by Kathi Daley
“If the ghosts you sensed do reside in the house does it mean they died there?” Trevor asked.
“Not necessarily,” I answered, “but ghosts are most likely found in places that have meaning for them. Where they died or perhaps where they lived while alive. Based on what Caleb told me, my first guess was that we’re dealing with Mr. Weston’s ghost, although my sense is that our ghosts were murdered, and Caleb said he was pretty sure he died of natural causes. I can’t know for certain who or what we’re dealing with until I make contact, which I hope to do tomorrow night. You in?”
“I’m in,” Trevor said. “Should we head over right after the game?”
“There isn’t any reason to show up before Caleb and his volunteers are done for the day. The game is at five, so you should be done by eight. We’ll grab a bite to eat and then go over.”
Chapter 3
Friday, October 20
Thanks to Mac’s help the previous evening, and the fact that I’d stayed up late studying, I managed not only to pass my history exam but to do fairly well. A bonus to the late night of studying was total exhaustion and a dreamless sleep, providing relief from the nightmare for the first time in weeks. Four hours of uninterrupted sleep did wonders for my mood and energy level, so it was a happy and alert Alyson who met Mac in the library during lunch hour to work on Chelsea’s stalker problem.
“I looked at all the photos Chelsea forwarded to me,” I informed Mac. “None of them seem threatening in nature and so far, the photographer hasn’t crossed the line into the perverted. The settings where the photos are being taken are getting bolder. Initially, all the photos were at school or of school-related activities, but the more recent ones were taken while Chelsea was at home.”
Mac studied the information I’d given her. “It looks like the emails were sent from several different computers, which is a little odd, but all the computers are at the school.”
“Do you know which computers?” I asked.
“Not offhand, but I can find out.”
“Okay, what about the email addresses the photos were sent from?”
“They were all sent from student email accounts, but from different ones.”
I frowned. “You mean Chelsea has more than one stalker?”
“No, probably not. What I’m saying is that the stalker has access to multiple student accounts and is using a different one each time a photo is sent.”
“But how? Every time you send an email from your account you need to log in with your student ID and personal password.”
Mac bit her lip as she studied the screen. “Either the stalker is a highly skilled hacker or has access to that information. My money’s on the latter, although if I wanted to, with enough time and the right equipment, I could hack into the student accounts. I’m not sure there’s anyone else at school with the skill level to do that, however, and no, I’m not the stalker.”
I laughed. “It never occurred to me that you could be. Not only do I trust your integrity but I know for a fact that you wouldn’t want to spend that much time following Chelsea around. If the stalker has access to the student IDs and passwords it must be a staff member.”
“Perhaps, although the thought of that has escalated things on the creep-o-meter by quite a lot.”
I felt a shiver crawl up my spine. An adult stalker was a whole other ball game as far as I was concerned. “Is there a way to find out who might have accessed this information?”
Mac tilted her head. “Perhaps. I can look around a bit, but it’s going to take longer than we have right now.”
“Okay, so what about the texts? They all look to have been sent from the same phone number. Maybe we can trace that more easily than the emails.”
Mac turned in her chair and began typing commands into her laptop. “Does Chelsea have any idea why her stalker has been spending what appears to be an enormous amount of time following her around?”
“She doesn’t know. So far there haven’t been any threats or demands associated with the photos. In fact, Chelsea said there hasn’t been any correspondence at all other than the photos. If I had to guess I’d say the photographer is working up to something.”
“What do you mean?”
“At this point the stalker is simply establishing the fact that Chelsea can never know when she’s being watched. Whoever it is wants her to feel exposed and vulnerable, and it seems to be working. Chelsea told me she’s taken to keeping her bedroom blinds closed at all times, but that hasn’t stopped the photographer from taking photos of her in other rooms of her house.” I sorted through the photos and pulled one up. “See, here she is at the dining table with her parents. The front of the house is clearly visible as well, so the photograph had to have been taken from a vantage point outside the window. The photographer could have been in her yard, but it seems more likely he was across the street or in a parked car on the street. The photo is of good quality, so I’m going to guess the photographer has a professional camera and a very expensive telephoto lens. There’s no way these photos were taken with a cell phone or some small portable camera.”
Mac studied the photo. “Even if this was taken from a car the photos taken of her on campus would have to have been taken from a nearby location. It seems a person carrying around some huge camera would stand out. I wonder if we ask around if someone will remember seeing someone at school or near Chelsea’s house with a camera like that.”
I continued to sort through the photos I’d printed out, dividing them into piles based on location. “I guess it couldn’t hurt to try. Unless you can trace the cell, which will lead us to the person who forwarded the photos to Chelsea. Now that the idea’s in my head that the stalker could be a member of the staff I think I’m going to talk to Chelsea again about telling her parents what’s going on.”
