Page 35 of Real Fake Hauntings

“I will,” I said softly, letting him know of my feelings. “Good night.”

“Sweet dreams.”

With that, he hung up.

I sighed contentedly and closed my eyes. Ian wasn’t a man of many words, but he knew how to use them. It was one of his best qualities.

My phone dinged. Ian had sent a picture of Fluffy with the caption “She misses you too.”

Was he trying to kill me with sweetness? Goodness, but he was too much.

And what would happen if one day he wasn’t there to make my heart burst with joy and happiness with moments like these? What if... My gaze drifted to Grandma’s spellbook lying on top of the dresser.

Just touching the edge of that idea squeezed my heart so hard it hurt.

No. Immediately wiping the thought from my brain, I refocused on the photo on my phone, told Fluffy I missed her too like she wasn’t a series of pixels on my phone, then concentrated on the pentagram problem with renewed determination.

Seeing half the crowd with their phones out on the way back home had given me an idea. In this day and age, security cameras might not be that important.

Grabbing the laptop, I searched for Olmeda live street cams. A few of the bars in Guiles and Romary were broadcasting live views of the crowds outside, but that wouldn’t help me. After a few more minutes of searching, I hit paydirt. A restaurant by Bosko’s had a webcam pointed down the street at his shop and, more importantly, the corner of the block.

“Success is found down unexplored roads,” I declared for the benefit of any ghost who might be listening.

All the buildings in Bosko’s street were old and lovely, the lamps made of iron in an old style to match the mood, and the variety of shop types contributed to the quaint atmosphere. Being so close to Balton Square also made it a great spot to crowd-watch.

I clicked on the stored video for last night and skipped until about half an hour after Bosko closed his shop. The street was still busy, so I skipped a bit more.

Looking up the controls, I figured out how to make the video play faster, then settled in to watch the night unfold.

At about one thirty in the morning, when the streets had become empty even by non-Halloween standards, a figure darted from around the corner, something in their hands.

I paused the video, then replayed it at normal speed. The corner was a bit away from the camera, so the image wasn’t the best when zoomed in, but I was certain the figure was carrying some sort of black bag.

I noted the time on my phone and kept watching. A few other suspicious people also turned the corner, but none of them carried anything in their hands. The rest were drunks or couples clearly on a night out.

Going back to the first suspect, I studied them more carefully. The bag could definitely contain some sort of container for the blood and a paintbrush.

Or last night’s dinner.

Still, there was something about the figure that gave me pause. Something about their face, even this grainy, didn’t make complete sense. I fast-forwarded until another person appeared in the video in the same spot, and I had no trouble telling the overall appearance of their features.

Which was proof my suspect had used a glamour potion.

Heart beating fast, I went back to the figure and took about a dozen screenshots, zoomed in and out. They were wearing a bulky dark blue or gray hoodie and a baseball cap. It was impossible to guess their gender, but they were on the shorter side, so maybe a woman or a teen. Not all full-grown men were tall, though, so that wasn’t much to go on.

I followed the suspect’s trip from around the corner, across the street, and out of view. It was unfortunate they hadn’t parked right on the street and left some more clues about who they were via vehicular identification.

That also spoke of it being a teen and the pentagrams being silly pranks.

But the human blood didn’t fit.

From my experiences with teens, they were all too ready to play around, but not too eager to intentionally harm themselves for it.

Glamour potions were also on the expensive side. No teen would waste their money on that.

I stared at the suspect, my excitement overflowing. This was a great start. I now had a photo, and perhaps someone would remember the clothes. It was late now, and my eyelids were beginning to droop, but tomorrow I’d check for other cameras near the other spots, and I’d bring the photo around, see if any of the people at the shops had seen this person nosing around.

I sent the photos to Ian. In typical Ian fashion, he responded with a thumbs-up emoji and a good job.

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