the conversation. “I thought you were just going to explore the places where the girls experienced something. You never said anything about going into the other rooms.”
“That’s true, Mike. We didn’t plan on entering those rooms, but since we haven’t gotten any activity so far, we figured we might as well check out the rest of the place. You want to win the contest, don’t you?”
“I’d really rather you didn’t go in there,” Dad says in a lowered voice.
Does this have to do with why he yanked me back from that door before I could open it? “Why can’t they look?” I ask from across the room. “The floors are safe.”
Dad pulls the radio away from his face. “Please, Theresa, stay o
ut of this.”
But I’m not staying out of it. I stride across the room, and he moves away from me as he continues his conversation.
“Tyson, I don’t want the crew going into any more rooms, do you understand? Make them come back downstairs.”
But Tyson won’t give in. “Mike, if you’d read the contract more carefully, you would know that you’ve given us permission to access every part of this house. So, after driving half way across the country, we’re going to check out those other rooms.”
“Tyson . . . please.” Dad’s voice is strained. “You can try going down to the basement again.”
“Sorry. Been there, done that.”
Even in the darkness, Dad sounds desperate. He’s been hiding something, and now it’s about to come out. Is that what I really want?Feeling more than a little guilty, I watch as he glares at the radio, then over at me as if he’s trying to decide on something.
“Fine. Do what you want!” he barks into the radio.
I flinch. Yelling at people he barely knows is not Dad’s thing. Maybe I’ve pushed him too far.
I take a step back as he comes at me. To my surprise, he’s not angry anymore. It’s like shouting at Tyson has drained all the fight out of him. He looks down at me, his eyes dark hollows in the gloomy light.
“I should have known you’d eventually find out,” he tells me. “Why couldn’t you just do what I said and stay away from there?”
“But, Dad, I did this for you. I thought you’d be proud of me if we—”
“Proud? Of you going behind my back, of tricking those people into coming here?” He rests his hand on my shoulder. “Be careful what you wish for, Theresa.”
Not sure what to do, I stand there, lip quivering. What have I gotten myself into? Weighed down by guilt and confusion, I follow him back to the command center.
The monitors show the Ghosters have already stepped into one of the rooms. There’s nothing there, just old curtains and dusty hardwood floors. The next room is pretty much the same. The third is a storage closet. Antique vacuum cleaner, old lamps, boxes. Again, no ghosts. Nothing to earn us that prize money. Nothing that would explain Dad’s weird behavior. But what about the room the ghost wanted me to see? Always looking for drama, the Ghosters have left that one for last.
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