“Get out.”
Trina turned her computer toward him. “Notice that the camera kinda fuzzes out at the same time, even though the camera mic didn’t pick up the sound.”
Casper saw the screen freeze, pixilating for a second. “Huh.”
“I found another one, too. Ben, you haven’t heard this one.” Trina spun the laptop toward her. After a few seconds of tape hiss and wind, a voice was heard.
Trina shrugged. “I don’t know what it’s saying. It sounds like twazette. Whatever that means.”
“Not twazette,” Ben faced her. “It’s French. Trois êtres.”
“Okay, twazette. What does that mean?”
“It means three beings, or three entities.”
Casper and Trina studied Ben for a moment. “Meaning the things on the EMF-whatever?” Casper asked.
Ben angled his head in thought. “Or the three of us.”
A chill ran up Casper’s spine as he recalled the sensation of being watched.
“That clearing needs to be studied,” Ben said.
“You can study it on your own time. We need to put a show together, and, sorry guys, but hanging out in the woods isn’t gonna cut it.” Trina ran her hands through her hair. “We need something spooky, some atmosphere.”
“Speaking of spooky,” Casper said, “Did you happen to get those coyote pups on film last night?”
Out of Trina’s line of sight, Ben’s eyes popped wide.
“No, I left the stuff in the car. I was too tired to move it.” She shrugged. “Might’ve made for some nice B-roll.”
Casper relaxed slightly, trying not to show it. Ben still held him with big eyes. He understood how close Trina had come to uncovering the local population of shifters.
“We still have some good stuff. Just need more meat. Hopefully, we’ll have something when the streaming networks get back to me.”
“You haven’t heard?” Casper said.
Her face dropped a little. “Not yet.”
“There’s this thing called a phone,” Casper said. “You can talk to people on it. Including people from streaming networks.”
“I’m letting my agent handle it.”
Casper frowned. “If this was my job, you better believe I’d be on the phone with them.”
Trina looked from Ben to Casper. “I guess it couldn’t hurt.”
Casper shook his head in disbelief. “I’ll let you two work. I got a meeting.
***
“You get rid of her yet?” Cheyenne filled a mug for him as Casper walked into the Squirrels Nuts.
He ignored Cheyenne, snarling at Sheridan. “What in the flying fuck are you doing letting your kids shift last night?”
Sheridan made a guilty face. “They’re kids. They’re smart. They got out.”
“Nice to know you’re not as smart as a three-year-old.” Casper leaned closer. “If she had a camera on her, she’d be one step away from outing us, you moron.”
His younger brother cringed. “For fuck’s sake, Cass, just kick her out of the damn house.”
“It ain’t that simple. She’s gotta have enough footage for her pilot. Until then, she’s just gonna poke around until she finds something.”
“So, Mr. Hollywood, what do you suggest?” Cheyenne shoved the mug to him.
“What she needs is an investigation.” Casper drained his beer in a few swallows. “So we’ll have to give her one.”
Laramie’s face turned thoughtful. “Sounds like you have a plan.”
“According to Trina, paranormal stuff happens a lot around remodeling.”
“Great. We ain’t doing a remodel, Cass,” Sheridan said.
Casper poured himself another glass and drank half of it. “No, we ain’t. But we do have a bid on one. The Carstairs’ bathroom. It’s a spooky old farmhouse. It’s perfect.”
“That’s been approved? Oh, sorry Mr. Hollywood, green lighted?” Cheyenne smirked.
“No.”
Three brothers let that one word sink in.
“You’re saying we do the remodel without approval?” Laramie said.
Cheyenne folded his hands around his beer mug. “And without pay.”
“What?” Sheridan went pale.
“We need her to go away. This is the way to do it. Starting today. Cheyenne and Laramie, get going on the demolition. Materials are on the way. Oh, and Sheridan, if you don’t keep a leash on your pups, I’m gonna kick your ass up to your shoulders. Are you with me, or what?”
To Casper’s surprise, they all gave him a determined nod. What the hell was going on here?
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Chapter Thirty
Ben had stitched together a rough edit of their investigation in the woods. “This is looking pretty good.”
“Oh, you betcha, I think so, too. What are we calling this show?”
Trina shrugged. “So far, it’s still called ‘Working Title.’”
Ben made a face. “Here’s another segment with some B-roll, the interview with the bikers, and your intro for the clearing.”
She looked over his shoulder, watching the segment roll. “We can use that.”
“We’re going to need an explanation of the EMF detectors. I’ll write out some cue cards and we can shoot it in the woods later.”
“Make sure you dumb it down. I don’t understand it as it is, and we need to make the audience understand.”
“Got it.” Ben clicked around. “We don’t have quite enough for an opening sequence, but we’ll use more outtakes as we shoot.”
Spooky rock music emanated from the speakers. Trina watched herself doing an EVP session, driving through the woods, moving around with a flashlight. In big, wavy letters, “Working Title” appeared on the screen as the music reached its conclusion. Ben shrugged. “Almost there.”
“We still need more meat.”
“I say we concentrate on the clearing.”
