Page 61 of Into the Dark

He flung the salt over his shoulder blindly, and the grip of his hair vanished. A door ahead of him flew open, and the drawer slid out. A body lay on it, so rotted almost nothing was left but a pile of bones coated in decay. The skull turned on its side, jaw falling open, two faint lights shining from deep within the empty eye sockets.

Nigel yelled and dodged, catching his ribs on the edge of the steel drawer. More hands grabbed at him out of the thickening fog, the restless dead pleading with him to stay, to become one of them. Breath rattling in his throat, he scattered the last of the salt crystals clinging to his hand.

It was enough; he was free, the doors just ahead. They swung open when he hit them, and he stumbled to a halt, chest heaving as he fought to suck oxygen into his congested lungs.

His flashlight dimmed, then strengthened, then dimmed again. A footstep sounded in front of him, and he swung the light up.

A figure stood just at the edge of the beam, so solid for a moment he thought someone living had found him.

Dr. Wilkes smiled at him, revealing a mouth filled with rotting teeth. He dressed in an old-fashioned surgeon’s gown, its fabric stained with gore. His eyes burned red, and slick tendrils of rot spread out from them, streaking his face. The once-gray hair of his head was matted with pus.

“That’s quite a nasty cough you have,” he said, and lifted a bone saw crusted with old blood. “I’m afraid we’ll have to operate.”

“Look at this.” Oscar spread the drawing out on the table beside Tina’s workstation for all to see. “This was in my grandmother’s file. I assume she drew it—her initials are on the back.”

Adrienne leaned in, frowning. “Okay?”

“She was a medium. Like me.” He swallowed. “Look at the picture—there’s a nurse in an old-fashioned outfit, and it seems as she’s holding back a surgeon. We know Della Young tried to report Dr. Wilkes for unethical and ineffective operations on the patients. And we know both of them became ghosts.”

“And when we trapped her, all hell broke loose,” Chris finished for him.

Tina looked skeptical. “Don’t forget, she killed the investigator back in 2006.”

“Did she, though?” Oscar glanced from face to face. “She yelled at them to get out, and one of them tripped on the stairs. We’ve been assuming she pushed him, but maybe it really was an accident. She was trying to keep us from investigating, trying to get us to leave, just like she was trying to get them to leave. What if…what if she was trying to protect us?” He pointed to the words. “Look—Mamaw wrote‘Let me help’with three exclamation points. She was frustrated. Maybe she wanted to get rid of Wilkes once and for all, but Nurse Young wouldn’t let her get near him. Trying to protect a patient from him, mistakenly in this case.”

Dr. Lawson tapped one finger against her lips thoughtfully. “The surgeon—Dr. Wilkes—was the dangerous one in life. If he’s also the dangerous one in death…”

“Then we trapped the wrong ghost.” Zeek looked around for confirmation. “And without her to hold him back, everything’s gone sideways.”

Tina still seemed unsure. “It’s a theory, but if you let her go, you could end up with another dangerous ghost to deal with. Is it worth taking the chance?”

“It might be,” Ms. Montague said from the opening to the tent. “But that’s for you to decide.”

She looked frailer and more tired than Oscar had ever seen her before. Most of her weight seemed supported by her cane. Ethan stood a pace behind her, the Devil’s Toy Box in his hands.

“I’ve come to apologize,” Montague went on. “My conduct has been…less than ideal.”

Dr. Lawson snorted.

Montague sighed and said, “I’ve made mistakes. It pains me to admit it—I was raised to believe such admissions are a sign of weakness, and I fear I’ve clung to that idea far past the time it served me, if it ever did. Are you happy now, Ruthie?”

Lawson’s expression softened slightly. “‘Happy’ isn’t a term I’d use. But I accept your apology.”

“You know Nigel’s missing,” Oscar said. It wasn’t a question; with all her hidden cameras, Ms. Montague knew everything that happened in this tent.

“Yes. And your grandmother left behind a clue.” She gestured for Ethan to come forward with the box. “It sounds as though you’ll need this.”

Dr. Lawson might have forgiven her old…flame? partner?…but Oscar hadn’t. “Where is the basement entrance?” he demanded. “Nigel’s life might be at stake, so just tell us!”

Montague’s mouth pursed unhappily. “I truly don’t know, Mr. Fox. And now I have a question for you—do you think the ghost hunter who died here moved on?”

“I haven’t explored that part of the asylum yet, so I don’t know, and also what the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“We got something in a patient room near where he died,” Adrienne offered. “When we used the Dead Ringer. I have no idea if it was him we were in contact with, though. Why?”

“Simply because he might be inclined to help you, as fellow ghost hunters.” Montague turned to Ethan. “Can you retrieve the coat, please?”

Oscar rose to his feet. “We don’t have time for this.”

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