“I agree with you, but knowing Chelsea, she won’t want to go there unless she has to. Her dad is a town council member and her mother is involved in a lot of charities. They both have social standing, and I can see that she wouldn’t want her situation to become common knowledge. Besides, maybe Chelsea knows more about what’s going on than she told you. Maybe she suspects who the stalker is and just wants us to prove it.”
“You think so?”
Mac lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know for certain, but if someone was following me around I’d be majorly concerned. Chelsea just seems to see the whole thing as an annoyance.”
I considered that. “When I spoke to her she tried to put on a brave face, but I could see she was scared. I didn’t get the feeling she had any idea who was behind the photos. If she did she’d most likely handle it herself rather than ask for a favor from me.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s a good point.” Mac continued to work at the computer while we spoke. Eventually, she sat back and looked at me. “I have good news and bad news.”
“Okay. What’s the bad news?”
“The texts were sent from an unregistered burner cell.”
“And the good news?”
“If given enough time I may be able to track down where the cell was purchased, and if we can isolate the right information, we may be able to track it back to the person who purchased it. Unless, of course, they paid cash, and most stores don’t keep records of cash transactions. Either way, I’ll need better equipment than my laptop to do it. I’ll try to find time while I’m at my internship, which I really need to get to.”
“Okay. Thanks, Mac. I’ll pick you up after school and we’ll go to the game together.”
******
The Seacliff High Pirates were currently tied for first place in their division. If they managed to secure first place they’d be in the state finals for the second year in a row. Trevor was the star quarterback for the team and, as such, a candidate for Chelsea’s unwanted affection. I used to think her pursuit of Trevor was based on deeply felt personal emotion, but I’d come to realize that the object of her desire was more often than not whoever was on top of the Seacliff
High social hierarchy at any given moment. Unlike a lot of jocks, Trevor didn’t seem to care about being überpopular. In fact, he didn’t seem to care what people thought about him one way or another. Still, his skill as a football player, combined with his boy-next-door good looks and his total disregard for social standing seemed to make him all that more desirable to the female students at school.
As head cheerleader, Chelsea was busy getting ready for the big game, so I decided to try to track her down when the game was over but before Trevor, Mac, and I headed to the haunted house for our meet and greet with the resident spooks. At least I hoped it was a meet and greet. I had sensed the presence of at least one spirit but suspected there were two or more. I just hoped that most of the decorating crew had vacated the premises by the time we arrived so the ghosts would come out of hiding and make themselves known.
“I want to grab a corn dog if you’ll get us seats,” Mac said after we paid for our tickets and entered through the front gate of the football stadium.
“Okay. I’ll head for our usual section.”
“Do you want anything from the snack bar?”
“Maybe just a Diet Coke. If I can’t get our usual seats I’ll have to see what else I can find. If I have to move I’ll text you where I am.”
“Okay, great. Hopefully we’re here early enough to beat the crowd.”
It was more than an hour until game time, but the stands were already almost a quarter of the way full. I knew from experience that by kickoff it would be standing room only. This was a big game against the competitor with whom we were tied for first and today could very well determine the likelihood of the Pirates being division champs. I knew Trevor was both excited and nervous and hoped with all my heart that he and the team would have a winning game that would move them to the number one spot alone.
Luckily, the seats Mac and I preferred, at the top of the bleachers and away from the cheerleaders, were still available, so I slipped into one and set my jacket on another. The air was crisp and cool now that autumn had officially descended upon us. The hill behind the football field was densely planted with vine maples, aspens, pines, and scrub roses, providing for a colorful display of reds, oranges, and yellows mixed among the green from the pines. I’d sat back to enjoy the beauty of the hillside, which was why I happened to see the brief flash of light as the sun reflected off something hidden among the trees. I narrowed my gaze and focused on the spot where I’d seen the flash. If I were a stalker intent on taking photos of Chelsea as she led the cheers for the game, setting up camp in the shelter of the dense woods would be a perfect location, if I happened to have a telephoto lens and didn’t need to get close to the action.
“Whatcha looking at?” Mac asked after she handed me my soda, moved my jacket, and sat down beside me.
“I saw a flash of light over there on the hill. I thought it might have been the sun reflecting off something.”
“Like a camera?”
“Exactly like a camera. The problem is, with all the trees I can’t really see anything, and by the time I walk all the way over there and climb the hill the photographer, if that’s what I saw, will have seen me coming and be long gone. I wish I had binoculars.”
“Maybe someone brought some. I’ve seen spectators with them from time to time. Let’s keep an eye out.”
I continued to stare at the spot where I’d seen the flash. On one hand, the hill was the perfect place from which to gather shots unnoticed; on the other, once the sun went down the photographer would need to use a flash, which I would think would give away their location. I suppose the photographer could have special film or a lens that would allow them to take photos in the dark. I didn’t know all that much about photography. I realized it was equally as likely that the flash I’d seen had just been a reflection off a piece of metal on the ground, or even a discarded soda can. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to figure this out without getting up and traipsing across the field and up the hill, so I decided to relax and enjoy the game. I turned and looked back to Mac. “How’s your corn dog?”