She shook her head. “The concept is interesting, watching it is boring. We have to have something better.”
Ben eyed her. “Like what?”
Trina raised her brows. “I don’t know. Something will happen. It always does. I’m starving. What do you want for lunch? On me.”
“Whatever’s close by with meat and French fries.”
Nothing was close by in Ripple, Oregon. “I’ll be back in a while.” Trina grabbed her keys and a jacket, noting the iron gray overcast.
On her way down the driveway, she heard footsteps following. High heels. Scarlet walked up behind her, a half-smile on her face. “Can I please talk to you for a minute?”
“I don’t really have the time, Scarlet.” Trina saw that she was wearing a light dress, white with a green print. It showed a lot of enviable leg and plunged at the neck to reveal more cleavage than the average office worker might. She really didn’t like Scarlet.
She tossed her hair. “I’m sure the Donut Girl has the time.”
Face warming, teeth clenched, she was about to let loose on the southern slut when Trina was shut down. Between her thumb and index finger, Scarlet held up a blue square. Trina recognized the missing memory card from one of her cameras, recognized the notation she had made on it in silver Sharpie.
“I don’t know how many ghosts ya’ll photographed, but this is sure interesting.”
Trina felt a sinking in her guts. “You were the one spying on us.”
“That’s right, sugar. I’m not sure the sex tape you and Casper made was accidental or intentional.” She looked at the little card. “Could be the next chapter in the Donut Girl saga.”
Rocked to the core, Trina couldn’t find her voice. She couldn’t stand another humiliating video circulating.
“You know what I want, right?”
Trina was able to shake her head.
“I want you gone.”
Brain still stalled, Trina couldn’t respond.
“I’m not completely heartless. I know you have your little project. So I�
��ll give you to the end of the month. Then you’re gone. On your way out, I want you to break Casper’s heart in a million pieces.”
Anger shouldered her fear aside. “So you can pick them up?”
“Who better?”
“He’s over you,” she said through her teeth. “Maybe you should get over yourself.”
Scarlet tossed her damned hair again. “We’ll see. In the meantime, how much money do you think I can make with the Donut Girl sex tape?”
Despite her frustration, her terror, Trina refused to tear up.
Slipping the data card in her bra, Scarlet sauntered back toward the house. “Or, I give it to you on your way out of town. Clock’s ticking, hon.”
***
The Carstairs place sat way off the road, the backyard a mossy forest. Casper estimated the place had been built in the early 1900s. It was well maintained, no sway to the roof, no sag to the front porch. Still, way out in the lonely woods, the house fit the bill. He thought it could easily be haunted.
“Locked,” Sheridan said, trying the front door.
As one, Casper, Laramie and Cheyenne folded their arms and gave him the stink eye.
Sheridan pulled out his key ring, fumbling through the keys until he found one that fit into the lock. He turned the handle to the right as he pulled the key out just a tiny bit. He took the hammer from his belt and tapped the key. After a few tries, it turned. He then stuck it in the deadbolt lock below and did the same. They walked in together, eyes in motion.
“I don’t see an alarm,” Cheyenne said.
Sheridan smirked. “Maybe we can suggest installing one.”
They tiptoed upstairs. Casper opened the bathroom door.
“Hello, 1987,” Cheyenne said.
There was no mold or cracked tiles and the room was clean. From the size and shape, Casper knew that this was once a bedroom, converted into a bathroom. The wallpaper was white with a silver fleur-de-lis pattern, the vanity trimmed with fake wood.
“Usual shower tub combo, floors feel solid, haven’t seen a pink toilet in a while,” Cheyenne made his inspection. He turned on the shower and sink, flushed the toilet. “Completely serviceable, just kinda ugly.”
“The widow wants a spa tub, a separate shower, that’s the hard part. New vanity, and a commode that ain’t pink,” Casper looked over the bid he had saved on his phone. “Carrera tile on the floor, mosaic in the shower, the usual.”
“Looks easy enough,” Cheyenne said.
“Except for the fact that we’re breaking in,” Sheridan said.
Laramie added, “And not getting paid.”
“She’ll be back in two and a half weeks,” Casper said. “We need to get it done before that.”
“That’s fucking impossible, Cass,” Laramie said. “This job would take three weeks minimum.”
Casper scowled. “You want Trina gone, this is the only way I can see to give her what she wants. Make it happen. Materials are on the way. Let’s get it demo’d and get it done.”
“Just bust into someone’s house and remodel their bathroom,” Laramie said.
Casper nodded. “Just like that. Let’s get the demolition done today. I gotta go keep an eye on Trina.”
“How long before the ghosts show up?” Cheyenne asked.
“No idea.”
Laramie shrugged. “You’re the boss.”
He felt their stares on his back as he walked out of the Carstairs’ farmhouse. After a moment, he heard the sound of sledgehammers and pry bars taking the bathroom apart. For the first time in his life, Casper felt like he was in charge. Of course, if they got caught, it would likely be the last time.
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Chapter Thirty-One
“Night Stalker!” Ben said in his announcer’s voice, continuing to edit segments.
