Page 52 of Girl, Haunted

Luca picked his way through the trash-strewn living room. At least the kid had furniture, even if it looked like it had been salvaged from a dumpster. A ratty couch sat in front of the biggest TV Luca had ever seen, so at least the kid had his priorities straight. Still, it was impressive that a kid his age was able to rent a place of his own, especially as his file listed no job history.

He moved into the kitchen, if it could be termed such a thing. More like a corner with a microwave and a hot plate. But what really caught his eye was the pile of little baggies on the counter, each filled with a white powder that certainly wasn't sugar. There was at least a couple grand's worth, right there in the open, pretty as you please. No wonder Langley could pay for this place. The idiot was slinging nose candy to fund his haunted house habit.

But something didn't add up. Even the most brain-dead dealer wouldn't leave their stash out like this. Nobody left thatmuch blow lying around unless they knew nobody would dare touch it.

Or he had to leave in a hurry.

After a quick search of the bathroom, only one room remained. Carter’s bedroom. Itwaited at the end of his small hallway. Door ajar, darkness breathing beyond.

It hit Luca then, how alone he was. Ella was across town, chasing ghosts in an asylum. Backup was busy keeping the town from erupting into a full-on pitchfork mob. If things went sideways here, Luca would be on his own.

No time for cold feet, Hawkins.He nudged the door open with his elbow.

Luca instinctively pressed his sleeve to his nose, because while Carter Langley might have been in his twenties, but his bedroom was a teenage wasteland. The bed was an unholy tangle of sheets that probably hadn't been changed since puberty hit. Posters of video game characters and scantily clad anime girls plastered the walls. The floor crunched underfoot with a best guess.

There wasn't much to look at aside from a whirring computer, but there, on the desk, amid the empty energy drink cans and crumpled Kleenex, was a camera. A handheld camcorder, the kind they used to call handy cams back in the day.

Luca snatched it up and fumbled with the controls until the screen blinked to life. He hit the playback button, and the most recently recorded video started to roll.

A tremor ran through Luca's body, starting at his spine and radiating outward.

Jesus,he thought.Is this what I think it is?

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Ella thundered down the stairwell. Her prey – that shadowy wraith – moved with liquid grace; here one heartbeat, gone the next. Her boots pounded the cracked tiles as she hit the ground floor at a dead sprint. The flashlight beam whipped across old walls and caught fleeting glimpses of a retreating silhouette.

‘FBI! Freeze!’

Hollow threats. Ella knew damn well she couldn't risk a shot here. A misplaced bullet could pierce one of this stranger’s internal organs, then she’d be explaining to brass why she killed their number one suspect before they’d coaxed a confession out of him.

The figure darted left. Ella followed suit; she skidded around the corner. Her light caught a brief flash – dark clothes, hood pulled low. Then nothing but inky blackness. She found herself in what must've been the cafeteria in a past life. Rust-eaten tables littered the floor like fallen chess pieces. The air assaulted her nostrils in a potent cocktail of mold and animal waste.

Suddenly, she heard a metallic clatter echo at the far end. Ella's head snapped toward the sound, and she saw a swinging door trembling on its hinges.

Got you.

She bolted across the cafeteria. Her legs pumped as she vaulted a toppled table and her free hand slammed into the door which flew open with a protesting screech. Beyond lay an ancient kitchen. Ella's nose crinkled at the stench of long-dead grease and whatever else festered in the shadows.

Then a flicker of motion caught her eye. The hooded figure darted between rusted countertops. Ella gave chase, but her quarry had other plans. With a swift motion, the suspect shoved a rolling cart laden with ancient pots and pans in her direction.The cart careened toward Ella, and metal clanged against brick as Ella sidestepped it and let it crash into a wall. Rusty kitchenware exploded across the floor, and by the time Ella regained her footing, her target had vanished through another door.

God dammit to hell.

Ella tore after the fleeing shadow again. They burst into a long corridor, where anemic moonlight filtered through grimy windows. The figure was already halfway down the hall, moving like the hounds of hell snapped at its heels.

She had to kick into second gear because this guy had youth and vitality on his side. So she dug deep and put boots to the floor, ate up precious inches, gained on her target.

The gap began to close.

Twenty feet. Fifteen. Ten.

But then the hallway forked. Her quarry veered right into what looked like an old nurse's station. Ella followed, but as she rounded the corner, a flying chair flew directly at her head. She ducked, and the chair sailed over her and splintered against the wall.

Ella barreled into the nurse's station hot on her target's heels. The ancient desk lay on its side like a makeshift barricade, but she vaulted it in a single leap and caught a flash of the shadowy figure disappearing through the far door.

The guy was quick, she’d give him that. But Ella had fury on her side; pure, unleaded rage. It coursed through her veins and propelled her forward like a human battering ram.

She shouldered through the door and found herself in what could only be the asylum's old medical wing. Curtained-off treatment bays lined one wall, and rusty gurneys sat askew like discarded toys. The room was a graveyard of outdated medical equipment – IV stands, ancient monitors, and otherunidentifiable contraptions scattered about. Somewhere in the clutter, an iron lung squatted uselessly.

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