Page 72 of Real Fake Hauntings

Key and Natalia let out fake sounds of dismay.

“What happened to Banston?” Natalia asked.

“Nobody knows, but the gravestone keepers found him hanging from that tree, utter horror contorting his face!”

The skeleton cackled loudly, and I jumped again. Maybe I should’ve taken a better look at the script.

“Scared, are you?” Ian whispered as we moved on.

“They’re good.”

“That they are.” He didn’t bother hiding the pride in his voice.

“For someone who wanted no involvement in this tour business,” I teased, “you sure seem very invested.”

He shrugged. “I’m just watching.”

“Like a proud alpha.”

He scowled. “I don’t have a pack.”

Smiling, I patted his arm. “Sure thing, alpha. You haven’t told me why you’re all dressed up.”

“I had a business meeting before this.”

Must’ve been important for him to ditch the jeans. “Rich people?” Preston betraying Alex and going to Ian directly? “Anyone we know?”

“A local historical housing association.”

I gasped. “They want you to help with a historic building?” When he nodded, I hugged him tight. “That’s great, Ian. Congratulations!”

He smiled faintly. “We’ll see. I’d be working with restoration experts, so it should be an interesting project.”

“There she is,” Brimstone exclaimed, pointing at a spot in the distance. Another spotlight clicked on, illuminating a statue. A female figure dressed in a nightgown covered in blood and a dark wig dusted with spiderwebs jumped from behind a statue to the cheers of Key and Natalia. The figure gave us a thumbs up, took on a dreary gait as she walked around a few nearby graves, then got back behind the statue.

“Good job,” I shouted, cupping my hands. “Jim doesn’t know what he’s missing!”

“That’s right,” answered the figure.

“I’m glad Alex invited his friends,” I told Ian happily. “This is fun.”

“It better be,” he grumbled.

The spotlight turned off, drenching the graves in darkness once again. We moved on, and Brimstone pointed at the group of oldest graves surrounded by three weeping trees artfully illuminated by another spotlight.

“Aww,” I said dreamily. “Such good memories.” They were the oldest graves in the cemetery, and Ian had allowed me to take some dirt from around them to vanish the ghost in my bathtub. The reminder doused some of my happiness. Somewhere here was Crane’s body, and I still was no closer to discovering his murderer nor figuring out if leaving Crane in my shop, and possibly drawing the pentagrams, was the start of something bigger and more sinister.

“What is it?” Ian murmured, feeling me tense.

I checked Natalia and Key were out of hearing distance and lowered my voice. “I’m worried I’m missing something about Crane and the pentagrams. Do you think anyone has noticed he’s missing yet?”

“Nothing I’ve heard yet. I’ll talk to Wyatt after this.”

That would help, I told myself, trying to raise my spirits. I still had leads, and Ian was helping out. We’d catch this bastard.

“The bodies of one of Olmeda’s founding families are buried there,” Brimstone said. “They?—”

The spotlight illuminating the graves clicked off.

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