“Really good. Want a bite?”
I shook my head. “No, thanks. I’m saving room for dinner. I’m sure Trevor will want to go to Pirates Pizza and I always overeat when I go there.”
“I bet a lot of the team will show up there. I hope it won’t be too crowded; we did promise Caleb we’d check out the house tonight.”
“Caleb said he’d be there until nine or ten, so I’m sure any pranksters, human or otherwise, won’t show up until after that.”
“I’m kind of surprised Caleb didn’t take a night off to come to the game,” Mac said. “He’s usually a big supporter.”
“This is his last Haunted Hayride at Seacliff High. I think it’s important to him to go out with a bang after four years of working on the event. He’s spending all his free time at the house, which I guess I understand. There’s a lot still to do and Halloween is only a little more than a week away. I’m sure he’ll come to the home games in November and the championship series, if we make it that far.”
“We will.”
“Oh look, here come the cheerleaders.” My eyes returned to the hillside where I’d seen the flash of light despite my decision to relax and enjoy the game, but the sun had moved and I wasn’t sure whether even if there was a photographer on the hillside the sun would create a reflection. “Any luck tracking down the burner cell?”
“Not yet. I was pretty busy at the office today and didn’t have time to work on it. As for the school staff members who have access to the list of student passwords, there are only three: the principal, the computer lab teacher, and the school’s IT guy.”
“That’s it? Just three?”
“That’s it in an official capacity, but we both know the principal’s access may extend to his secretary, if he needed help with monitoring, and the computer teacher’s to subs. The fact that each student creates their own password provides an illusion of privacy, but the fact is, enough people have access to those passcodes that anything sent or received via those accounts should be considered open to public scrutiny. I think we’ll need something more specific to go on if we want to track the hacks to a specific person.”
“What about the times the photos were sent?” I asked. “Were they all sent during school hours or were some sent on weekends or after-hours?”
Mac frowned. “I didn’t look at that. I will. I guess if some of the photos were sent from a computer housed at the school after hours it might narrow down the suspect pool. Other than the janitor and the principal, I’m not sure who might have a key to the building, but I guess we could find out.”
“Do teachers have keys?” I asked.
“I don’t think so, but I don’t know it for a fact. I’ll look in to it on Monday, if we haven’t wrapped this up by then. Oh look, here come the guys.”
Mac and I both stood up and chanted Trevor’s name. He looked pretty fine in his uniform. Sometimes I had a hard time reconciling my goofball friend, who was overly fond of his own dumb jokes, with the man on the field, who not only took charge of this team but the game as he led the Pirates to one victory after another.
In the end, the Pirates won by a touchdown in the final minutes. Trevor was on top of the world and everyone wanted to congratulate him, so by the time we left Pirates Pizza and made our way to the house we believed might be haunted it was well after ten.
Chapter 4
“I hope we didn’t miss the show,” Mac said as we chose a room to use as home base.
“I didn’t notice any new graffiti or vandalized props, so if the human intruders plan to show up they haven’t yet arrived. As for the living-impaired visitors, should there be any, I have the feeling it’s early yet.”
“Did we bring snacks?” Trevor asked.
“You ate almost an entire large pizza yourself,” I pointed out.
“I know, but I’m a growing boy. If you want me to be alert for spook patrol I’m going to need snacks.”
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br /> “I brought an entire backpack full of your favorites,” Mac said.
Trevor smiled and dug into the bag, coming up with cookies and a cola. I’d known Mac and Trevor for over a year now, and in that time neither had said anything that would lead me to believe they were more than friends. In fact, both had been involved in other relationships. Still, Mac seemed to anticipate Trevor’s needs to what seemed to me to be an extreme degree, and he seemed to anticipate hers as well. Now, the fact that they seemed to be hypersensitive to each other could simply be the result of a lifelong friendship, but there were times, like now, when I wondered if their feelings ran deeper than either admitted.
“This place kind of gives me the creeps,” Mac said after we settled in. “When we were here during daylight it wasn’t so bad, but I didn’t realize how dark it would be tonight.”
“Caleb has portable lights that are powered by a generator; he moves them around with him when he works here at night. I don’t think we should use them, though, because we want to attract any nocturnal guests, not scare them away,” I said. “The battery-powered lanterns should be fine, but if we need more light for some reason Caleb showed me how to run the generator.”
“Okay, so what do we do until the spooks show?” Trevor asked as he dug around in the backpack for more snacks.
“I’m thinking we should do a sweep of the house every sixty minutes unless we hear something and then we can react to the stimulation at that time,” I suggested. “The sweeps will only take about ten or fifteen minutes, so we can just hang out in between.”