Trina shook her head. “That was a serial killer, and a show with Darren McGavin.”
“Ghost Stalker!” he announced again.
“It’s been done.”
“Haunting Hunting! Or vice versa.”
“That’s just dumb.”
Ben pursed his lips. “So what are we gonna call the show?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. We’ll think of something.”
“Not to pry or anything, but you seem a little under-enthused.”
Trina rubbed a hand over her face. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
He continued to click at the keyboard, not speaking.
“It’s just this backward town. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of sponging off of Casper.”
The clicking paused. “I’m not much of a match-maker, but I think Casper likes having you around.”
“That can’t go on forever. I’m a celebrity. Celebrities don’t live in places like Ripple, Oregon. I’ll probably need to move closer to the streaming network, anyway.”
“Good luck with that,” Ben said. “They’re all in the Bay Area. It’s pricey down there. Not to mention that a startup streaming network isn’t going to be Hollywood money.”
“Maybe Seattle.” She stood, and moved to look over Ben’s shoulder. The segments looked fully professional. Of course, a bunch of hand-held and stationary cameras running on night vision could hardly look like anything other than it was. “We need more material.”
“We could more fully document the aberrations in the EMF by the clearing. We need some narration anyway, might as well shoot it on location.”
She thought for a moment. “I agree that we need the narration, but that could be a VO. What doesn’t work for television is that we don’t see anything when the EMFs go weird. We need visuals. Besides, we can’t say if going back out there would net us any more clips.”
“Yeah, but it wouldn’t cost anything.”
“Other than your paycheck,” she smirked. “Even a small budget would get us by. I’m getting by for now, but I don’t have that much in my savings account.
He shot a glance over his shoulder. “You don’t get money from the YouTube video?”
“Oh, hell, no.”
Quickly, he faced the monitor. “Not to be insensitive, but that thing’s had a million views. You should be making bank. You do own it, or part of it, don’t you?”
“I can’t post that! In this business, I have to be taken seriously.”
She expected an argument from Ben. It didn’t come. She walked back to her own laptop, idly checking her Snapchat account. “Don’t worry. Something good will come up.”
***
Casper arrived at his home office expecting to see Scarlet filing her nails. She surprised him, actually hunkered down and assembling some file folders.
“Materials for the Carstairs remodel on the way?”
She jumped as he spoke and whirled toward him, a hand going to her chest. “You scared the living daylights out of me!”
“Sorry.”
“Yes, they should arrive tomorrow.”
“Have ’em put it right on the trucks.”
She composed herself. “I’ll send a text, boss. And speaking of being sorry, I have to apologize for being such a bitch to Trina.”
Casper wondered what she was up to, but didn’t say anything.
“I know you really like her, I know it’s an impossible situation. There’s no reason for me to be so mean about it.”
“Might mean more if you said it to Trina.”
“Oh, we’ve already spoken,” Scarlet smiled. While the expression seemed genuine enough, he couldn’t help but see more behind it.
“Fantastic. I need to talk to her. Anything going on I need to know about?”
Scarlet returned to her filing. “Everything’s copacetic.”
Casper wasn’t sure he believed her.
Trina let him into the in-law apartment. He had to fight the impulse to take her into his arms and kiss her. Ben peeked at them over his laptop.
“I got some news. Marino Brothers is working on a remodel. It’s an old farmhouse; the owner is a widow,
Belinda Carstairs.”
Trina grabbed Casper’s arm. “And we can shoot there?”
Casper didn’t let his thoughts intrude on his features, either from the facts he was omitting, or Trina’s touch. “She’s outta town for a few weeks, so she won’t be in the way.”
“Has she experienced anything paranormal?”
“She hasn’t said. I haven’t met her in person, only through phone calls and texts.”
“Would she be willing to be interviewed?”
“I have absolutely no idea,” Casper said. “She’s been living here a few years, I think, but I’ve never even seen her around. Works somewhere else, I guess, and doesn’t drink at the bar.”
“Well, we can take a chance, I guess.” Trina led him around to view Ben’s monitor. “Take a look at what we have so far.”
Casper watched what looked like short pieces of a TV show. Some of it, he had shot himself, but with the editing and music, it had become more than just a few moments of video. “Looks good. Say, how long would it take for a ghost to appear once a renovation starts?”
“There’s no real timeframe,” Ben said, moving to another segment. “Lots of different theories.”
An opening sequence appeared, spooky music playing over shots of Trina doing different things. In wavy letters, a title appeared.
“‘Working Title?’” Casper asked.
“We haven’t come up with the name.” Ben frowned at Trina.
Trina rolled her eyes. “The best thing to do would be to check with the renovation crew, see if they have any experiences. That’s the best litmus test for a haunting.”
“Did you talk to the, whatchacallit, streaming people yet?” Casper asked.
Her face lit up. “I did, there were two that were interested. Both were really excited to talk to me. My agent says it started a bidding war. Which I don’t really need. I need a budget.”
“Still, that’s a good thing, right? If you didn’t call, maybe they’d be less interested.”
Trina’s expression turned thoughtful. “You could be right.”
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